When Patrick met Danny: top riders discuss vices, quitting and WillieMullinsLand

He marches into the room, long arms swinging back and forward, bubbling like a Coke can that's been shaken but not opened. At nearly six foot and weighing slightly over ten stone, there isn't much width to him but he is anything but scrawny. As the jockey who probably spends the most time in the gym, everything about him is hard and lean. Gone is the long hair-banded hair of the summer, replaced by a more conventional hairstyle for the seriousness of the winter. His shirt, as usual, is tucked in tightly to his belted chinos as he folds himself neatly into a chair. Everything is always done neatly. And usually with a wry grin.

"Have any hot chocolate?"

Danny Mullins doesn't drink, but I do recall having to tie him on to his saddle aged 12, when he took a little too much whiskey from a farmer on a day's ride with Enda Bolger. He doesn't smoke either. Chocolate is his vice of choice. Having recently tried all ten different flavours of hot chocolate at the local coffee shop, he has decided that the salted caramel is far superior to the others. "But no marshmallows or cream, makes it too sweet," he says with a grimace.