Mug Punter: It’s tinnies of Heineken rather than Moet and Cristal

Friday began with your intrepid and, let’s face it, unfortunate correspondent 100 quid down after three days. (Four runners-up on Thursday. Napoleon would never have had me as a general.) As to how it ended, you’ll see in due course. Here’s a hint, however.

On Tuesday morning I’d been juggling two sublimely antithetical, perfectly balanced fears: that either I’d back so many winners as to piss off the readers and make them hate me or that I’d back so many losers as to reduce the readers to a state of uncontrollable laughter and make them feel sorry for me. Take a wild guess as to which one it turned out to be...

Cause of Causes’ mishap at the last in Thursday‘s 4.40 has left me precisely where I didn‘t want to be on Friday: chasing my losses. I start off by venturing three euro on Abbyssial in the Triumph for two reasons. He’s won his last three races. Also, and rather more importantly, I’ve known his charming lady owner these many years. All goes swimmingly until the, ahem, second hurdle, which Abbyssial steps into and thereby decants Ruby. It is the end of Ruby’s festival. It is the end of my festival dreams.