A pity more could not witness Winters' muddy marvellous victory roll

Noel Meade has a saying about his countrymen from deep in the south of Ireland: "Look, he's from Cork and there is nothing you can take for it."

Well, Mick Winters is a Cork man to his inner Kanturk kernel and I'm glad there is no cure for that because this hugely popular character made Cheltenham his own yesterday when Chatham Street Lad tore the Caspian Caviar to shreds from the second-last to bolt up by 15 lengths to the odd cry of, "referee, stop the contest".

Winters is often described as eccentric but I would go for pleasingly bonkers or genially wired to the moon. He certainly has the gift of the gabble and rattles out the words like a Gatling gun and is both funny and self-deprecating. If all his horses started falling down he'd still have a great future in stand-up.