One thing that does not change the world over is the real mug punter. I got to witness this in all its glory once again on the trip to Pimlico.

A short segue - DJ and I have always commented, while on the punt or at a punting venue, on the few sadcharacters that seem to spend every breathing minute filling in tickets and running to the betting window to get on the next at somewhere. Unfortunately at The Moreland, it was always the same few tragics - you just new they weren’t leaving the pub at night to head back to the happy home, wife and kids greeting them with a smile and a “How was the pubtab today, dear?”

Anyway, the same characters exist at the track in the States. Only here, there genuinely can’t be time to even reference the form guide prior to getting the bet on. A book I read said that every day in the US there were about 200 thoroughbred races run. With time zones, this was covered off in about 7 hours.

I sat for a good 45 minutes on my day at Pimlico watching this one fella. I counted him run to the betting window 16 times in that 45 minute stretch, during which he collected twice (a lucky 45 minutes, no doubt), said MotherF$%^r about 25 times, chided his dutiful girlfriend who trailed his every move, while using every other available minute to tell everyone in earshot about how he’d meant to bet the 7 in Philly but the dumb broad in the window put him on the 7 at Pimlico. Of course, the 7 at Philly won while the 7 at Pimlico is still runnin’.

A story that’ll never change