Cardiff Local Guide A guide to all Things Cardiff
GAMBLING in Britain is as serious a problem as alcoholism,
says one MP. Yeah, and fixed- odds machines in betting shops are like crack
cocaine, says another. And as Cameron “voices concern” over online betting,
hardnut actor Ray Winstone pops up during every big football game urging you to
’ave a go, the implication being he’ll break yer legs if you don’t do it “Naaaaahhh!!”
Yep, Ray croaks in those diamond-geezer tones, anyfink goes,
from the number of yellow cards to ’oo gets sent off first. How much simpler in
the Cardiff of all our yesterdays before betting shops, when you slipped a
tanner or two into the mitt of the bookie’s runner – one on every street corner
– on Derby Day. Apart from the greyhound-racing, “the Dogs”, that was it.
Before that we had cock-fighting in Cardiff with huge
amounts bet and so popular at its peak they let prisoners out of the local nick
for the birdie equivalent of
Ali-Frazier battles.
The celebrated Welsh historian, William Rees, wrote that
Howell Morgan, a Methodist preacher from Pentyrch, was such an expert that the
King of Denmark, no less, consulted him on the more arcane aspects of the
sport.
But back to a time when the most popular form of gambling in
Cardiff was… pitch and toss.
You’d get pavement dice games confined mostly to the Docks and old Tiger Bay but no district
was without its pitch and toss school. In fact, years ago in Grangetown they’d
tell you it was the inspiration for what’s regularly voted the nation’s
favourite poem.
In 1909 Rudyard Kipling, while in Grangetown visiting his
cousin Bert, a pastry cook with Bruton’s the baker (he’d go on to start his own
business) was taken across to Seven Oaks Park (The Tan) to see the town’s
biggest and best pitch and toss school.
Bob Downey, redoubtable “King of Tiger Bay”, cleaned up
mightily then issued his famous challenge: “Right,” he said, piling his
winnings at his feet, “anyone got the bottle to go for it? One toss for the
lot.”
“Magnificent,” said Rudyard to Cousin Bert. “If you can make
one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss… ”
“Yeah,” said Bert. “But wot if you lose?”
“Why,” said Rudyard, “if you lose you simply start again at
your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss.” He paused. His eyes
took on a faraway look, “Bert, I think there’s a poem there somewhere. If I
could find a great opening line. Ah, if…”
Well he did, didn’t he, and years later when they asked
Downey if he liked Kipling he said: “Well, I dunno, I never kippled.” So there
you go, the story of Kipling’s secret visit to Grangetown. Dickens might have
been there too, cocking an eye at the locals – after all, in a Christmas Carol
he labelled some dubious characters as “gents good for anything from pitch and
toss to manslaughter.” There’s culture, innit.
The game is simplicity itself. Just two old pennies and a
stick, the “noddy.” Bloke who pitches his penny nearest the noddy (hence
“pitch”) is first to toss his pennies (hence toss). If they land two heads –
“two ones” – he wins. Two tails, he loses. Head and a tail, “two odds,” do it
again. There’d be side bets, of course, and a re-creation of a pitch and toss
school should be included in our Cardiff Museum with traditional old Cardiff
characters and their traditional Cardiff cries.
“Eadatanner more… eadatanner more…” “Copperup…
copperup.” Plus “Getyer dap offa my joey.” (Translation: “I’ll wager another
sixpence I’ll get two heads. Oh, I say, here comes a man of the law. Please
remove your plimsoll from my threepenny bit”).
Once those cries echoed in every corner of Cardiff – in
Cyncoed, of course, they used half-crowns instead of pennies – but where can
you find a pitch and toss school today? They were everywhere, a “larboard”
looking out for the law and if the law did appear the entire assembly vanished.
Plod was sacrosanct.
Friday nights, pay nights, saw huge schools on waste ground
behind foundries and factories and clerks would stay late to provide the losers
with subs from next week’s wages “as long as you go home.” A famous school on
summer Sunday nights in the shadow of Leckwith Bridge made a fortune for the
owner of a little cafe there. And was there something a little stronger than
coffee on offer in those days before Sunday opening?
All gone now, But a lot more fun than online betting, Ray.
