Lighten Up: Auld Lehane back in the saddle for Cheltenham
Look out for me at Cheltenham next week, I'll be out in front.
I went to the bank recently to see if I could get a stocking loan for the year ahead.
"Son," the bank manager said, "the only way you will be able to get money out of this place is by wearing a pair of tights over your head."
And not understanding what he meant, for we live in strange times, and these days anything goes, I must have stood looking puzzled for a few moments, before he elaborated further.Â
"By robbing us!" he exclaimed. "Cattle are far too expensive to be giving out loans.
"It's like the Celtic Tiger out there in the marts," says he. "And stay ye away from them big 'Celtic Tiger' bullocks!" he strongly advised.
And while I've no doubt the bank manager was talking sense, it left me with a great dilemma.
You see, cheap or dear, I still needed an income. Without an income, the wheels of the Auld Lehane bandwagon were sure to come off.
And so it was then, that I turned to the steeplechase and hauled out the saddle one last time.
And while wiping down the leather, I made an announcement to the world that I would be available for Cheltenham next week.
Auld Lehane, the jockey, was back in the saddle for 2026. I had little choice. I needed the spondulicks. The cupboard was bare.
And as you might expect, the elite in the horse racing world were soon beating a path to my door, the offers came in fast and furious.
They all knew, you see, that if auld Lehane was onboard, the chances of winning were almost guaranteed.
Regardless of how useless the horse was, if he has three legs instead of four, we would still be first across the line, for I have a gift when it comes to winning steeplechase races.
Slow as I am to boast, I'm like Lester Piggott, really, only probably better. And I know to look at me, you'd never think I was so "gifted".
To the untrained eye, it might seem that Auld Lehane is too old, stupid, and overweight to throw his leg over anything more flighty than a bar stool.
Well, the reality is, I have a track record for success that would have Willie Mullins salivating at the mouth.
Provide me with a horse, give me enough elbow room, and watch me go. That's all I ask.
The only proviso I have is for people not to shout and dance too much after every race victory I achieve, for it can get very tiresome after a full day of unbridled success.
So, yes, I will be taking part in Cheltenham this year once again. My card is full.
I will probably be riding Flying High! in the Ryanair Chase.
And onboard Andrew You Tool in the Queen Mother Champion Stakes, and, "why," you might cry, "don't you ride horses all the time if you are so bloody brilliant?"
Well, simply because the thrill associated with Cheltenham lies in the belief that anyone can be a winner.
That's where the joy for events like this come from.
But alas, if I'm in the race at all, regardless of the competition, I'm sure to romp home first.
For, like a hungry sow up the field who gets a sniff of ration coming from the yard, you will always find me leading the pack once the head is turned.
Look out for me at Cheltenham next week, I'll be out in front.
And please don't bother cheering me on, for my head will be swollen enough already.
