General / Jack Houghton / 17 January 2009 / 3 Comments

With an entire Betfair Forum thread dedicated to him, our man has finally hit the big time. But he isn't letting fame go to his head and still finds time to tell us about a unique opportunity to get on the racing journalism ladder...

There's something Faustian about publishing your work. On the one hand, it satisfies what George Orwell described as the "sheer egoism" uppermost in any writer's psyche. On the other, you may as well strip yourself bare, put a wine bottle on your head, and run through Trafalgar Square shouting: "I'm a dolphin. I'm a dolphin."

Because once you allow your work to be seen by a wider audience, there's going to be plenty of finger-pointing, laughing and ridicule coming your way. It was with a confusing mixture of conceit and trepidation then that I navigated to the Betfair Forum to read a posting by 6" on the slack (presumably a man unafraid of naked ridicule) called Jack Houghton on the BBC cutbacks.

This was a big moment: a thread on the Forum. All about me! Fame at last. But it was never going to be good, was it? Over the years, I've winced at the gladiatorial ferocity with which Forumites have attacked various Christian souls. I've come to think of the Forum as the racing and betting equivalent of Heat magazine. If you feature; the focus will undoubtedly be a telephoto-captured picture of some grotesquely misshapen part of your anatomy, with a big red arrow pointing out the imperfection.

And the fear was well founded. An early comment describes my writing as "a large amount of smarmy ********." I assume the asterisks replace "bollocks"; as no amount of time on dictionary.com can find a grammatically correct eight-letter word that fits any better.

Ribero1 has a more pressing concern: "Excuse my ignorance but who the feck is Jack Houghton?" It's a fair question Ribero, so your ignorance is excused. I decide to write "Who the feck is Jack Houghton?" on a Post-It and stick it on the bathroom mirror: it will serve as an excellent motivational tool.

On the thread went, and it was like watching my own funeral procession pass by. And not one of those jolly, New Orleans' affairs; with smiling fat black men dancing and trumpet-playing. No, this was more puritan: a slow and turgid death march.

Oh well, at least it means someone actually reads this stuff.

*******

On the subject of writing, I feel it necessary to plug the 17th offering of the Martin Wills award for creative writing. The competition aims to find budding young horseracing writers with originality, enthusiasm and a way with language. It's open to anyone under 26, resident in the UK or Republic of Ireland.

For more information, check out: www.willswritingawards.co.uk

A word of warning though: the website is not entirely reliable. It mentions a number of previous prize winners; including Chris McGrath, Donn McClean, Theodora Fairley, Harry Macadam, Ben Sheppard and Amy Bennett. For some reason though, it omits a mention for an early winner, Andrew Balding, and, quite inexplicably, ignores its most famous alumnus: the guy Amy Bennett finished second to.

Don't they know I've appeared on the Betfair Forum? Heathens.

Nonetheless, it's a great competition, with great prizes on offer. There's the prize-money of course. But more than that, the competition offers winners the chance to get a foot on the ladder of racing journalism - with a likely gig at the Racing Post. And you try getting a job in Canary Wharf at the moment...

In my day, there was also an all-expenses paid trip to Newmarket. Tours of the Cecil and Fanshawe yard preceded a slap-up lunch at the racecourse before the Craven meeting. I remember insulting a fellow prize-winner. Enquiring of her hobbies, I asked in response to her answer, "painting horses", with the question: "Don't they mind?"

My behaviour didn't improve much as the day went on. Perhaps that's why they forget to mention me on their website. Either that, or they can't work out who the feck Jack Houghton is either.