“Sign our petition,” said the BHA… on the Wrong Website, to the wrong people, about the wrong enemy

This was supposed to be the week British racing found its spine. A chance to draw a line in the sand, plant a flag, and shout a defiant “no” to yet another bookmaker tax—a tax that threatens to squeeze punters like overripe avocados just to line the pockets of faceless suits in betting firms who’ve spent the last decade restricting your account if you so much as try to back a second favourite at Hexham.

But instead of Churchillian resolve, what we got from the British Horseracing Authority (BHA) was the digital equivalent of a child drawing a protest sign in crayon and posting it to Santa Claus. They launched a petition—not on the official UK Government and Parliament website where ministers are legally obliged to pretend they care, but on Change.org, the website where democracy goes to sob quietly into its gluten-free muesli.

“We must act!” they cried… while furiously clicking the wrong link

The cause was simple enough: oppose a proposed new levy on betting turnover, which would funnel even more cash out of punters’ wallets. But somewhere between deciding to fight back and actually doing so, the BHA chose to launch its campaign on the internet's most ignored suggestion box.

Change.org. The place where you’ll find such powerhouses of policymaking as “Ban Mondays,” “Make KitKats Longer,” and “Let Dogs Vote.” It’s the Wetherspoons toilet wall of activism. You can post anything there, and it will be read by exactly no one who matters.

Had they launched the petition on the actual Government petitions site, there was at least a chance the issue could’ve reached the hallowed boredom chamber of Westminster. Maybe even triggered a debate, or forced a weary MP to pretend to know what a handicap chase is. But Change.org? That’s not government lobbying. That’s digital busking.

It’s like trying to book a court case through Deliveroo.

After six days: 3,500 signatures and the collective enthusiasm of a dead ferret

Let’s address the stampede in the paddock: after six days, the petition had gathered a grand total of 3,500 votes.

That’s not a campaign. That’s a WhatsApp group. That’s fewer people than turned up to watch Cheltenham’s 3:10 on a foggy Monday with industrial action on the trains. If this was the public’s great rallying cry to save the sport they love, it came with all the energy of someone mumbling into a pillow after a bottle of supermarket rosé.

You can’t spend 15 years helping your industry treat punters like bin juice—restricting bets, rejecting winners, turning recreational gamblers into persona non grata—and then expect those same people to leap to your defence the moment your gravy boat starts to leak. Especially when the boat in question is being piloted by a leadership team with the strategic awareness of a Weetabix.

Enter Brant Dunshea: hostage negotiator or confused bystander?

And in the middle of all this shambolic cyber-activism, in waddles Brant Dunshea, the BHA’s Chief Operating Officer, attempting to play the part of a unifying leader. Unfortunately, he delivers his message with the urgency of a man trying to evacuate a burning building using only a ladle and good intentions.

Dunshea took to the press—not to apologise, mind you, for the catastrophic digital faceplant—but to plead with punters to "get behind racing" and support the petition.

Which is bold, considering the very punters he's now begging for help have spent the last decade being treated like mildly tolerated gatecrashers at racing’s corporate cocktail party. Imagine being whipped, limited, sneered at, and shuffled into “problem gambling” algorithms every time you win £20—and then being told to “back the industry” when it suddenly needs a cuddle.

It’s like the kidnapper asking the hostage to cover petrol for the getaway car.

Less “ecosystem,” more Exxon Valdez with stewards’ armbands

Racing likes to talk about its “ecosystem”—a fragile, beautiful circle of life where trainers, jockeys, owners, punters and bookmakers all co-exist in perfect symbiosis.

Well, sorry to report, but this doesn’t look like an ecosystem. It looks like an oil slick. A rudderless tanker adrift in a sea of denial, trailing PR disasters and flammable miscommunication like the Exxon Valdez in tweed.

The level of desperation here is palpable. The industry's top brass have clearly realised they’re haemorrhaging support, public sympathy, and relevance. But instead of coordinating a proper resistance to the proposed tax—with strategy, unity, and competence—they’ve opted for panic-button activism and a Change.org link that reads like an appeal to ban fireworks in back gardens.

This isn’t leadership. This is throwing alphabetti spaghetti at a wall and hoping a policy emerges.

An industry mugged by its own incompetence

British racing is not dying because of disinterest. It’s being killed from within—by years of incoherent governance, lack of long-term vision, and the casual alienation of its core supporters. The BHA’s latest wheeze isn’t just a PR misstep; it’s a neon warning sign blinking “unfit to lead.”

The bookmakers—those warm, caring corporations with the public image of bailiffs at a funeral—must be laughing. The very people being asked to help stop the tax are the ones who’ve been treated like fraudsters for placing a fiver on a faller. And yet, Brant and co. genuinely thought the cavalry would arrive. On Change.org. After tea.

Well, it hasn’t. And it won’t. Because you can’t summon loyalty from people you’ve spent years pricing out, limiting, and patronising.

Final furlong: what now?

If this was meant to show unity, it's shown fracture. If it was meant to rally support, it's exposed cynicism. And if it was meant to prove racing can fight back, it's demonstrated the opposite.

You want to stop a bookmaker tax? Start by acting like a grown-up industry. Use the right platform. Speak to your customers like humans, not spreadsheets. And maybe, just maybe, stop treating punters like they’re the last people on Earth you'd want to actually win a bet.

Until then, keep bailing water. And pray no one lights a match.