Low life
On the move
Jeffrey Bernard
I'm not exactly sick of the flat that I live in now but I am getting just a little bored with living in a market street, something that most people envy me very much. How fascinating it might be to live in a Chinese market where, apart from excellent vegeta- bles, I can imagine being extremely tempt- ed to spend a little bit too much money on things like fresh crabs and lobsters.
I am still slightly amazed when I see Chi- namen betting away in our betting shops. Considering that so many of them can't read English, it is quite amazing to see them shovelling it on as though there is no tomorrow. A couple of Chinese restaurant owners I know have told me that they encourage their employees to gamble heav- ily enough to necessitate them asking the boss for weeks of wages in advance. This way, they've more or less got them for life.
A hell of a lot of them probably picked Benny the Dip to win the Derby. Apart from it being a rather odd name which hardly any of them will understand the meaning of, how on earth could they tell just how good or bad the trainer, John Gosden, could possibly be? I have been studying it for nigh on 40 years and a lot of it is still absolute Greek to me, but I sup- pose a daily study of the newspapers would help you to recognise various well-known names after a while. But it would be no good doing what a lot of punters do which is backing a horse because it has the figure 2 in front of it. All right, so it was second last time out, but what the hell was it sec- ond to, under what conditions, over what distance, on what going, etc., etc? I've seen very little in the way of reactions to results since the Chinese are so wretchedly inscrutable. Although there was a time, not that long ago, when they would break their golden rule and actually smile if a race was won by Lester Piggott. What with his retirement, I suppose they must back quite blindly anything ridden by Frankie Dettori.
But if I do move to Chinatown, I shall be interested to see how I am treated, sitting as I do in a wheelchair with one leg. I am told that most Chinese are extremely superstitious about people who have acci- dents and they believe that they are caused by great evil in the victim or one hell of a lot of moral shortcomings. As a result they apparently quite openly and disgustingly spit at you if you're not in one piece. So far I am actually surprised that I have never been refused a place at a table in a Chinese restaurant.
Anyway, living in the middle of it, even take-aways would still be hot by the time you got home. But anyone with a tendency to tell people what they think of them should only do so in Chinatown armed with a Magnum Special or white flag of surren- der, although I'm not even sure whether or not they take prisoners. I heard the other day of a man being hit by a waiter in a Chi- nese restaurant in Wardour Street. Appar- ently, all he had done was ask for an extra portion of prawns. It sounds, even by their standards, to be an extremely tall story. But I shall have to be careful. The taller the story, the more I am reminded of the fact that I am terrified of heights.
Previous page
