It's the Grand National

It's Grand National day. That Saturday when I make my annual donation to the Bookmakers Benevolent Fund. A day when I sit excitedly in front of the telly, sweaty palmed (yes, I'm still talking about the Grand National!) and watch my brave selection make his valiant, heroic attempt to win this historic race...only to collapse in a sorry heap at the first fence. It's not like I just stick a pin in the runners & riders, I study form. Is the horse a distance winner? A course winner? At least won something other than a church raffle? What's his star sign? (funnily enough, every racehorse is a Capricorn, like me!) Then I look to the jockey, the trainer, anything to give me the edge over Mr William Hill. But it never amounts to anything other than bitter disappointment, similar to that feeling the person who invented the wheel had when his glory was snatched away from him by the bugger who invented two wheels!
For the record : I've gone for Don't Push It...Lord have mercy on his soul.