Ipswich Cup 2019

It was like the charge of the inappropriate body part sharing.
Underboob tattoo to the left of then
Plunging cleavage to the right of them
Exposed arsecheeks in front of them

With deep, throbbing bass, thundering hoofbeats and copious amounts of alcohol, the Ipswich cup is an annual event that brings the best and brightest together to support all aspects of the sport of kings.

Put your glad rags on and join me, hon’

Firstly, when attending the races you have to make sure you are putting your best foot forward in the fashionista stakes. Whether you dressing to the nines and wearing multiple layers with vibrant colours and materials or whether you are wanting to tart it up a bit and wear three quarters of nothing with some added nudity for extra eyecatching factor, Ipswich races is the place for you to let your imagination run wild.
Many men this year decided that socks were completely irrelevant, harking back to days of yore where ankles were enough to get the blood pumping and whispers started. Quality brown loafers without socks seemed to be the go to for foot habiliment while the clothing ranged from tasteful – quality slacks, nice shirt and a tidy jacket – to plain weird – suits with marijuana leaves, suits with simpsons characters, a bunch of lads wearing mario suits, pants with fur, shirts with psychedelic print.
Art was on show at the Ippy cup this year, with many an underboob or sideboob tatto on display from women of all shapes, sizes and colours. To say dresses were “plunging” would be akin to saying that Merv Hughes “liked a little drink”, but in terms of advertising, its a super confident way to show that you’re a scenic route.

Music was pumping, horse were jumping, boobs were showing while drinks were flowing

Dancing in the daytime is always going to be an interesting activity……to watch. People watching at its finest can be found on the fringes of the DJ “dancefloor” where you, alongside other people watchers and shy movers and shakers, can scope a variety of shape-cutters, grinders, twerkers or just plain dry-humpers going at it.
There was the running man and the running man 2.0, there was flossing, the hype, John Travolta-esque night fever, plenty of shuffling, accidental breakdancing (drunken people falling over) and I even saw one lady dress in a flapper oufit (gloves and all)…….looking like she might have actually been from that very era (whe was waving her hands around like Jodie Foster in Nell – Taaaaaaaaayyyy in da win).

Totes organised

You know that this is going to be a hectic day when you arrive and there are a dozen police officers shooting the breeze near the entrace (surreptitiously trying to check at the aforementioned underboob tattoos and exposed arsecheeks) and Red Frog & St Johns representatives handing out bottles of water……..at an event with a 4 hour package……at an event with a 4 hour, alcoholic drinks package…..at an event with a 5 hour, alcoholic drinks package in Ipswich (almost like handing out electric blankets in the Sahara – nice to have, but meh).
Food began flowing (as much as the drinks), which was awesome and luckily for me, they had party pies (a party, in my opinion, is not a party with those tiny delicious pastry morsels) and sausage rolls, prawn twisters and other deep fried finger awesomeness. My wife was whinging because there wasn’t a great deal of fresh food, but admittedly, I was three-sheets to the wind and cared not for what food was being placed in my mouth (as long as it tasted good and there was plenty of it).

Oh yeah…the races

The infield festival (which were the tickets that we had purchases) were right beside the track, on the inside of the giant oval that was home to this years equine competitiveness. Close enough to see the sweat drip from the jockeys….brows, close enough to feel the hoovebeats (over the bass of Bonka, Brooklyn, Some Blonde & Rojdar – the DJs at the infield festival), close enough to lord it over the plebs on the other side of the track with their “general admittance” tickets…yet still close enough to the many tote and bar options to sate the appetites of the punter and pisshead alike.

Either way, I had a great time. I drunk to the point of giggles and didn’t fall over. I made jokes with strangers about other strangers while placing bets on huge animals that I knew nothing about (I won a quinella and collected $6.20 and called it quits while I was ahead).


Ladies…bring a pair of flip-flops/jandals/thongs in a handbag to put on once you have gotten over the aesthetic appeal of 9-inch heels. Men…dark sunglasses to allow you to see without getting blinded…or slapped.
Ladies & gents – prebook a maxi-taxi for you and your crew. We did and as such, did not have to wait in line with the thousands of other people that were waiting for their Taxi, Uber, Ola, cousin to pick them up

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