Having trained the runner-up in the Grand National twice – and once in the Topham Chase for good measure – Aintree gives me an annual dose of PTSD. But I’m drawn into our farm sweepstake every year as surely as the sailors in Greek mythology were lured onto the rocks by the Sirens.

This year’s draw, however, was tinged with sadness, as it was the first sweep since my mother died. And boy, did she like to win it. I first watched the National with her in 1968, when Red Alligator won. We were in Gatwick airport peering at a very small television, and I was pushed to the back and told to keep an eye on the bags. I was furious.

Oh the joy of watching Keir Starmer descend into fury!

The hateful posts of yet another Green party candidate

Christopher Eccleston is right about young white men

To psych myself up this year for the big race, I dropped into Oswald’s in Albermarle Street, my favourite club in London. I think I’m a member, but I never like to ask. We started with a Santa Maria Valley Chardonnay which my stomach would normally mistake for battery acid, but it slipped down nicely before we really leaned into the 2005 Château Lafite.

Zack Polanski’s plan to abolish the Grand National is of course more about political hatred

Zack Polanski’s plan to abolish the Grand National is of course more about........

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