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The phrase Van De Velde comes from the language clog wearing lovers of orange, haters of hills, devotees of nude meditation, drug fiends, ancestors to Apartheid, crap soccer players, weirdos and all round freaks, and in their juiced-up cycling-obsessed lingo means ‘from the fields’.

Tiny Tim used to tiptoe through the old tulip fields didn’t he? So I reckon Tulip’s a cracker of a tin label for the tinnie man who took a cheap twitter shot at yours truly last week, the one time race club CEO turned Tornado trackwork foghorn Mr Ryan ‘All the Time’ Van De Velde, don’t you punters?

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Never fear sportsfans, he won’t be upset by it. Nah, Tulip will have already forgotten that we’ve nicknamed him after a Dutchie flower three seconds after we’ve ‘fessed, because poor old Tulip has a bloody bad memory, a real bloody bad one.

Why just last week he was abusing the sh*t out of me and calling me a dill because he thought I was writing about him in a piece I published in which only the horses had names, and in the process of revealing to the world that he – like Whimpey Dave and Slippery Sam and my psycho ex-mate stalker- is partial to a bong or three of the schizophrenia and psychosis inducing illegal narcotic cannabis sative, poor forgetful Tulip forgot to mention the little matter of the Monkey.

For those who don’t know a monkey’s 500 bucks, and that’s how much Tulip got fined by stewards for his rather rude repeated phone calls to an Acting Human Operations Supervisor (AHOS) of Racing Analytical Services Limited (RASL) in the matter that’s become a social media sensation on the Southern Darling Downs in the areas where they can get wireless coverage under the hashtag #TulipRASLsAHOS.

You’re never too old for hashtags, but just in case you are the long and short of it is that Tulip rang the RASLers and got hold of AHOS. He gave her a few with it too, abusing the living shit out of her because she hadn’t finished proving he was a pothead by reporting the silly juice found in his saliva sample and the TCH flooding around in his vial of blood.

Tulip could have just asked nicely couldn’t he sportsfans?

“G’day love is Ryan Van De Velde here. I’m the fella who missed the bus and got busted at the Toowoomba course a few weeks ago after I had to agree to a random test. Look, people are talking around the place and what they’re talking is bunkum because they’re saying I’m on Ice and I’m not, for I’m just a simple stoner who burns baccy with his weed in a steel pipe, not chunks of meth in glass. I just want to prove to the world that my only drug procurement, purchase, possession and use crimes involve pot, and that I don’t break the law by using ice, and I need the positive swab back to prove it. Do you think you could help me out by pulling a few levers and getting it shot through early? I’d love you forever”

That would have been nice, and Tulip (or Tornado, depending on who’s paying) would have been 500 dollars richer.

But no, Tulip had to run off at the mouth and say something like this below didn’t he?

“Look I’ve been waiting 2 f*cking weeks and every pricks saying I’m a f*cking junkie and I’m not I’M Not I’M NOT! Do you f*cking understand you useless bloody cow? I want my f*cking positive showing I’m just a serious pothead and I want it right f*cking now!”

It wasn’t very clever I wouldn’t have thought, and it was certainly most offensive and utterly uncouth, particularly given that it was spoken to a civil servant just going along at the pace she’s required to and doing her bloody job, which isn’t to jump up and salute every time some jumped up hop head demands that she do.

I would have fined him Twelve Monkeys myself, just for thinking he could make one’s uncle out of us sportsfans.

There’s only one fella with fleas in this conversation Tulip, and he’s the fella with the bad head reading who’s holding the bong.

It’s bad for you that shit brother. Burns up the brain cells, makes you forget stuff.

Forget stuff.

Forget stuff.