Saturday, 11 April 2015

Trollop's Day

Forgive me, but I find the sight of acres of bright orange cellulite squeezed into the artificial fabrics that a gaggle of drunken Liverpudlian trollops call 'clothes' one of the most unedifying spectacles of the racing season. It is little wonder that only the vulgar, the plebean, the counter-jumpers and bounders, cads and trollops now attend Aintree and Ascot. Well, they're all very welcome to one another. 

Vulgar, vulgar, vulgar. 

End rant.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Is plebean a plebeian mistake?

Bill Quango MP said...

Haven't been to either for many years.
Ma Quango still goes to Ascot. Never misses.

But last time out I was buttock grabbed by a thin, but smashed young lady. Who then poured her champagne down my front.
It was like a stag night.

Demetrius said...

In 1937 at Aintree HM The Queen when passing in the Royal Car gave me a lovely wave and smile, so I was told. It was all very different then.

Anonymous said...

Hence why its held in Liverpool....

Woodsy42 said...

I used to wonder why there seemed to be so many more gay men around nowadays. I suspect this is one reason. We all need someone worthy of our love and respect and it's getting harder to find women who qualify

Anonymous said...

Are Ay, Dat Gerls My Werld!

Anonymous said...

Radders, old boy, you need to get away from the Fens more often you bog-hopper! (said in friendly jest, of course).

The real fun of the fair is lady's day. At Chester races it's people watching fun - you watch the ladies walk down Watergate Street to the Roodee in all their finery and at 18:00, you watch them totter back up again with lipstick smudged around their faces, knickers round their ankles, and broken muddy stilettoes. Hilarious!

Coney Island

Anonymous said...

I agree wid der fella from Coney Island - except that the Fens is not bogland.

Radders needs to broaden his investigative base. For some classic examples of the depths to which the fair gender will plummet try Church Street, Hartlepool on a Saturday night.

However, I digress, so back to the races. I doubt that the Scouse Tarts can hold a candle to the Yorkshire Belles who have been adorning York Races Ebor Meeting for half a century. The Aintree girls are mere babes in arms by comparison.

Michael said...

The trees on the path down to Ascot station usually start shuddering after the third bottle, there's many a session going on there, and some of them must have missed their trains...

Raedwald said...

*Sigh* Yes perhaps I'm being a bit joyless - put it down to a residual Anglian Puritanism that made us all roundheads when my hedonistic wset-country chums were Cavaliers.

I've no wish to stop the trollops being ploughed or indeed to modify their alcohol consumption - but I *do* wish they'd be less public about it.

Bloke In Italy said...

Well Radders I can see where you're coming from but they're just having harmless fun.