Tiger Roll clawed his way to glory amid the heart-warming subplots

You can, if you will excuse the expression, stuff your overnight sensations and one-hit wonders up your jumper.

True legends grow in the telling and Tiger Roll, who you could slot through a tube of Polo mints without touching the sides, cleaved himself even closer to jump racing's throbbing heart with a Grand National triumph that flirted with coronary country to emerge rampantly celebratory.

Coming to the Elbow the engravers were already chiselling the hugely popular Tiger Roll's name on the trophy. But in the last 100 yards he began to empty like a basin of water and, with the winning line no more than an arm's length away, it looked as though triumph was about to gurgle down the plughole as David Mullins drew a phenomenal late rattle from Pleasant Company.