biggins, bare chests and sandals

How to handle the heat.

I cannot believe the media coverage of the excellent Cheltenham Countdown event on Tuesday.

Fair enough to some people the news that Black Jack Ketchum would not run in the Ladbrokes World Hurdle if the ground stays as it is may be a big story.

Okay so the handicapper did say he would rather have a 50/1 winner of a big race than a blanket finish. Is that news? Well perhaps.

But the nugget that had me gasping, that rocked me to the core, was that John Kettley is predicting unseasonably mild temperatures for Festival week. It is not good news.

I have been there before, a sweaty, light-headed wreck of a man on the members' lawn. Strangers throw water at me and try to keep me upright with ropes. It isn't dissimilar to the act of mercy that greeted the whale that meandered up the Thames last year.

You see I don't just sweat, I ooze. Always have. And at the Festival, where you are tense enough to start with, sidestepping people and barging past stairwell dwellers only adds to the moisture.

And what about pockets? My pin-stripe farrars can't possibly cope with all I need to carry about but a coat - in anything over 15 degrees celcius - is a no-no.

If I wear a light summer suit I begin to resemble Christopher Biggins in his On Safari pomp and my wedding/funeral number tends to be a real heat generator.

I know the dress code at Cheltenham is rather relaxed but I'm not convinced I would get past the security on the Press Room door in a muscle top and jogging shorts.

Shoes too are a concern. I only own two pairs of black leather numbers. Are Jesus sandals scorned upon at the home of National Hunt racing?

And the beard? Don't even start on the beard. It is a haven for loose food and dandruff so quite what muck-sweat could be generated beneath the light dusting on my chin is anyone's guess.

But sweating on the opening three days of the Festival could be to my advantage.

If Desert Quest is declared to run in both the Smurfit Champion Hurdle and the County Hurdle he will be forced to carry 12-8 in the latter contest under new rules.

Again my ears pricked up. Would Paul Nicholls really want Ruby Walsh and a saddle full of lead for such a burden? Surely not. Perhaps it is better to have someone closer to his natural weight aboard. OK so there may a couple of stone overweight - and I would have to ride bare chested as the silks would pinch a tad - but I am available and hold a full driving licence.

It's not clean thanks to a pathetic jobsworth crouched in a layby near Featherstone - but a licence nonetheless.

I await the call.