The trick is to give Tim Laurence a slap on the back and the Princess Royal a smacker on her right cheek. So I slipped into the Royal Box for a sharpener.

Rang Henrietta Knight to see if she wanted a pint. Slapped the blinkers on when I got out of my scratcher this morning and put on my best purple corduroy suit in time to shoot the breeze with a few mates. My reckless host gave me £50 at XX/1 that one day he’ll emulate his dad and be champion jockey although he could do with a spray tan. If Carlsberg did a gambling den, this would be it.Īnd what a Champ Jonjo O’Neill is going to be. I have found my spiritual home as far as any Thursday of the Cheltenham Festival is concerned. Who could possibly want to miss a chance to listen to Michael O’Leary, the CEO of Ryanair, continuing his narcissist winge about Tiger Roll’s weight in the Grand National.īut as my car drove past Naunton Downs it hung violently to the left into the golf course.Īnd knock me over with a Bloody Mary, Fitzdares has taken over the clubhouse and Ben Pauling is galloping his horses up the fairways. I was going to make it back to the races today. Only thing to do is head into Oxford and back her in a double with Shishkin in the Champion Chase.Ĭan’t believe what Mildred told the whisperer. At least I’ll have time to get to my daughter’s netball match that throws off at 2.30pm. Have a horse whisperer coming to talk to our dog in the morning. Ran into legendary racing scribe Alastair Down in the King’s Head in Bledington on the way home. We should Appreciate such an extra-ordinary trainer. Any fears of a repeat of last year's drubbing are but a distant bleat.īut then normality returns and Willie wins the Champion Hurdle with a horse that hasn’t run for a year. Sighs of relief all round after the second race. Alan’s had a few spa days recently, so he’s as thirsty as a wild buffalo in a drought.Īnd given that they’ve been on the track since 5.30am broadcasting for talkSPORT, their stampede happens before most of you have downed your raw eggs and Worcestershire sauce for breakfast. You just can’t beat the roar of the crowd before the first race as Alan Brazil and Ray Parlour go in for their first pint in the Guinness Village. I shall, however, be ignoring one of them who idiotically thought he could beat the Irish in one of the handicap hurdles. And they had some cracking good info, most of which I think I can remember. You couldn’t drink a pint of the local driving beer quicker than it takes the eight top-flight local trainers to get home. But after waiting for two years, I think its fair to say I left a bit of rubber on the road at the Wild Rabbit’s pre- Cheltenham gathering in Kingham. I know you shouldn’t over-rev the engine when you’re waiting for the traffic lights to turn green.

The whisperer horse racing tips