If there’s a sport almost perfectly designed to keep an Australian away, it’s Polo. They imagine silver platters laden with caviar and truffles; endless crystal flutes filled with champagne, the braying laughter of the privileged few. And they’re absolutely right. Getting them to go meant repositioning Polo the Australian way. We didn’t fight what it was, we accepted it. Then we took the piss. So thanks to a brave client, a great strapline from Phil Leece and the Aussie crowds who turned up to watch something other than merciless bloodletting.
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