Sport of swings serves up expensive week as Rose wilts from front

How did you get on then? Did you back lots of fast horseys? Did you back lots of stamina-packed horseys? Did you back lots of really-good-at-jumping-fences horseys? Did you back any fast, stamina-packed, really-good-at-jumping-fences horseys? I've heard they are the best ones to back.

Me? I didn't back any horseys. I did not lose a penny on the Cheltenham Festival because I did not risk a penny. Call me a killjoy if you want. Call me a bore. Call me a wet lettuce. Call me a stupid, fat, revolting waste of space. Actually, go easy now – I'm starting to well up.

But, whatever you call me, I am a wet lettuce who still has a house in which he can dry off. If I had bet on the 28 Cheltenham races, there is a chance I would have ended up as a wet, homeless lettuce just getting moister and moister on the damp streets of England. I know absolutely nothing about horseracing and have finally cottoned on to the fact that this lack of knowledge should translate to punting abstinence on the so-called Sport of Kings.