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| "You want to join? ... Iit’s
just good clean fun, innit?" 'Snuffy' grins.
"And you just can’t tell," he adds
knowingly. "You might actually win some money"
... |
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| Greyhound
racing is fun, exciting and a great night out and has
been going for 74 years. The sport is traditionally
rooted in London, and the whole eel-pie and mash culture
is automatically associated with it; chirpy cheery cheeky
cockney chappies placing a bet on their fancied canine,
and waving their racecard around a bit before going home
to the wife where their dinner would be waiting for them
on the dining room table ... If indeed it ever was like
this, it certainly isn’t now ... |
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... The crowd
attending the meet Clarissa went to at
Walthamstow is of mixed age, with women making up
at least a third of them, and placing their bets
with just as much vigour as the men ... On the
way in Clarissa spotted a group of women dolled
up to the nines, all ready for a night at the
dogs, complete with a copy of 'Sporting Life'
tucked under their arms ... And 'Snuffy' is happy
to introduce his friends to Clarissa, and her to
the easy way to place a bet, and to the correct
terminology...
"Nowadays, one can bet even through
Internet", says Clarissa. |
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| Today
Walthamstow has the largest attendance and gambling
turnover in the UK with the on-course market turnover
being approximately £50m a year and the off-course
turning being approximately £300m a year ... |
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"What was your
biggest win, Snuffy" "Fourteen pounds!"
"Did you know, the bookmakers make around one and a
half billion pounds a year on greyhound racing." ... |
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...
and then, it happens...
Clarissa, in need of a powder-room, ends up in a
restricted area of the building's basement, where
she finds an abandoned wheel-chair — and a
scarlet uniform ... |
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