Horse Racing

Nobody Wanted To Be Cuthbert

Written by Simon Nott | 9/28/26, 2:46 PM

                                                                                                       

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                                                                                                   Nobody Wanted To Be Cuthbert.

Given that it appears to be all the rage with elements of the younger generation to find blame for all their failings I thought I’d have a muse about mine.

There were times in my life when I lamented the fact that I was undoubtably a waster and underachiever during my school days. I really was quite clever, passed my 11+ and all that but ended up leaving school at 16 with no qualifications to speak of.

Of course, it can’t have been my fault that I thought it prudent to be a blatant non trier for the majority of my school life. I’ve worked it out, during the 1970’s there was surely a plot to keep kids from my background in their place, that being the unskilled labouring pool.

A successful Westcountry bookmaker once told me that his Plymouth council estate had been the roughest in the UK. I was dubious about that claim, but my council estate wasn’t even the roughest in Tiverton. It wasn’t rough at all to be fair, it was a great place to grow up. It was an estate filled with working people, factory workers, draymen, builders, bin men etc where ‘Student’ was spat out like a swear word and people went straight to work.

Despite my mum being a primary school teacher who did her best to make sure I made the most of my education, I was having none of it. Back to my conspiracy theory, the dark powers from above were stiving to keep ambition to the minimum. It started with the comics we read. The Beano and Dandy drilled it into us from a very early age, the kids that messed about and got the slipper in the last frame of most stories were the cool kids. You wanted to be Dennis The Menace or a Bash Street Kid didn’t you, certainly not a ‘Swot’ like Cuthbert.

Then there was the TV, Grange Hill the cool kids weren’t the ones working were they, you’d aspire to be Tucker Jenkins and even Gripper, not one of the studious kids who didn’t get a story line.

Then the films. I loved Grease when that came out in 1978, well let’s face it, who hankered after being Eugene or one of the ‘Jocks’, nope we wanted to be destined to be losers in later life T Birds. It was bred into us not to want to do well, wasn’t it? It kept the universities freed up for the posh kids and us in our place. Well, not really it was my fault I turned right when I should have turned left, but the theme of this blog is that it must be someone else to blame.

Salvation was in hand though; it only took a few weeks and months of labouring for brickies or hanging up chickens in a poultry processing plant to realise the error or my ways. Luckily, those that followed the Beano life plan had an out. Does anyone remember the short-lived spin-off from Grange Hill ‘Tucker’s Luck’ I’m sure there was an episode where one of his mates got a job sticking on in betting shops?

Then in those early 80’s we had heroes to look up to on adult TV we slouched on our sofas knackered and skint after a hard day’s graft. Arthur Daley, a little dodgy maybe, Robbie Box and Del Boy were on hand to show us that those of us who had made bad life choices could squeeze through the bars of a dead-end future and make their own way in life.

Luckily, for me at least, the betting ring was my salvation, once I discovered that I could earn a few quid on course, I never worked a day in my life. The Beano did me a favour in the long run albeit more luck than judgement and the unthinkable alternative being the mind-numbing torture of a dead-end job. I hasten to add though, it’s not a career path I recommend to my own kids who I strongly recommend ‘be a Cuthbert’.

Simon Nott

 

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