AFICIONADOS of television comedy may well recall the excellent That Mitchell And Webb Look, which featured a recurring skit called “Big Talk”, in which scarily earnest presenter Raymond Terrific attempted to solve the world’s most pressing conundrums, aided by the ‘biggest bunch of eggheads and brainiacs that taxis can be sent to fetch’.

The eggheads would wax philosophical about important questions such as ‘are we alone in the universe’, while Terrific would demand instant answers, with catchphrases like “Let’s get this sorted, once and for all!”

Terrific is at his finest demanding a one-word answer to the question of God’s existence, and when one of the boffins explains that there can’t be a yes or no answer, he screams: “I CAN THINK OF TWO YES OR NO ANSWERS, JUST OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD!”

The bombastic presenter demanding that complex problems be solved definitively in a 10-minute panel discussion is clearly ridiculous, and reminds me of someone I knew when I worked for a major bookmaker.

A colleague liked to cultivate a reputation as a no-nonsense problem solver, largely by delegating those problems and unleashing a tirade when he felt things weren’t progressing as expected. This worked in the field where his inferiors knew their place, but less well when he moved to head office, and his policy of refusing to attend strategic planning meetings, but then bursting in halfway through, shouting “Just sort it out!” made him more a figure of fun than fear.

I wondered whether the ‘Big Talk’ approach might be worth trying to solve racing’s funding problems, so I called a UK press colleague. Attempting my best Raymond Terrific impression, I got stuck in as soon as he answered. “Racing’s in crisis! Owners are pulling out! Prize money is a joke! How do you Fix it? COME ON!”

Time machine

It turns out that the answer to the issue is to invent a time machine and go back to 1960, when the Betting & Gaming Act gave off-course bookmakers their ‘licence to print money’, and passed up the opportunity of a Tote monopoly. It’s a regular lament among those who compare Britain’s paltry returns for owners with those in better funded jurisdictions, and an undoubted truth.

There are problems with the time machine concept, notably the tricky nature of constructing such a device. If anyone has/will have invented one, then they are being devilishly clever about how they’re using it. The other problem, assuming that the machine is eventually built – there’s no rush, for obvious reasons – is that just as you’re typing ‘Westminster, September 1st, 1960’ into the console, there’s bound to be some smart-alec who reckons you should stop off at Nuremberg in 1928 first, and before you know it, you’re off on some virtue-signalling tour of history, cuddling the worst despots of all time to see if that helps, and then you totally forget the important job you had to do in the first place.

So, it’s with regret that I must announce that going back in time might not be the answer to our problems, although do keep working on that in your spare time. Ditto to those other perennial solutions to society’s ills, the return of national service and sending in the SAS.

The more prosaic reality is that you can’t solve problems by redefining them to suit your own agenda, especially if you define the word solve to mean wishful thinking or shifting of blame. There has been plenty of finger pointing in the current climate, with owners feeling the pinch more than ever, and the likes of Trevor Hemmings and Tom Morley cutting back significantly on their ownership interests. Racing can’t really afford to see an exodus of owners, but owners can’t really afford to throw good money after bad, and solutions must be found.

The BHA’s Recovery Plan For British Racing seeks to address the need to retain investment, including from owners, and to shore up the industry in response to the Covid-19 crisis, but its nine-point plan doesn’t involve a time machine or a military coup, and it’s been criticised for a lack of detail.

I’m afraid that in the absence of Clint Eastwood or Andy McNab, the answers to tricky issues will involve broad plans with detail hammered out through consensus in boring meetings. It doesn’t make for an entertaining story, but you’re either interested in showy rhetoric, or you’re invested in the much more mundane pursuit of fixing issues with the tools you have, rather than those you wish you had.