Not that long ago former Brisbane Racing Club Director Ross Tinniswood had a lot to say about what I was writing, and about me, and wasn’t backward in coming forward about it either.
According to Ross I was an imbecile, a clown, a fantasist, a sook, a wild speculator, a loose goose with the truth, a liar, a loon and generally an all round fool.
Roscoe has the right to shoot his gun and I respect that, even if his bullets are sprayed all over the place and and miss everything including the back of the barn and the dunny door.
But if you want to throw uninvited blows you have to be prepared to cop them back, and to paraphrase the mad old scientist if you’re wrong and you’re a man you should be ethical and either stand up and rebut what fellas are saying about you, or put your hand up and fess up that you are all piss and wind and totally full of sh*t.
I took the mad professor at his word and laid down the challenge by writing an article backed up with documentary evidence in which I alleged – nay, bluntly said – that Roscoe had lied to the members of the old BTC and fed them a hatful of bluster, false statistics and straight out crap in order to induce them by deception to approve the merger of the former Doomben and Eagle Farm clubs.
In my usual inimitably blunt and profane style I didn’t bet each way or pull any punches in the articles, and straight out called the Tin Man a bullsh*t artist, a deceiver, a con man and goddamn bald faced liar, fighting words if you’ve ever seen any.
Then I wrote another article in which I reinforced the assertions I made in the first and added to them by describing Roscoe as a joke. a clown, a trickster and a man who breached his fiduciary duty to the members who had elected him by telling them out and out porkie pies and leading them down the garden path.
If what I asserted about the Tin Man was untrue then it would be the clearest case of defamation you would ever hope to see and the old fella should have sued by arse off, but he hasn’t, and there’s a very good reason for that.
The reason is that what I wrote is not untrue; in fact quite to the contrary I say that it is dead straight, smack back on and as accurate as Dead Eye Dick’s aim.
To avert claims by Roscoe that I am not worth suing I offered him a very easy way to prove me wrong if indeed I am or was, which I wasn’t and ain’t. I invited him to pen a reply, and promised to print it unedited and unabridged, which I reckon is a much more fair and honorable way more men to lay bare the facts and put their cases than by taking the sort of sly shots on Twitter that the Tin Man had been until I called him out.
All I’ve received back though is silence.
It’s the coward’s way out Roscoe. You put it up and out there son and took it all the way to the Rubicon and across to the other side, so shutting up is no longer an option and just makes you look really silly and lacking in spine.
Everyone in racing is reading what I’m writing at the moment Roscoe, you know that as well as I do, and everyone thinks you are a weak-gutted wombat and a bombastic blowhard who’s full of sh*t and has nothing to say or show in your own defence.
It’s not good enough fella. If you throw the first few punches you simply have to be prepared to go the whole 12 rounds, or at least if you don’t want people laughing at you when you go to the track you do anyway.
The offer’s still open Sunshine and the floor is yours.
Tell everyone why I’m wrong and you’re right Mr Tinniswood.
C’mon mate, be a man.
Over to you buster. I look forward to printing whatever it is that you might have to say, and tell your mates with their hands planted deep in the till that the same open invitation applies to them too.