Stables get by on skeleton staff

"I tried six Scottish papers and got two replies," Beckett said. "I fared better in Yorkshire with nine, one of which was a young man who's working out well. But I desperately need two more, so now I'm advertising in Zimbabwe and South Africa."

He's not alone. South American immigrants have long done the donkey-work in US racing. In recent weeks, staff from France, the Czech Republic, Poland and Japan have joined UK trainers Barry Hills, Marcus Tregoning, Mark Pitman and Mark Johnston. Mick Channon advertises in the Scandinavian paper Skandinavisk Galopp.

The Department of Education and Employment is currently processing a request from one trainer to employ six ex-professional or apprentice jockeys from Pakistan. The problem is no better in Ireland where Navan handler, Noel Meade, was on the verge of quitting until finding 10 Czech yard workers to ease the workload. Chip away at the reasons behind racing's chronic labour shortage and you open a can of worms. Some blame poor pay, others the hard, physical and anti-social work. But social and demo-graphic change - even evolution - may also play a part. "The pay is fine," argues Bill Adams, national secretary of the Stable Lads' Association since 1986. Now 62, he began working with horses at 16.

Last December, he negotiated a six per cent increase for 2001, with a four per cent rise to follow next year. There are four pay grades, A down to D, for stable staff, with two national minimum wage thresholds worked into the formula.

For an 85-hour fortnight, the consolidated weekly minimum wage of Grade A staff - with seven years in the industry, or five plus NVQ level 3 - has risen from £202.32 to £214.49. New staff aged under 18 start on at least £102.86.

A glass ceiling lies beyond, which Grade A staff can break through to become head lads or travelling head lads. Pay is then negotiable with your guv'nor. Adams stresses most trainers, particularly those in Newmarket and Lambourn, pay "well above" the recommended rates. "We have to, or else they'll find a yard that pays more," said Beckett.

"The yardmen I employ get significantly more than Peter Walwyn paid me just two years ago and I was his assistant trainer!"

"I don't think it's a case of poor pay," agreed Meade. "It's not just racing - in Ireland, there aren't enough workers to go round in any industry. If you're unemployed and living in Ireland now, you're unemployable. But in racing, the problem is exacerbated because this emerging generation just doesn't want to work with horses."

Adams blames a stay-at-home mentality and lack of dedication. "In my day, if you wanted to work with horses, you accepted you'd have to move away from Muswell Hill or Hornsey," he said.

"The physical work is a shock when you start, but that's not changed since my day. I think love for horses is diminishing. Some kids still do, but others treat it as just another job - like stacking supermarket shelves. But you can't shut a horse away on a Friday night and come back on Monday morning."

He also believes racing suffers from the social and demographic problems currently afflicting recruitment to nursing, the police and armed forces. It's a problem exacerbated by the smaller number of people who are physically suited to the job. Racing relies on people light enough to ride horses, yet the average weight is rising.

"Walk past a school now and you see teenagers six feet tall and 12 stone," said Adams. "Young jockeys are also scarcer for the same reason. Kids want to be Frankie Dettori, yet when they're not good enough or too big, they walk. They're not interested in stable work. But it's not a second-class career. Good staff make good horses."

Beckett worries it's a problem of perception and gentrification. "The very language used - 'lads' and 'lasses' - demeans a very valuable and rewarding job," he said. "But the real truth is Britain is becoming a predominately middle class and urban society. People just don't want to shovel muck any more."

Britain may be a nation of animal lovers, but not if it means getting our hands dirty.