Guide To Picking A Grand National Winner
Picking a winner for the Grand National isn’t rocket science. If it was rocket science, it would be called rocket science. If that much isn’t clear to you, then you need this guide to picking a winner more than we thought.
Put 10 euro on every horse in the race, one of them is bound to win.
ALWAYS back a grey horse. Grey horses are the equestrian equivalent of black athletes in the 100 metres.
We all know getting shit on by a bird is good luck, right? Smear bird shite on the top of your head the night before the Grand National. Wear a shower cap to hold it there over night. Massage scalp in the morning before making your bet, then rinse. NOTE: If you look like a painter’s radio while placing a bet, then you’re almost guaranteed to pick a winner.
Make love to a black cat while in the bookies. This happens all the time, so don’t be shy. Ignore the security guard trying to stop you, it’s probably his first day.
Download The Horse Whisperer on Bit Torrent, honestly, we haven’t seen it ourselves, but there’s got to be something worthwhile in there.
Form proving difficult to read? Just throw a dart at yourself, and hold your bleeding face over the form. If the blood drips onto Capuchin Freeway, then Capuchin Freeway is your horse.
Kidnap Ruby Walsh. Get creative, no one will report his kidnapping until long after you’ve got all the betting information you need. Or you could just ask him nicely. Be sure to say “Ruby Ruby, Ruby RUBY!” when you see him, like the Kaiser Chiefs song. He loves that, so he does.
Ring up that lad you went to school with. You know the one; always mitching, left school at 16 after getting one of the teachers pregnant? The one who doesn’t seem to have ever worked a day in his life, but always has brand new runners? The one who can somehow manage to make his social pay for a full week of playing pool and smoking outside the pub? The one, who, despite being an ugly little c*nt, managed to ride the gorgeous Polish girl who works in the cloakroom of your local nightclub? The one who looks like he hasn’t aged a day in 20 years, while you’ve started to resemble your Dad in the 90s? Ring him up and ask him who’s going to win. He knows. Somehow, that fucker always knows.
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