Friday, November 17, 2006

Turner-ing the corner

Yo Blair! (as I once said to the Prime Minister)

What a week. What a only-the-most-important-race-of-my-life week! After a year of plying my trade in the Ryman Premier League of greyhound racing (shout out to my pal Marvin, the Bergkamp of Borehamwood FC), on Tuesday night I graduated to the Chumpions League of the sport. Bit more later on that, first a bit of housekeeping:

That race I told you about in my last post, I came third. W (it stands for Whatever. It's what all the young dogs are saying down the kennells, whilst they listen to Snoop and Pawtishead on their i-pups). Who gives a Flying Frank? got bigger fish to fry... this race on Tuesday night just gone. 'Twas the Racing Post Festival down at The Stow. It doesn't get much bigger than that I can tell you. Even Sky Sports were there, complete with presenter legend Gary Newbon, or The Borbon as I call him (he really takes the biscuit). £1000 on offer for the winner of my race - as opposed to the usual ton (which those tight-fisted hoodlums at Frank PR never show me anyway). A massive crowd was there to cheer me and the stow was busier than the family planning clinic on Essex high road.

So why on earth did I stuff up big time, come fifth and embarass myself infront of literally dozens of avid SKY TV greyhound fans?

You tell me. Answers on a postcard to

Anyway, as I woke up in a bout of depression on Wednesday morning, I had a note that dropped into my basket. It was from my good friend (and one-time lover) Anthea Turner, who sent the above message to me. Bunsen as I call her (Bunsen Burner - Anthea Turner), has always Turner-ed me on. I met her through her sister Tina and ever since then she has kept in touch. Infact, since she got married she has taken to sending me regular boxes of Cadbury's Snowflakes. Enough already - surely it's someone elses Turn.

It could be that Bunsen's chocolate has been what has been hampering me in recent races. Since Wednesday I have had a pure diet of only Water, Pedigree Chum and Ladies. I am focused for my next race - this Saturday night, 8.15pm at The Stow.

Watch this space, racing fans.

Enough for now,

Shabbat Shalom

Peace. Love. Woof.

Flying Frank

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I'd bury my boner in her sweet gash