Dear Racing NSW,
I feel your pain.
All you were trying to do was share the edge-of-your-seat excitement, the spine-tingling adrenalin rush of that one day in October – the greatest sporting event ever held
in Australia, neigh, the universe: The Everest.
They don’t understand the magnitude of what you are trying to achieve.
Those rabid, inner city, ABC-watching, latte-sipping punters. No, you can’t call them punters; they wouldn’t know the thrill of losing their rent money on what should have been a sure thing at Hawkesbury on a Thursday afternoon. Those unAustralian bastards, pathetically trying to upstage your brilliant Opera House event by waving their lights like 21st century flaming torches.
The Everest. Congratulations on the name, it is so inspiring, so Australia, so Sydney. It evokes… the 14 tons of human waste that has been carried down from base camp and other locations on Mount Everest this year.
Look, I know your promotion for the race that stops the… well, just stops, had a bit of a fall as it turned for home. I’ve saddled up some feisty advertising and PR campaigns over the years
and I can help.
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We dig the heels in and get the whip out with the genius idea of projections.
It worked so well at the Opera House, we have a red hot go at other iconic Aussie billboards, starting with Ayers Rock. Forget that PC “Uluru” bullshit, it’s Ayers Rock. You can’t tell me that massive sandstone monolith wouldn’t make a great projector screen to beam the race live.
When I think of The Everest, I think big (also a nod to the champion thoroughbred that saluted the judge in the ’74 and ’75 Melbourne Cups). We screen the race on the big things conveniently scattered around Australia in key lose-your-shirt-on-the-punt demographics:
The Big Banana, The Big Merino, The Big Lobster, The Big Pineapple, The Big Boxing Crocodile and of course The Big Ned Kelly. They’re all champing at the bit for The Everest.
Speaking of big, our piece of resistance is a projector screen that covers 344,400 square kilometres – The Great Barrier Reef.
Those greenie-pinko protesters will tell you that it’s dying due to climate change,
which is crap, but we need to have it totally white to use as a screen. So I’ve contacted every race club secretary in Australia and a few hours before the race we’re going to have a convoy of 70,000 utes park on the Reef, revving their engines and the exhaust fumes will finish it off, just in time for the gates to spring open. I reckon next year, we actually run the race on the Reef.
In the time-honoured, venerable one-year history of The Everest,
I assure you, this will be the greatest ever. Giddy up.
©Steve Williams 2018
