The Thirty Nine Steps - Last entry in the Rep 2011/12 Film Season Theatre Stakes.(Opens 13th July)

I love theatre but I love horseracing more. So a bit of promised nonsense to rise to the challenge of the Rep's film season. When you have a blog you can post any old rubbish. Roy Hall.

THE DUNSTABLE REP HANDICAP THEATRE STAKES (GRADE ONE)    For theatre productions taking place at the Little Theatre, Dunstable during the 2011/2012 season. Minimum rating 150.  (Ratings based on expectations, play-writer-director-cast, prior to production.)

1.      STILL LIFE  (180) Noel Coward (ACT Theatre Company)

Classy pedigree.  Sire Alan Clarke; Dam Megan Clarke. Late supplementary entry due to fine form shown on the gallops. Faultless jumper which stays well. Has been clocking very good times on the tracks.

                                   

2.      PLAZA SUITE (175) Neil Simon (Dunstable Rep – Sept)   

Prone to make the odd mistake but finishes its races well. American pedigree and a bit fragile. Acts on any going except heavy and runs in snatches.

3.      A CHRISTMAS CAROL (180) Charles Dickens (Dunstable Rep – Nov)            

Trainer Alistair Brown has a great record in these races and his flamboyant style is reflected in his horses. This one jumps impeccably but with a tendency to move off a straight course. Flashy performer at best but prone to throw in the odd wobbly. Very good in a finish.

4.  CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF (170) Tennessee Williams (Dunstable Rep – Jan)                  

     Another American import which has improved under trainer Chris Lavin’s care. Inexperienced main pilot in this class but gallop reports suggest this won’t be a problem. Prone to sweating.

5.  A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC (175) Stephen Sondheim (Luton Light)

     A few setbacks in training but trainer Mathew Orr is determined to get this one ready for its late supplementary entry. Indifferent starter but improves the further he goes. Can cope with all goings and has won on heavy snow in the past.

6.  BLITHE SPIRIT (185) Noel Coward (Dunstable Rep – Mar)           

      Another classy entry with enormous potential to cut it in this grade. Has shown a lot of spirit in training and Joe Butcher reckons it will make all the others go. Subject of heavy gambles as stable staff frantically peddle their bikes to the local Ladbrokes.

7. THE TALENTED MR RIPLEY (175) Patricia Highsmith (Dunstable Rep – May)

      Murderously talented but prone to tail flash when under pressure. Second entry for trainer Alan Clarke and has a lot of class. Not the safest jumper and blinkers applied to sharpen her up. Gets the usual filly allowance and it might make the difference.

8. THE THIRTY NINE STEPS (170) John Buchan (Dunstable Rep – July)

     Yet to have a run but Bekka Prideaux is very keen on this one. Strong and experienced jockey and subject of some shrewd bets in a very open market.

     Betting forecast. 7-2 Blithe Spirit. 4-1 A Christmas Carol. 4-1 Still Life. 5-1 The Talented Mr Ripley. 7-1 A little Night Music. 8-1 Plaza Suite. 10-1 Cat on a Hot Tin Roof 12-1 The Thirty Nine Steps.

    Spotlight view: A tricky race made even more complicated by the supplementary entries of Still Life and A Little Night Music. The original film season six all have their merits even if The Thirty Nine Steps has yet to show its promise on the track. Off time is 7.45pm on Friday 13^th July and whichever wins it should be an absorbing race. Full race analysis will be recorded here when the final saddles are off and deserved rub downs have taken place. And, boy, do I like rub downs. Roy Hall

The Thirty Nine Steps – Adapted by Patrick Barlow from the book by John Buchan.

The Little Theatre, High Street South, Dunstable. 7.45pm

13^th – 21^st July 2012.

Tickets £12 (Members guests £10)

Box Office 07940 105864    dunstablerepboxoffice@gmail.com

A P McCoy, Sweet Prince, and Me

I never was one for name dropping. Oh all right, I once spent a week swimming in the nude with a very famous actor. Ain’t saying who, but perfectly true, as dropping names along with trunks might land me in the law courts. But I am gonna drop one name. Tony McCoy. A P McCoy as he is known in the horseracing game. Superstar, legend, fifteen times NH Champion, and runaway winner of the BBC Sports Personality of the year. Can’t remember when but it must have been after he won the Grand National at his fifteenth attempt (Don’t Push It) as jockeys rarely get the recognition they deserve. Met him last Friday, chatted, had a photo with him, and left thinking what a nice chap he is. Hope he thought the same of me. I mean, let’s face it, I may not be a legend but I know at least three folks who reckon I am only nine pence short of a shilling.

I met the nice and helpful Mr McCoy because he rode a friend’s horse in a race at Towcester last Friday. It wasn’t Cheltenham or Aintree and the race (a NH bumper) won’t register on the great scheme of horseracing things. But A P McCoy, racing legend in case you have forgotten, gave our party the lowdown both before and after the race. So pleasant and informative you would have thought he was riding the favourite in the Cheltenham Gold Cup. The horse, Sweet Prince, finished third and we were all delighted. Will never be an Alberta’s Run (see blog profile) but will give its delightful owner a lot of fun when it enters the world of handicapping hurdling. Being trained by Jonjo O’Neill (another racing legend) there was always the possibility that AP (don’t take me long to get familiar) would one day ride him. But in his second race? In a bumper? At Towcester? That’s a bit like Colin Firth turning up for a cameo at Harpenden Hall or Wayne Rooney having a fling with Luton Town FC. As I told one of our non horseracing party, we were in the presence of an icon. She’s a bit deaf and I think she thought I said iron which may explain why she kept admiring my shirt. Light blue and white, colours of the Greek flag and Sweet Prince. I know how to impress racehorse owners. Greece might go belly up but I reckon our five year old, a real trier based on his first two runs, may make his mark. The McCoy factor meant he went off favourite at Towcester (11/4) but he never threatened to win. We didn’t mind. A hot evening, nobody took their clothes off, and we cheered like mad when he plugged on for third. Bit frisky in the winners enclosure for the first three. Reckon he tried to kick me as they showered him with well deserved water. Many would say that our Sweet Prince has taste.

Epsom this week – Derby and Oaks – and then Royal Ascot. Vow and The Fugue should go well for the fillies and fancy a punt on O’Brien’s Astrology in the Derby. My sort of price (20/1) even though Camelot and/or Bonfire both look the real deal. Won’t see Sweet Prince there. Putting his feet up after Huntingdon and Towcester. Much more important. Mr McCoy, legend, superstar, would agree. Roy Hall

It's still a Grand National

Not sure I should get involved in this one. After all, this is mainly a theatre blog. But the horses often intrude. And no way more than with my ugly mug sharing a treasured moment with one of Jonjo O’Neill’s superstars. You don’t get much closer to racing at the highest level than that. Besides, as I have said many times, there is more drama in horseracing than in half a dozen productions at Stratford. Tragedy and triumph run side by side in a quicksilver fashion that even Olivier and Gielgud at their best would find bewildering.

Last Saturday’s Grand National had it all. Gold Cup winner ditching his jockey during the parade, fun with an elastic tape for the start of the world’s highest profile race, the closest ever finish, only a nose separated the first two, and a female jockey getting into the first three. Too much drama, old boy. Go away and revise the script. I wish we could because the biggest drama was the death of two beloved horses. According to Pete, small owner and unfashionable trainer, is what racing is all about. Bred for fun and winner of lots of handicaps. Super jumper, cruelly brought down when going well. That was bad enough but then we had Synchronised. Remember him? The Gold Cup winner who played up at the start. Ditched the world’s best jockey at Bechers and, five fences later, fell again. Fatally.

Ten million folks watched it on the BBC and umpteen million others saw it all over the world. Forget the result. Two horses died. High profile ones. The race is too dangerous. Stop it. Ban it. We may tune in for the excitement. But we don’t want too much. Fences too difficult, race too long, runners too many. Distil it all and you finish up with a two runner race on the flat over half a mile. That is the illogical conclusion. Horses die in the paddock, horses die when put out to grass, horses die when being trained. They also die at Plumpton and Towcester. It is the downside of racing. Nobody likes it but if you love racing, as I do, you have to accept it. Training and racing horses has its risks. If society is not prepared to take that risk then the sport is dead.

I sincerely mean that last statement because the serious antis won’t stop at the Grand National. Its high media profile, daunting fences, and large field is merely the beginning. Get that knocked off the agenda and a five runner novice chase at  Wetherby won’t be far behind. Cruelly, the death of the Gold Cup winner played into their hands. They couldn’t buy such publicity. For many years, because of my job, I regularly went to the Cheltenham Festival. Sixty thousand people poured through the gates for a day of excitement and pleasure. About fifteen regularly stood outside holding up their condemning placards. With the death of Synchronised those fifteen voices are getting worryingly louder. And they know it.

I don’t do show jumping. It has no appeal to me. Hickstead and Burleigh are foreign countries. A few years ago we regularly heard about fatalities at their events. Mainly riders, more newsworthy, but no doubt horses as well. I didn’t call for it to be banned. I know nothing about their sport. And neither do the once a year punters and viewers who tune in to our most high profile race. So leave us alone. The logic of your argument, as someone better than me said, is that the only horses we will ever get to see is in a zoo.

For anyone interested I backed the winner, Neptune Collanges, and coined a tidy sum. Did not stop me crying at the death of Synchronised and dear old Pete. I would give every penny back for that not to have happened. But I can just about live with the death of a horse, racing is after all the only reason they exist, not sure if I could cope with the death of racing. And that seems to be where we are going.

March in the Cotswolds

When I go to heaven, or wherever they send me, I shall thank those folks in charge for a number of things. I shall thank them for flowers, whisky, close friends, cheese in all its infinite varieties, Sunsets and Sidmouth. And my wife, of course, and my sprawling family in Leicestershire. All so important. But I shall also thank them for four days in March. It means little in the great scheme of things, who really cares if one four legged animal can beat another, but horseracing has always been a glorious irrelevancy. And Prestbury Park, Cheltenham in the Cotswolds, is the most glorious of them all. I love theatre, it is an abiding passion, but I love horseracing more. I once shocked my wife when, asked to choose between the two, I opted for the horses. My logic was that I could combine both loves. Theatre is theatre. Horseracing is both. Drama and tragedy and, occasionally, a swagger to the payout window.

And Cheltenham in March is the top of this particular tree by miles. It is Christmas and Easter, National Theatre and Oscars, Olympics and Cup finals. All rolled into one. Twenty seven races over four days and all of the cream of racing are there. Big owners and trainers dream of riches, the small fry just shake their heads in disbelief at merely having a horse considered talented enough to run on that (cliché) hallowed turf. To have a small stable nag good enough to grace Cheltenham in March is a bit like having Giggleswick Town in the last sixteen of the FA Cup. You probably ain’t going to win but, by God, it will be fun. And that tantalising fun arrived, for me, today. My annual posh and expensive book which analyses the best of those twenty seven races in depth. If the clever minds which dissect the respective merits of Gold Cup and Champion Hurdle contenders were in banks or the treasury I reckon that this afflicted country would be in a better shape. Well, maybe no. But it would be a lot more fun.

I used to go every year. Mainly because of my job but, in retirement, for the unalloyed pleasure. These days I prefer to spend the morning pouring over the form and chatting to my brother. Decisions made I trot off to the bookies and then curl up with Channel Four. I get everything. Stimulation, social interaction, healthy walks, and financial calculation. And pure theatre. I can’t understand why HMG don’t make it compulsory. It ticks all the oldie boxes in our fight against senile dementia. Must be the numerous fags and alcohol, not too much of the latter, which links political with incorrect. Can’t have pensioners enjoying themselves. They should be worrying about their rubbish bins and sundry wars.

I have always been of the view that life is so much more bearable if you can switch off and bury yourself in what might win the 3.30 at Kempton Park. Cheltenham, in March, is that prosaic activity writ large. It gets so much publicity it is almost respectable. The big boys look nailed on this year given the lack of new kids on the block. Hurricane Fly in the Champion Hurdle, Sizing Europe in the Queen Mother, Big Bucks in the World Hurdle, and Long Run in the Gold Cup. The accumulator is about 20/1 if you fancy a punt. Oscar Whisky might give BB a race in the World Hurdle, Big Zeb is a place for the QM, and Kauto Star, twice a winner, will evoke many tears if he gets the biggest one on Friday. But, bar falls, little else will match them.

Being greedy I have backed Wierd Al at 20/1 for the Gold Cup on Friday and not ready to dismiss Minsk in the Triumph on the same day. Might be a backable price. But win or lose, and the numerous handicaps wait my studying, I shall love it. I pay my ticket and get four days of fantastic theatre. And unlike visits to Stratford or the Barbican I sometimes get my money back. That never happens in the West End, even with the biggest turkeys. Horses are not actors. They occasionally pay the gas bill. The long march starts here.

Cheltenham National Hunt Festival - Tues 13th Mar to Fri 16th Mar (Channel Four)