Words cannot describe how much I loathe Royal Ascot. Five of the best days racing of the year, utterly ruined by the people who are actually at Ascot to...I was going to write 'to watch' but that's the point. They're not there to watch but just to be there. Most of them couldn't tell the front end of a horse from a handbag.

I can't tell you how much more I started to get out of Ascot once I stopped going. There was nothing more frustrating than being stuck in a crowd of airhead fashion girlies, up-themselves party types and city boys, louts in morning suits and general wannabe aristo know nothings, when some of the finest racehorses on the planet were a matter of yards away.

Instead, I stayed at home and watched on the BBC. Now, it's perfect - I don't even have to watch the inane, fashioned obsessed BBC lowest common denominator coverage, and can watch instead on At The Races (channel 415) coverage which focuses on the racing and not some idiot fashion drivel. (I just flicked over to BBC1 to be told by the fashion chap that 'black and white is crucial this year'. Purlease.)

Still, it's only nine months to Cheltenham!