Okay, guv'nor, what's it all about then?

What is it all about? That is not as existential a question as it first seems; no-one seeks the meaning of life in a weekly racing column.

People look elsewhere – I like the probably apocryphal story of the London cabbie who told his meter mates that he'd had that Bertrand Russell (philosopher, logician, Nobel laureate) in the back of his cab last night: "I arsked him wot it was all abaht, and, do you know wot, he said he didn't know," – with varying degrees of success, but perhaps instead we'll have a fair chance of divining what racing is all about.

What's it all about then? Well, winning is probably what it's all about. That's why people are in and into racing, trainers, jockeys, owners, breeders, punters, racegoers, stable staff, bookmakers, the whole boiling lot of them. Did you have a winner? Tell me about your last winner. Three winners from four rides. Win and you're in. Her first two foals were winners. Stop at a winner.