A Night At The Races by Jonnie Burke

This isn’t the account of the evening session at some swimming competition or other, or the 90s version of two Marx brothers movies combined, but the story of the first Nomads trip to watch greyhound racing at Shawfield. Yes you are reading the Stickleback and the subject is skinny dogs. (No smart comments required from any of you, boys.)

I’m not sure if we ever decided there was a reason to have a night out but on the Monday beforehand John’s PhD was confirmed as "in the bag". Best place for it, I hear you say. Dr Bradley was in charge of organising the night’s entertainment and, determined to get some use out of his flat cap, he suggested we go to the dogs. So after getting all the usual predictable responses off our chests it was destination Shawfield.

The Nomads Gamblers Unanimous were John, Iain, Norman, Scot, Gillian and myself. We also had Dougie Forrest from the Uni team with us, on account of his having a flat cap (is this as sad as it sounds or what?), and his flatmate Duncan. After a swift half at Tennents we took the "Maggie hangover" bus (the 44) to Battlefield, where we further calmed pre race nerves at the Mission, which is Scotland’s biggest empty pub.

On arriving trackside, Scot "Spiv" McKelvie was first up with a bet. Or rather two. Scot’s dad was there with us in (tipster) spirit and we should certainly have paid attention to his selection in the first race where he returned a tidy little profit. Over the course of the evening there were other notable successes for Scot (though more on behalf of his dad), Dougie and John. Small sums - no jacking in the job the following Monday - but satisfying all the same.

What about those of us who lost lost lost? Well I can honestly say that when you’ve risked a fiver on the ability of a collection of skin and bone (with ears attached) to negotiate corners that David Coulthard would balk at and chasing a ball of fluff travelling at speed through the gloom, it fair gets the adrenalin flowing like no swimming final I’ve ever been in. Okay not quite - but it was a fiver! And even having covered just about every conceivable outcome - outright winner, double reversed and trio - I still lost. Be warned. Do not trust me with your lottery numbers.

So what did the Nomads pundits think of the evening?

"Oh, forgot to say that I took Tartan Ally to win only to be talked out of it by Norrie as I neared the head of the queue at the Tote. Needless to say the second dug in my forecast came in fourth ! Damn you Williamson." - Iain ‘Like the Murphys’ Teaz.

"I made 6 bets of various description and won £10.32 on a 3 way bet. I also had two pies, two mars bars, at least 5/6 pints, some pakora and several slices of pizza." - Dougie ‘Gazza’ Forrest.

"My one win (a grand total of 2.19 for a 1 pound stake) came thanks to the grace and speed of one Tartan Ally, bless his paws. However, I did get overexcited at one point when I thought my dog had won. Unfortunately, it hadn't." - Gillian ‘I must get out more’ Dorricott.

"Race 12 Win £1 5-Talkofthenorth Result - Win (yeeHaa) £6.82. Bets £7.50 Total Spent £11. Down £4.28. Plus one beer somewhere along the line." - John ‘Statto’ Bradley.

"It wasn't my fault that I mistook the guy in the bunnet for John, all I saw out the corner of my eye was a sad, shambling, shuffling, hunched figure in a flat cap. Easy mistake to make." - Iain ‘&*$@*#%’ Teaz.

Next trip: Cheltenham Festival - anyone?