April 7th 2019

Today I won £50 on the Grand National even though I’d spent a good twenty minutes prior bemoaning the very concept of horse racing. Horse racing is, in my opinion, not too far from ceasing to exist. In this modern age of activism and animal rights, the sport cannot continue to go on as it is. Another horse died this year. The horses are mistreated, and injured, and their natural behaviours are re-aligned for profit.

And I still chucked a tenner on it.

I don’t feel good about the fact that the horse I backed was the one that won, because it makes me feel like a hypocrite. I’d been criticising the sport’s very existence not two hours earlier, and there I was at 5:15, cheering on Tiger Roll as he claimed himself back-to-back Nationals, and myself a clean £45 profit.

The sad reality is that unless Jockeys start dying, people won’t pay attention. And you’ll continue to get hypocrites like me contributing to the sad and endless loop.

In the end, I felt so conflicted about my winnings that I donated part of it to an animal charity. I know that betting is a mug’s game. I know that horse racing encourages cruelty to animals. And I felt icky about profiting from that. So I gave some money to Cat’s Protection to make me feel better about myself.

Until tomorrow, I helped save Jiminy Cricket.

Jacn