conn.jpg

This is full page advertisement commissioned, produced and published as a full page advertisement in the Courier-Mail by Clip Clop Kevvie Seymour and his handbag carrying Chairman and boy little Davey Fowler, aka The Bantam, last week, just days before the State Election.

It would be accurate to say that the full-page ad without any corresponding planned and strategic election-based campaign around the issue contained in the tract was an absolute waste of time, effort and money, but that would be severely understating the true impact of the advertisement.

The purposeless and ill-thought out paid political advertisement urging electors to vote for the LNP didn’t alter a single vote across the State, not one.

But it will cost Clip Clop and the Bantam their beloved Albion Park.

Beloved in Clip Clop’s case at least; the Bantam is rarely seen at the trots these days even though he is the bloody Chairman of the joint, and prefers to grace the 20 public attendees at the track with his presence only on evenings when the sparkling French wine and seafood smorgasboard is on offer and there is no requirement for him to reach into his vastly diminished by gambling debt repayments bank to pay.

Occasions like last Saturday night when the Bantam was spotted holding court in the centre of a group of gratis guests that he’d taken along to Albion Park to suck down oysters and swill champers like it was going out of fashion.

It is.

Going out of fashion that is.

conna.jpg

Chairmen of ailing race clubs that lose $5 million of public money every year should not be living a lavish lifestyle and hosting swish all-expenses paid by the club seafood and champers soirees put on to impress his interstate mates like South Australian race caller Terry McAuliffe.

It would be far more impressive if as a sign of austere leadership of a financially struggling club the Bantam and his boss Clip Clop Kev shelled out for their own tucker and booze rather than hoisting their mug heads direct into the middle of the Albion Park taxpayer-funded chaff bag.

I guess in many ways the decadent sumptuous seafood smorgasboards and bilked booze ups are simply a last goodbye, a Farewell to Outstretched Palms if you will.

Any hope of Albion Park being refurbished rather than sold is dead after this crazy-brave arrogant miscalculation, and I make this bold statement based on first-hand information from those cloth-cap loving birds nesting at the top of the Queensland political tree,  don’t you worry about.

Alas poor Albion Park, we knew her well.

We once knew the harness tracks at Harold Park and Mooney Valley well too.

By all reports the Bantam has a few problems of his own too, and they’re all of his own making. His epic fail by sucking up to Labor’s Racing Minister Grace Grace a fortnight ago and then rat-f*cking her by licking Little Jonny Krause from the LNP’s arse on the show the very next week, coupled with his highly inaccurate and misleading – some say deliberately deceiving – ‘My Call’ piece published on the Horse Racing Only website in the week of the election have put the Bantam horribly off-side with the Minister and Premier’s office, and that this ill-considered Albion Park advertising attack on the ALP is the last straw as far as David Fowler is concerned.

The Bantam’s a dyed in the wool Tory – he mustn’t ever want to get married – and I suspect is probably chuckling to himself as he reads this column and day dreaming about how he’s going to show it off to all his mates at Tory HQ, but the little chicken would be wise to think again.

First and most obvious, he doesn’t have any mates, only fair-weather free-loading friends, for the reason that you get back in this crazy life that which you give.

Which segues beautifully into the second thing that will wipe the smile off his face in a second, which are the subtleties and nuances of the upcoming Tatts-Tabcorp merger and what it means for our little feathered friends.

I suspect that the Bantam’s life dream to retire to a dog box apartment in the Torrens River in Adelaide may soon be brought forward more than somewhat themselves, for the George Street jungle drums are beating furiously with a message that intense pressure is about to be applied to some of the largest institutional shareholders in Tabcorp urging the company to ensure that the upcoming merger delivers cost-savings, eliminates duplication, and introduces economies and efficiencies of scale by restructuring the race-calling and radio departments of the new company so that there is only one celebrity head and race-caller for the gallops in Brisbane, and guess what?

The caller’s name ain’t Bantam.

Ouch.

Perhaps before he tied his sail to the blue mast Bantam should have had a look to see who the major shareholders of the 2 groups were, for he would have discovered that  Industry Super funds, headed by Australian Super, feature prominently in the list.

Industry Super funds are controlled by the unions that invented them.

Unions also invented the ALP, and control it too.

And our little bantam only last week spat in the Labor Party’s eye.

What does Davey Cedrockerit imagine might happen?

That he’ll receive a promotion?

This ballad by Oscar ‘ The Big O’ Wilde says it so many more ways than an ill-educated Bunger Boy like me could.

Back in the hood we’d simply say “You’ve really f*cked yourselves there you silly little sunny boys, haven’t you ”

Go suck a lemon.

They’re obviously to your taste.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.