After numerous requests (well one actually) I’ve finally got around to updating my blog. Hope you are enjoying the site and in particular the horses-to-follow bits. I should mention that “horse of the week’ is a loose term and has properties more akin to taxi minutes (“I booked a cab for 7pm but it’s almost 7.30 and it hasn’t arrived yet” – “it’ll be with you in five minutes sir” – that’s five ‘taxi minutes’, different scale you see). Though even I am disappointing by the 10-day lapse since the last one (the first for several weeks), after which I promised religiously to update it every week. Talking of religion, or not really, I see the church of scientology (LOL at Tom Cruise) has spent £3.6m on a building in Manchester in order to attract a few more members, some Muslim checkout operators employed by supermarkets are refusing to sell booze and a toilet cleaner in Glasgow has refused to clean the remnants of numbers 2s from around the bowl as his religion states that faeces is actually the life-force of alien gods and bleach will prevent their souls transferring to nirvana (he also has to pray to the god of beer and fags every 10 minutes while reading the Daily Record or he jeopardises his chance of being one of the chosen 1000 at ‘the coming of the big flush’). Tooth fairy, unicorns. leprechauns, god – get the picture? It’s not difficult. Thank goodness (I almost said ‘”thank god”) that the leader of the most powerful nation in the world doesn’t prescribe to this mumbo-jumbo. Oh and while we’re at it the ‘American right’ have accused Harry Potter books of promoting homosexuality after J K Rowling revealed that she always believed one of the characters to be gay. Why the surprise? Surely the name Dumbledore was a blatant clue? Actually, you probably need to know his full name – Rogermesenselesswithyourmagicwand Nigel Dumbledore, the third. And don’t get me started on cheeseboards.

5.30am: alarm set for 6.30am but insomnia strikes, so I get up and start my Raceform Update column – finished by 8am then it’s on with the day’s tipping service piece – two each-way selections – Angaric (4.15 Ponty-cakes) and George The Second (4.30 Lingfield).

10am: Having not spent as long as intended at the gym last night I’ve got a guilt complex (I’d make a fine Catholic), so go again. I tend to make up my own entertainment to pass the time, this involves celebrity gym-a-likes. Former Tory leader Michael Howerd, on the rowing machine last night, is not present this morning, nor is Mylene Klass (without the baby bump) or the Chinese Detective. However, we’ve got a new one – “The Bee-Gee” (smashing pair of tight white trousers and big hair).

Start off with 20 minutes on the cross-trainer and then it’s the treadmill. Two options here – do I use the ones in front of the mirror or those in the G.G.G? (Gary Glitter Gallery – overlooks the swimming pool and the school kids are in there). Opt for the latter, don’t fancy seeing my cheeks wobble up and down when I’m in full flow. Hamstring is giving me hassle so stop after ten minutes and switch to the bike – set it for 20 minutes, five more than usual, must be Tour-de-France fever.

With Miss Klass missing, music is provided by my iPod, pedal speed increases during Electric Six’s “Gay Bar”, slows for five minutes while Red Hot Chilli’s belt out “Snow (Hey Oh)” and hots up again during Arctic Monkeys’ “I bet you look good on the dancefloor”. Just manage not to shout “You’re dynamite!” in a false squeaky voice, save that one for the car.

Pre-gym weight of 13-07 (too much beer and cheese last night) has become 13-04. Still better than post-Christmas 13-12 but long way to go before I can get into my bikini for forthcoming holiday. Still, if I lose 3lbs a day for the next month or so I’ll be a size zero. Look out Kate Moss!

Angaric, is nitially weak in the betting, is backed in the end but pays for chasing strong early pace set by Mr Wolf, finishing around sixth. George The Second lives up to his name, finishing as the runner-up after shooting three lengths clear in the final furlong. Did manage to lay an even £200 in running but I still hate bloody Lingfield. You can be four lengths clear off the home turn but still finish fifth. Roll on the new jumps season.

Went to the gym with Dom this evening - he’s been paying £40 a month for his membership but hasn’t been since December (I told him he should cancel his direct debit and give me £20 a month instead – we’d both be better off to the tune of a score, but he wasn’t having it). Needless to say, as a smoker, it was hard work for the lad (well old lad, 37). Ten minutes on the exercise bike was followed by a short row (he had to stop after 500m of the 2000) and he didn’t look well after ten minutes on the cross-dresser (sorry cross-trainer, but they do make you look like a woman!). Stopped off for a pint on the way home – you’ve got to ease back into these things slowly.

Having an all-consuming job-come-hobby (i.e. horseracing) can lead one to lose track of the real world. The Queen will know what I’m talking about – she once substituted the words “National Health” with “National Hunt” when making a speech to parliament. I’ve been guilty of the same thing when reading a newspaper or when watching TV – “Twelve monkeys” will always be a punter asking for £500 on a 12-1 shot and not a science fiction film starring Brad Pitt and Bruce Willis (top quality if you haven’t seen it).

I was reminded of the real world in my weekly phonecall with my parents – talk of cousins I haven’t seen for years, having children I’m never likely to meet…”baby so and so is just adorable”. I’m 37, arguably the black sheep of the family (couldn’t say that in the Big Brother house) and have no intention of having children…but I once said I’d never get married so I guess I can’t be trusted!

The sometimes trivial nature of the world I inhabit does worry me at times, especially when the outside world is coping with suicide bombers and the like. Saturday’s news reports from Glasgow Airport had gripped me on the way back from Newmarket, so I was keen to get a non-racing paper today, cue the Sunday Times. Having caught up on the events in London and Glasgow I was amused to see the picture of a kilt-wearing Cornishman bemoaning the lack of affordable housing for locals in his neck of the woods. Welcome to the real world. If the anti-terror squad had a choice between going after Al Qada or tackling a bunch skirt-wearing cider drinkers whose biggest crime is to “paintball” the Cornish home of Rick Stein, I’m sure they’d choose the latter but I think I know where their priorities lie. I’m due to visit Cornwall in September, luckily the “terrorists” will all be back at school.

After a wonderful week at Royal Ascot, during which drink was taken, winners were backed and, all too often, got away, I took the alternative route from Berkshire to Leicestershire, via Devon, as racehorse trainer Nick Williams was holding his annual open day. Having had too many glasses of wine at last year’s do, which resulted in buying a share in the Risky Viking, I was determined to stay off the booze and keep my chequebook firmly in my pocket (he must have thought I was pleased to see him!).

Had forgotten to take my boots, so stopped at Homebase in Tiverton (where I’d been a house guest of Sir Simon Nott, gentleman of the turf) to buy a rather fetching pair of green wellies. Thought I’d done the right thing, as it was pissing down for most of the journey but when I got to Nick’s yard the sun was shining – looks like I’ve just wasted a tenner.

Main reason for the visit was to see Quasar D’Oudairies with my own eyes, having joined with a few others to purchase him earlier this year. This 3yo bay gelding was sired by Epistolaire, a successful middle-distance runner in France and the dam, Hanebane, has already been responsible for a five-time winner. He was quite small as a 2yo but has developed into a ‘middle-sized’ 3yo (whatever that means). The plan is to run him over hurdles or in a junior bumper in a couple of months time. I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be the next Dom D’Orgeval, who was offered for sale at Nick’s open day for £9,000 a few years ago before being sold to Martin Pipe for a six-figure sum, which has helped to fund Nick’s gallop extension (and his new tennis court).

Walked up the new gallop determined to find some mud in which to soil my conspicuously new-looking wellies, but there wasn’t a lot around (was sweating badly by this stage but didn’t feel quite so unfit when the text message “Medic!” was received from Arm-aloft Alex who was struggling on 100 yard behind). However, on returning to the yard I found a fantastically fresh horse-pat (is there such a word?) to tread in. Wellies broken in, we settled down to watch the horse parade.

I left just after lunch as I hoped to make it to Warwick for the last race – no chance! I thought the M5 was so-called because it was the fifth motorway built in Britain, turns out that’s the average journey time, in hours, between junctions, at least on Sundays. A good friend of mine likens caravan drivers to…well I won’t go there – you’ll be offended by the gutter language, but it’s a valid argument, as there seemed to be an unusually large number heading back to the Midlands (don’t they have hotels in the West Country?). “Home is where you park it” proclaimed a sticker on one motorhome – “looks like it’s the inside lane of the M5 for you tonight you cretin)” I said to no one in particular.

After crawling along for a few hours (thank goodness there are now 173 songs on my ipod) I decided to stop at the services - the sign for a ‘Wimpy Trucker Burger’ caught my eye. When I was a lad, truck drivers ate Yorkie bars but it’s nice to see someone catering for the less-masculine ones. Next sign to catch my eye was “delay after next junction” whereupon I decided to reach in the back of the car for my map, in the hope of finding an alternative route. Unfortunately, said map and now-soiled wellies were occupying the same space, so I now have one hand covered in horse shit. Thank goodness for wet-wipes.  I normally chastise people for throwing litter out of their car windows but this was an emergency. Sincere apologies to the owner of the once-white caravan to which the mostly brown wet-wipe stuck. One day you’ll look back on it and laugh, I know I did.

Re-branding Kangaroo piss as ‘Premium Australian Lager’ doesn’t change the fact that it’s still Kangaroo piss. NTL were renowned for having the worst customer service in the UK prior to being taken over by Virgin but, sadly, nothing seems to have changed….

7.45am – broadband connection goes down. Try the usual reboot/unplugging of cables etc but to no avail. Phone Virgin broadband – 10p per minute for the privilege. First port of call is Kilash who, after giving him the serial number of my cable modem, deduces that I haven’t paid my bill so my services have been suspended. He can tell all that from a barcode? ‘Kilash, me old mucker, if that’s the case how come my phone and TV are still working, they’re all on the same bill?’. He’s having none of it so I’m going to be transferred to ‘customer services’. ‘Hang on, are you sure they’re open, I thought they didn’t start work until 8am’. ‘No, they’re open 24/7’ according to my man. Phone rings for a few minutes then it goes dead. Now I’m really fucking angry. If I want to listen to someone talk bollocks I can go the pub (or visit the Betfair chatroom), I shouldn’t have to pay for it!

8am – get through to call centre representative number 2. She’s a bit more clued up than the previous bloke but all she can suggest is unplugging cables and plugging them back in again. I do this in the sequence advised and wait 20 seconds in between each one. These lulls are filled by inane questions – ‘what’s the weather like?’ (I don’t know I haven’t opened my curtains yet), ‘Are you going to work today?’ (as I explained five minutes ago I work from home, that’s why I need my bloody broadband connection to work), ‘what do you do for a living?’ (nothing at the moment ‘cos my broadband connection doesn’t work, though I’m thinking of re-training as a call centre executioner).

Finally we discover that the green ‘ready’ light isn’t coming on. She’s going to schedule an engineer, wait for it….on Friday 1 June. A week, a fucking week…this is my livelihood (that’s what I thought not said, I managed to remain calm on the phone, though was pummelling the cat). ‘Not acceptable, please either schedule one earlier or send me a replacement modem by courier and I’ll swap it over myself’. Two conversations with supervisors later and they’re still not prepared to send a replacement as they now think it’s an external problem and it’s ‘highly unlikely’ to be a modem problem. We’ve come a long way since Kilash told me that I hadn’t paid my bill. Something of a fortuneteller our Kilash, as I won’t be paying the fucker next month!

10.45am – still not working. Getting a bit paranoid about the bill thing so phone Virgin customer services – they confirm there’s no problem with the account. I explain what has happened and the lady in questions informs me that there’s a fault in my area (there’s wasn’t according to the call centre muppets earlier) and that it’ll be fixed by 12.15pm. Thank you! Why has it taken several phonecalls and three hours to find out?

1.17pm – still no broadband and, while we're at it, has anyone seen the British Gas engineer who was due here between 8am and 1pm to look at the bloody boiler? No? Thought not.

1.25pm – British Gas engineer turns up. Boiler not going to explode – hurrah!

1.30pm – broadband working – hurrah!

2pm – need to go for a walk and stop being so bloody angry! Cheesecake cures all. That’s the song Cheesecake Truck by King Missile – recently downloaded to my iPod after not hearing it since my student days. Still makes me smile…

Cheesecake Truck by King Missile

So then I got this idea about driving a cheesecake truck,
cuz I figured at the end of the day,
I could take some of the leftover cheesecakes home.
And I love cheesecake.

So I went to the cheesecake company
and they asked me if I could drive a truck and I said yes,
and they said 'You're hired!'

So the next day I got in the truck with all the cheesecakes
and I drove about a block and I just had to have a cheesecake
so I pulled over and opened the truck
and I got a cheesecake, and I also took one for later,
and I took one for my friend Farmboy,
and I took one to bring home,
and by that time I had eaten one of the cheesecakes
so I took another one.

Then I figured I might as well stop at my house
to drop off all the cheesecakes,
so I take five cakes to eat on the way,
and I drive another block and a half to my house.

Now it's lunch time so I eat ten cheesecakes,
and a cheesecake for dessert.
I should point out, by the way,
that all of these cheesecakes were very delicious.

Anyway, I decided that the only thing to do
would be to eat all the rest of the cheesecakes
and hide the truck somewhere
and leave town.

And I miss everybody a lot
but I'm not really sorry
because they were very delicious cheesecakes.
 
2.30pm – calmed down now.

7.45pm – arrived at De Montfort Hall Leicester to watch Rik Mayall in the New Statesman stage show. Handed a leaflet as I go in – “Rik Mayall is ill and the part of Alan B’Stard” will be played by Mr Mike Skinner – who? Bugger! Where’s my iPod?

Apologies for not updating this section for a while, this is down to a number of reasons: 1) increased workload for the Racing Post now that the evening meetings have kicked in, and 2) third degree laziness on my part.

As a Spotlight writer for the Racing Post you dream of going through the card (i.e. picking every winner at a meeting) and having your name emblazoned across the front page of next day’s paper – “Spotlight’s magnificent seven – 10,799-1 acca at Wolverhampton” or word’s to that effect (at least I do anyway). I didn’t hold out great hopes for the majority of my Newcastle selections yesterday, though they proved more accurate than the weather forecast, which had promised us a ‘scorcher’ (I reckon the weather forecasters who have to work over the weekend do this on purpose in order to annoy their senior caravan-owning colleagues, who always seems to get preferential treatment when it comes to being allowed time off. Just a theory).

First up at Newcastle was Just James in the 7f claimer. Clear pick ability-wise but a quirky bugger who tends to meet with interference when racing in big fields, especially on turning tracks, as he had done when second at Catterick last time. On this straight track and in a likely split field, he looked set to avoid crowding and so it proved, with him winning at 15-8. Good start but nothing spectacular.

Frank Carter, the Racing Post’s two-year-old specialist (he looks much older) had done the next two races and put up both winners, the first of which, a 4-1 shot, he had forecast at just 6-4, the other a 2-5 favourite. Nice work. When I first started getting interested in horse racing I used to read Frank’s analysis in the now defunct Sporting Life. He wrote as ‘Augur’ (I even remember looking it up in a dictionary) and still find it hard to believe that 20 years later my name appears alongside his in the paper.

The next race was a six-furlong handicap and I’d taken a view about the draw – reasoning that high numbers would be favoured. I wanted to be against those drawn low, including Sea Rover (drawn in stall 4) who I had forecast at 8-1. I laid him at 3.7-1 in the morning and couldn’t believe that punters were prepared to take that sort of price. I was certain he’d drift out to a much bigger price and intended to back him back to part of my stake. Sadly, he didn’t drift and, more worryingly, he shot clear of the far side quartet and looked set to hack up. Fortunately, the cavalry arrived in the shape of my 15-2 selection Multitude, who came flying down the stands’ side to score by a length. I had ummed and aahed for a long time about making him a ‘best bet’ on my tipping service but decided not to, bugger!

Still, four from four for the Newcastle Spotlight team with just two races to go. The next, featured a 5-4 favourite, Mark Of Love, and had the Spotlight ‘NAP’ next to it. The naps are not always chosen by the individual Spotlight writers but by the editors on the day. Sometimes, three or four writers will have covered one meeting and asking them to come up with a consensus ‘nap’ might prove tricky. I had originally gone 5-2 about Mark Of Love before chopping him to 2-1 when I saw how many newspaper tipsters had selected him. I was then overruled by the boss who went 6-4. I couldn’t back him at that price but was obviously cheering him on. Sadly, he ran too freely (his first start on a straight track) and came home in third place. Dreams of going through the card were dashed.

The 5-1 victory of Sudden Impulse in the finale (another I didn’t back) just made Mark Of Love’s defeat all the more unbearable.

I’m writing this whilst watching the weather forecast, apparently there’s a 50% chance of rain. In other words, it might rain; then again, it might not. You couldn’t get away with it in any other job. Would you stand for a football tipster telling you that Liverpool are good things for the Champions League final, unless Milan win that is, or it’s a draw. I might go racing at Southwell today where the weather forecast contains the words ‘cloudy’, ‘some showers’ and ‘brighter later’. It’s always brighter later, usually as day follows night.

Just seen last night’s football results. Bloody Spurs beat Charlton. I’m not a Charlton fan and I normally wouldn’t care whether Spurs win or lose but as a Reading fan and backer of them at 125-1 in the ‘betting without the big four’ market (i.e. Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool and Man Utd), I needed them to finish fifth for a monster payout (or sixth or seventh to collect on the each-way part of the bet). It was all looking good last week – we had Watford at home, for which we were the 4-9 favourites, but managed to lose 0-2. Last night’s result means we’re down to eighth and need to beat in-form Blackburn away next week. Hard to predict that football game. A successful punter I know once told me “never bet on anything with a round ball” – looks like he was right, if not slightly hypocritical, having persuaded me to back Roger Federer to only win one Grand Slam tournament this year (currently a 9-1 shot).

One story that caught my eye in the news this week was the near riot outside a Primark store (discount clothes shop for the uninitiated) in Oxford Street. As news of “everything for £1” (untrue) rumours spread the crowd forced the doors open in an attempt to storm the premises. I’m not saying all involved should be shot but if you found yourself in the queue, desperate to buy a £2 T-Shirt for only £1, you need to have a long hard look at yourself and ask a few pertinent questions, like “am I a waste of skin?”

Day off from racing today apart from preparing my tipping service (two losers sadly) and fielding about a dozen phonecalls from friends wanting tips and contacts offering info (most of it wide of the mark). Went to the Peak District for some fresh air, scenery and exercise – Dove Dale was the destination – very picturesque but made somewhat surreal/uncomfortable by the presence of a naked child by the stepping stones across the river. Beardy father (see the Modern Parents in Viz) had allowed young male child to romp naked by the river, wielding a fishing rod/big stick (at least I think it was a big stick – he might just have been well endowed for his age). I guess 20/30 years ago no one would have thought this strange but in this day and age it seemed a bit odd. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one thinking, “Get that kid some pants!” If only there’d been a Primark store nearby.

Am watching Any Dream Will Do – 50 young hopefuls, desperate to get a part in the next Andrew Lloyd-Webber production, will do anything to get the gig (except shag Denise Van Outen – you have to draw the line somewhere). Watching someone burst into tears as he realises he’ll never be Joseph is most embarrassing. “This doesn’t mean you won’t get another part and get to do the thing you love” says Van Outen (or words to that effect) and she’s right – I was rejected by Tescos for a Saturday job but was taken on by Woolworths just weeks later, and they paid an extra 16p an hour result!

Still toying with ideas for first novel. Young man called Michael, tired of being rejected in cruel manner by TV talent shows, changes his name to Joseph by deed poll, dons a coat of many colours and acquires a big gun, breaks into home of judge who has rejected him, hides behind the curtains in the lounge and sings..

I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain  (aaah aaah)
To see for certain, what I thought I knew
Far Far away, someone was weeping
Because I shot the b*%&ard!

… I know…it needs some work.

Day Two – Wednesday 14 March 2007

Fresh and alive it was down to breakfast early to pick up my complimentary Racing Post (what a hotel!) and order a decent breakfast – sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and toast (Diet? What diet?) as well as planning which off course firms I was going to visit to avail them of their early prices.

Today was to be a golden day on the punting front and, to cut a long story short, I put up every winner from my shortlist including 20-1 shot Massini’s Maguire and 10-1 second Tidal Bay from a shortlist of just three for the opener (the Exacta paid over 250-1). The Placepot paid £2,300 but, rather than celebrate, I rued the fact that I hadn’t done the Jackpot instead – I’d have been the sole winner – there was £218,000 in the pool.

Click here to see the full day’s analysis as sent to my Trend Horses Pro clients on the morning of the race..... >>

I’d spent ages studying the opening race, the Supreme Novices’ Hurdle, but had come to the conclusion that I couldn’t have a bet in the race – rare for me especially at Cheltenham. My method of form studying concentrates on horses with established patterns to their form and as most of these had had just a few runs nothing stood out. Just as well I didn’t play, as I didn’t fancy 40-1 winner Ebaziyan. However, as a bookmaker standing in Tatts it was a blinding start for our firm.

I’d played big in the next race, the Arkle Chase, having had plenty on Don’t Push it antepost at 8-1. He started at just 4-1 but fell two from home when going well. Twist Magic, who won plenty for the ‘book’, fell at the same fence so the victory of 7-2 second favourite My Way De Solzen, who I thought would struggle for pace over the 2m trip, was not a good result.

Worse was to come in the Champion Hurdle (from a punting perspective) as I’d backed Straw Bear each-way at 7-1 with Paddy Power (money back if your horse finished second to the favourite). There was no money back if your horse was pulled up lame, which is what happened to Straw Bear. By now I had had a text message from my speed figures man telling me that the ground was ‘good’ not ‘soft, good to soft in places’ – the official version.

The William Hill Trophy Handicap Chase is one of my favourite races of the meeting and I’d backed four horses each-way – Juveigneur (second), Distant Thunder (third), Mon Mome (fourth) and New Alco (sixth). Needless to say I’d had more on New Alco than the others and to top it all, New Alco’s stablemate Joes Edge, a spring horse who needs good/faster going, got up in the dying strides to chin Juveigneur by a short head at odds of 50-1. A good result for the bookies but I was kicking myself for not backing the winner having lumped on him for the Gold Cup last year and cottoned on to the profits to be made by backing Ferdy Murphy-trained chasers at the Festival.

As a tipster there is massive pressure to do well at the Cheltenham Festival so it was a relief to get my first winner on the board thanks to the 5-2 success of Heads On the Ground in the 3m7f cross-country chase. The price wasn’t great but I’d tipped him to my Trend Horses Pro clients at 4-1 antepost and again at the same price on the morning of the race.

I can be very stupid at times and the last race, the Fred Winter Juvenile Novices’ Handicap Hurdle, was one such occasion. Having written the following in my preview “If you’re having a bet please note that Paddy Power, Bet365 and Boylesports are offering five places.” I then proceeded to bet 50-1 outsider Midnight Traveller each-way with a firm paying only four places (though in my defence they were offering 100-1). You guessed it - he finished fifth.

A good day from the bookmaking and punting perspective (thanks to Heads On the Ground).

One of the best decisions I made all week was to stay in, consume the Mars Bar from the mini bar for dinner, watch Children Of Men on DVD whilst studying the Coral Cup form, watch a bit of newsnight and go to bed by 11.15pm.

Start as I mean to go on - Monday 12 March 2007

Got to my Cheltenham hotel, the excellent Butlers (www.butlers-hotel.co.uk), at around 7pm and decided to resist the temptation to go out for a few beers. Instead opting for the Becks and Carlsberg from the mini-bar, a bargain at £1.50 a throw. After two beers and three hours of study I thought I’d stroll up to the Queens Hotel to see who was around. First up was pro-punter Dave Nevison, pint of Guinness in each hand, who told me that the first day would be a “favourites day” and that Gaspara looked a good thing in the last. He was right about Gaspara but, thankfully, wrong about favourites having a field day. Given that he’d starting boozing at 4.30pm (see his column in this week’s Racing & Football Outlook), he was doing well to stand up let alone talk coherently about tomorrow’s racing. Five hours, several pints, meetings with old friends, new friends and a singsong in the Beehive later I was back in my hotel room. Next year, I’ll just turn up on Tuesday morning.

I’m having a bad day. Desperately trying to get my wife’s PC fixed. She’s a website designer and can’t be without it for long. A minor addition/repair has since turned into a crisis – like ending up in intensive care as a result of an in-growing toenail. The computer shop are getting annoyed with my constant phone calls (“will she live Doctor?”.

There’s a new Sandwich shop in Market Harborough – Loaf - an upmarket one with wraps instead of cobs and not a bacon buttie in sight. Their advertising has obviously gone well because it’s packed. Unfortunately, they haven’t got the staff to cope and ten minutes after paying for my sarnie I ask the pleasant but permanently bemused-looking chap behind the counter for my £2.50 back”, politely suggest that they make the orders in the sequence they receive them (the lady three people behind me in the queue has just got hers), and say I’ll be back when the teething problems are over. I’ll give them another chance, unlike Zizzi, the anti-Christ of Italian restaurants.

I’m on the panel at the Towcester racecourse/GG.com Festival preview night and haven’t slept properly for a few nights because of it. On the plus side this means I’ve had plenty of waking hours to study. Robert Cooper is compere for the evening and fellow panellists are Richard Hoiles (racecourse commentator and Channel4 racing presenter), Sam Turner (Daily Mail journalist and fellow GG.com columnist), Chris Broad (agent for jockeys Timmy Murphy, Daryl Jacob and others) and Gary Wiltshire – ‘larger than life’ racecourse bookmaker.

One pre-gig beer calms the nerves but it’s strictly diet coke and water afterwards. My wife offers her support as does Ian Joule – eccentric pensioner friend of mine (see www.joulesyard.co.uk).

The format is to discuss the Grade 1 races on each day, followed by the shoulder races. Unfortunately, these other races (mostly handicaps) are the ones I specialise in! I won’t bore you with the details but there’s a two-part downloadable podcast of our ramblings on www.GG.com - all in all it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening with plenty of positive feedback forthcoming from the audience members.

My confidence was boosted as a result and I’ve now gone from “I’m never doing another one of these” (6.30pm) to “givvus a job on Channel4” (10.30pm). Let’s hope we’ve found a few winners between us.

Saturday 3 March 2007

Went to a stand-up comedy gig in Market Harborough after Newbury. Worth checking out “Ivan Brackenberry” on youtube.

Cheltenham here we come (updated 16 February 2007)

Only four weeks to the Cheltenham Festival which is both good and bad. Good as I love it and am looking forward to it like a child waiting for Christmas and bad because I have shed loads of work to do beforehand – I need to come up with some suitable material for the Raceform Update Festival special and for the preview night I’m doing at Towcester on Monday 5 March (see www.gg.com ). My initial thoughts are that Kauto Star is one to oppose in the Gold Cup. The current 7-4 favourite tends to make at least one serious jumping error per race and will be especially vulnerable in a big field, as the increased crowding at the fences will add further pressure. 22 ran in last year’s Gold Cup and a field of 13 or more would make him serious lay material. Detroit City is looking bombproof for the Champion Hurdle with only the poor record of five-year-olds in that event stopping me from wading in at the current 3-1 on Betfair. The Champion Chase picture became far clearer after Well Chief’s impressive reappearance win at Newbury last week but I couldn’t back him at the current 7-4. Worst favourite of the week award could well go to Black Jack Ketchum, currently 2-1 for the World Hurdle despite his comprehensive Cheltenham defeat last time out. His connections blamed the very soft going for that reverse but the ground was no worse than when he won at the same venue previously and I just don’t think he’s that good.

Looks can be deceiving (updated 15 February 2007)

It looked good in the on-line catalogue and just what we needed – a filing cabinet that didn’t look like a filing cabinet – made of wood and the ideal size to fit into the recess by the fireplace in the dining room come office. When the fucker (which is how I shall refer to it from now on) arrived it did so flat pack, with 2.6 million metal bits and reams of incomprehensible instructions. The only surprise was that there wasn’t a tree trunk and a saw (“saw into three-quarter inch planks and varnish at will”). Two fucking hours it took my wife and I to erect the fucker, two fucking hours of our lives that we will never get back. Yes it looks good but the fucker is so fucking flimsy that every time you open the top drawer it drops down and takes an Herculean effort to close the thing again. The bastard fucking fucker! If you’re every tempted to purchase furniture from the Cotswold Company then don’t. Oh and did I mention – my wife wasted a day waiting in for the original delivery – which didn’t turn up – no phone call, nothing. Useless waste-of-space-bastards!

I’m not bored or anything but I thought I’d have a quick look at the Sunday papers.

“Reid to give sex offenders lie test” claims the Sunday Times. I wonder what the questions will be and who asks them?

Policeman: “Are you likely to offend again?”
Mr Glitter: “No Sir, not me sir (fingers crossed under the table)”
Policeman: “Well that’s alright, off you go my lad”
Mr Glitter: “Taxi to Vietnam!”

“Muslims urged to shun ‘unholy vaccines’” (Sunday Times again)

“A Muslim doctors’ leader has provoked an outcry by urging British Muslims not to vaccinate their children against diseases such as measles, mumps and rubella because it is “un-Islamic”.”

For F*3Ks sake! The human race seems to be regressing. Pity the poor kid, too young to decide whether he/she wants to follow the same religious path as their parents. How can children be deemed Muslim children or Catholic babies? They may, in time, decide to follow a religion but, as they probably can’t even speak yet, might not quite have grasped the intricacies. I can see next week’s headlines “Conservative children urged to veto Blair’s new curriculum”, “Labour toddlers urged to boycott their parents gas guzzling 4x4s”, “Lib-dem kids 94% more likely to be bullied (and to have creosote creases in their short trousers)”.

“Shadow of Ken falls on Queen” (Sunday Times again – as you can see I only bought one paper)

Apparently Her Madge is pissed off because Red Ken is proposing the building of a new skyscraper overlooking Buck House, her number 1 city crash pad. I’m sure it’s not just the potential loss of view that’s troubling her. My old boss, who shall remain nameless, used to swear by urinating in his own garden. There was absolutely no need for this as he had a large detached house with an upstairs and downstairs W.C. He simply liked the feeling of freedom it gave him – perhaps it was territorial, cat-like, or maybe he just liked to hear the wind whistle betwixt his pubes? I tried it once – it’s over-rated (and not recommended on a Sunday afternoon when your next door neighbour is having a barbie). – curse this American spellcheck – changed barbie to Barbie with a capital B. That Bill Gates has got plenty to answer for!

On the subject of the Royals I see Prince Charles is getting some stick for the size of his ‘carbon footprint’ after buggering off to the States to pick up an environmental award. Half the country now works in call centres and we all have telephones in our houses so wouldn’t the anti-Charles brigade (i.e. most of us) be better off campaigning for all call centre employees to be allowed to work from home, thus preventing shitloads of environmental damage. I’m sure a system could be devised whereby skivers were spotted (webcams?). Why do they need to go to an office – staff training? Brainwashing? “Just pick up the phone, dial a number at random and try to sell somebody something they don’t need”. “Hello Mr Mount, this is Tesco, I notice you’ve just bought some tomatoes, sell-by date 3 February. Have you ever thought what might happen if your fridge broke down? Those tomatoes may have still been acceptable on a ham sandwich on 4 February, only one day past the sell-by, but now you’re likely to be suffering from tomato shortfall. For a small monthly payment we can insure against this eventuality or accidental bruising – simply visit our website at www.RedRoundAndSafe.com…….”. And don’t get me started on AOL technical support. “Hello Mr Mount, isn’t it a lovely day today?”, “How the fuck would you know you’re on the other side of the world?”. Aaaaarrrggggghhhh!

Latest score: 13 stone 5 lb (it was 13-04) but I’ve had a couple of Stellas.

Weighed in! Weighed in! 13-05 today. Not bad, as I was up to 13-12 after Xmas. I’m on the Slimfast smoothies – much nicer than their milkshakes. Have also been to the gym every other day. I want to be 12 stone something before one final push to get down to my wedding weight of about 12-07.

I’ve been dieting on and off since the age of 13 – sad eh? When I left university at the age of 21 I was a whopping 14 stone 12 lbs. It was the height of the recession and jobs were hard to come by, especially for fat bastards who had dropped out after failing their re-sits! My first employment experience consisted of sticking labels on tubes of haemorrhoid cream. Not ideal but skint members can’t be choosers and four quid an hour was four quid an hour. After a month of this in a windowless room with a bunch of fellow misfits (I swear this is where Channel4 got the idea for Big Brother from) the work ran out. Some of my fellow workers chose this moment to tell the warehouse manager what they thought of him. OK, he was a bit of a twit but I kept my gob shut and the same twit offered me a job in the warehouse. Picking and packing medical products for dispatch to hospitals. This was promotion compared to the label-sticking. Also employed on the same temp agency £4 rate were a marine biologist and a qualified solicitor. As I said, jobs were hard to come by. The work was unexciting but we had a laugh at times. This job ended after a few months but the experience helped me get warehouse work with a Japanese Electronics firm where I stayed as a temp for almost two years. Temping is convenient at times but when you’re doing a better job than full-timers, being paid less and not getting holiday or sick pay, it can be a little depressing. I once asked the agency (Berks and Bucks) for paid holiday. Just one week a year, as for every £4 I earned, the agency got almost the same and I had been there over 18 months. The response went along the lines of “if you don’t like it you can always find another job” – charming. My colleagues were a decent bunch in the main but I did earn the nickname Sumo thanks to my bulk and the Japanese connection. This encouraged me to go on a diet and I lost about 40 lbs over the next few months. There are three people who worked for this company that I will never forget. One was a  golf-obsessed individual who could eat for England and never gain weight. We became good friends – he had never got drunk before he met me and I’ll never forget him discovering a taste for Cotes Du Rhones during a Chinese meal one night, before realising that it doesn’t go well if mixed with Whiskey and Lemonade and throwing up all over his shoes. If skiving were an Olympic sport colleague number two would have more gold medals than Steven Redgrave. He took a week off with a bad back to go on a golfing holiday to Portugal and then realised he’d have to have another week off to get rid of his suntan! Fortunately for him, he knew a dodgy doctor who would sign the sicknote. Person three was the most bitter man that I have ever known in my life. Hate’s a strong word but at times I really did detest him. He was a rat, a snake of a man. We used to have our own workbenches where we packed microchips for computers. At the end of the day we had to empty of our rubbish bins, usually full of discarded packing, into the crusher outside. He would distribute his rubbish into other people’s bins when they weren’t looking, usually mine, as I said, a snake of a man. We rarely spoke but one day, when it was just me and him in the warehouse, he told me a story that explained his beef with humanity. He used to do the Football Pools – every week the same numbers. At the end of the English Football season he had the option of transferring to the Australian Pools but he didn’t bother. Next week his numbers came up – best part of one million quid would have been his. I sometimes wonder what the miserable bugger is doing now. Is their a GitsReunited website?

Sunday 21 January 2007

Towcester racetrack, still free to get into (except on Boxing Day and Easter Monday), was the venue for my Sunday punting outing but not before popping into Ladbrokes en-route to have a £1000/£50 each-way on Golden Spectrum in the first at Wolverhampton. He ran third but £200 profit achieved and I wasn’t even at the track yet.

My early enthusiasm was dampened after Madam Blaze, reportedly fancied by connections, was pulled up in the opener at Towcester. My £100 each-way at SP out me back to all-square on the day. Having considered 11-4 winner Glinton the main danger I’m still annoyed at not backing him. This is a case of getting carried away with ‘inside information’ as opposed to formbook study. I shall have to add that one to my New Year’s Resolutions, along with the usual losing weight one…but more of that later.

I’d taken a view that Milton Des Bieffes, favourite for the next race, a two-mile handicap chase, was better suited to left-handed tracks. He had jumped out to his left when scoring at Haydock last time and had pulled up the last time he ran right-handed. Rather than lay the jolly I tried to find the winner, backing Jacarado at 8-1 (SP 11-2), Norseman Cataline at 10-1 (SP 10-1) and Kercabellec at 7-1 (SP 11-2). The trip looked on the short side for Jacarado but Towcester is the stiffest track in the country and I expected the heavy going to compensate. Unfortunately, he got there too late, finishing a length behind Milton Des Bieffes who can be regarded as a fortunate winner because Yvanovitch, backed from 25-1 into 14s, looked all over the favourite before taking a late fall. Setback. A quick glance at the Wolverhampton results reveals that my tipping service selection, El Potro, advised to win at odds of 17-2, has run second at 15-2. Another setback. Why didn’t I back him each-way?

I had a shortlist of five for the 3m1f handicap chase but had a major lean towards Fisherman Jack because of his low weight, good course and distance form, and available price of 15-2. A £1000/£130 each-way with totesport in Tatts was topped up with a £500/£70 with the Martyn of Leicester organisation, my old employers. Fisherman Jack made all the running to score at 6-1. Happy days.

I made a complete hash of the next race, a six-runner novice hurdle that featured three no-hopers at 100-1 or bigger. The other three were priced at 1-4, 9-2 and 14-1. With two places on offer I should have backed both the second and third favourite each-way but just backed the 14-1 shot, Coorbawn Vic, despite not really fancying him. He came third and my £35 each-way remained in the on-course Ladbrokes shop.

The beginners’ chase consisted of just two runners on paper and they fought out the finish with 2-1 shot Quirino getting the better of Esprit Saint by a head. I had already had a decent bet on the winner before bumping into two people who told me that he was strongly fancied by his trainer and owner and that they couldn’t believe the price. I topped up again at 9-4. Next, three fences were ‘dolled off’ in the home straight because of the low sun. Given that Quirino hadn’t jumped a fence before I thought this would aid his cause, so topped up again at 85-40 . I became slightly nervous when I realised how much I’d had on so put in to lay a little even-money in-running, but not as nervous as I was on the rush to the line as Esprit Saint looked set to hold on! The winner jumped far better than the runner-up, despite his lack of chase experience, and I doubt Esprit Saint would have completed the course had he been asked to jump three up the straight on such desperate going.

I had backed Tanzanite Dawn at the morning 11-4 for the concluding event so was a bit distressed to see him drift out to 100-30 before the Ladbrokes reps charged into the ring forcing him into 9-4. I laid back £200 worth of my £360 investment but wished I hadn’t as the favourite won the day under a well-judged Jamie Snowden ride. Backing 14-year-old handicap hurdlers isn’t normally my thing but I had a small each-way interest on Happy Hussar, who stayed on well into sixth, only around eight lengths behind the winner. A winning day and a good advertisement for going racing, as I wouldn’t have had such a big bet on Quirino had I stayed at home.

Tuesday 16 January 2007 - Miserable bastards of the world unite…and take over

Bookmaker Blue square have excelled themselves. After placing a few multiple bets including 9-2 shot Great Explorer (2.10 Wolverhampton) I tried to place £25 each-way on the same horse in a single bet. “Computer says no” – well it actually said my maximum allowed stake was minus £14 (I kid you not) – does that mean I have to lay them the price?

Trying to write my new book. Deadline is end of January but I’ll be struggling to finish on time so I don’t need phone calls like the one I’ve just received from Communications Direct. The fast-talking teenager (probably) on the end of the line asked me if I had upgraded my phone in the last ten months. They are desperate to make as many calls as possible so I always ask them to slow down, repeat themselves and ask questions I already know the answer too. She was clearly frustrated after my “so who are you exactly?”, “why are you phoning me?”, “how did you get this number?” etc. When the robotic cow blurted out the “have you had an upgrade in the last ten months” line again, so I simply asked “what’s it got to do with you?” It was a serious question. She could have said “because if you haven’t I can offer you an upgrade if you transfer your contract to our company”. Instead I received the “well thanks very much…I hope YOU have a nice day!” Marvellous. I expect she’s currently reconsidering her career options.

Given the plethora of call centres in this country isn’t it about time we put them all under one roof? This would reduce costs and prevent call centre jobs being transferred to India and the like. How about converting Milton Keynes into “Call Centre City”? Let’s face it, it’s good for nothing else and the new name is far nicer. It could also double as a young offenders institute. ASBOs (anti-social behaviour orders) could be replaced by a four-week stint in the call centre. The humiliation of cold calling for zero pay would make people think twice about committing offences and, hopefully, see them on the road to a more normal existence. Such punishments could be referred to as CUNTOs – Cold-calling Until Normal Telecommunication Orders.

Saturday 6 January 2007 – One up the Harris!

After moaning that I couldn’t get a bet with Sam Harris in previous blogs I have to give him his due – he laid me two bets at Sandown today and both won - £200 @ 85/40 United and a £500/£80 Papini) – hatchet buried and happy days!

It was pissing down for most of the day and, when the track announced an 11.30am inspection, it looked as though the cry of “taxi to Lingfield!” was going to go up. Fortunately the meeting went ahead but the weather had a detrimental effect on the crowd – or maybe it was the pony (£25) they wanted for entrance to members – a ridiculously high sum.

The odds-on jolly, Pauillac, looked a good thing in the first race and duly hosed up. The each-way thieves were out in force, myself included, and I’d gone for course and distance winner Supsonic. He looked set to give the winner a race two out but the effort took its toll and he faded into fourth – ouch!

On seeing Refinement in the paddock (she’s a tiny thing) I couldn’t have her on my mind under top weight for the mares’ only handicap hurdle so opted for United, the other on my shortlist. She ground out a two-length success but, after my first-race setback, I was only just in front.

The next race, a two-mile handicap chase, looked worthy of a proper interest. Bongo Fury, the forecast 7-4 favourite, had failed to impress over fences and she lacked the size and scope of her rivals. Jacks Craic had done nothing all season and looks a spring horse (i.e. best from March onwards on faster going) and L’Orient Express, beaten in this race last season, needs faster going. With 16-1 shot Pardishar likely to need the run after a nine-month break there were only two runners left, Bohemian Spirit and Charlton Kings. I backed both but had a lean towards the former who had jumped brilliantly at Cheltenham last time, his first chase run at today’s trip. The finished one-two and I’m still not sure why I didn’t do the forecast.

Paddock expert/bookmaker Wendy Perry picked out two for the Tolworth Hurdle after closely observing the runners’ knee actions on their way to post. 5-1 winner Silverburn was on her shortlist and, after going in at 4-1, I had to bet him again when he touched 11-2 (thanks to being available at over 6-1 on Betfair). Perce Rock, runner-up at 2-1, was her other selection. Again, why didn’t I do the bloody forecast?

Orcadian is a complete lunatic and, after he proved reluctant to go to post for the handicap hurdle, I was amazed that punters still wanted to take 4-1 about him. Rather than lay the favourite I picked three against him, including 6-1 winner Papini. Kings Signal (fourth) and Tous Chez (pulled up) were the others. However, after backing the latter each-way and only having half my intended stake on the winner after missing the price, I didn’t fare as well as I should have done.

I’d written up Kerstino Two in my GG.com column earlier this season, as he was unbeaten in three starts on right-handed tracks since graduating from Hunter Chase company so should really have backed him at 16-1 in the concluding handicap chase after two recent defeats left-handed, especially as he was ridden by Jamie Snowden, a young jockey with a fine record at the track. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of reading his trainer’s quote in the Racing Post, expressing concerns about the soft going. Missing a 16-1 winner is bad enough but even worse when two of the three horses you’ve backed finish second and third. An expensive finale but a winning day.

Another Knock Back - Tuesday 2 January 2007

11.30am: No Racing Post Spotlights to write today so I’ve braved the sales to buy a few clothes. Bought a couple of pairs of jeans from Gap – shame I can’t wear them to Sandown on Saturday as they won’t let you into the members enclosure if you’re wearing denim. If I wore a bright yellow pair of corduroy trousers (like that bloke I always bump into at Cheltenham) they’d roll out the red carpet. As someone once wrote in the Racing Post – jeans are the most popular form of trousers in the Western world yet you still can’t get into certain parts of certain racecourse when wearing them – bonkers (or words to that effect).

2.50pm: After a hearty lunch and a couple of pints of Hoegaarden I stop off at Corals to watch a few races. It’s peak time racing wise but I’m the only one watching the horses whereas there are three roulette machines occupied (by a total of six people). Write out a slip for £50 each-way on Mustammer in the 2.55 at Southwell, an 11-2 shot. The places are no good as there’s an odds-on favourite in the race but I’m not expecting to be offered just £20 each-way after the cashier has to phone the bet through for authorisation – “computer says no” – well it was Kevin actually but you get the point. Mustammer finishes out of the frame. No wonder punters are flocking to Betfair.

I had a similarly frustrating experience with Ladbrokes a couple of weeks ago. Tried to back Dom D’Orgeval each-way for the Ladbrokes World Hurdle. After ten minutes on hold they offered me 33-1, he was 40-1 with Stan James but I can’t be on with them, not on my own account anyway. Asked for £150 each-way. Another ten minutes on hold and I’m offered 33-1. For Christ’s sake – it only takes out six grand – they’re hardly going to have to flog a hotel if he wins. Dom D’Orgeval goes over fences at Chepstow this weekend – if he runs well he’s unlikely to run in the World Hurdle. I expect Ladbrokes will be on the phone on Sunday – do you still want the 33s?

‘Sticking on’ is fast becoming an art form. If I fancy three horses in handicaps (not snide each-way races) I can’t even have £10 each-way doubles and a treble over the phone unless I take Starting Price about the last selection. The crazy thing is I just walk to my local bookmakers, the same firm who have knocked me back on the phone, and place the same bet. Still, at least it gets me out of the house. How many other businesses shit themselves when customers enter their premises waving cash around? Answers on a postcard please.

On-course bookmakers are not unknown to knock punters back either, though they usually do so with more panache/humour than the High Street firms (although Sam Harris, a rails bookmaker at Newbury didn’t when I tried to have a £1000/£60 each-way with him at The Hennessy meeting – he laid me nothing, not a dinar – even George Edwards will give you a £100/£6!). I remember my first Glorious Goodwood meeting as a bookmakers’ workman. I was with Martyn Of Leicester in the Silver Ring – we had a man on the rails who was relaying market moves via mobile phone – there was a plunge on one from 25-1 into 8-1 – it was still available at 33-1 and 40-1 in the Silver Ring when the move started so I was despatched to take all the big prices. I hurried towards Gus O’Neill’s joint, pointed to the horse in question and, just as I was about to call “£1000/£30”, Gus looked me in the eye and said “keep walking”. Stylish.