‘Chip on my shoulder? I’ve got a wooden house’: Why Moody can never forget – The Age

He walked into a private marquee at the Inglis yearling sales at their old Newmarket stables, plopped down on a seat next to me, sparked up a cigarette and cracked open a XXXX Gold.
If she loses, Ill be the prick that will be kicked to death, he said, chain-smoking…

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