SPREWELL GETS MY DERBY VOTE

Sir Bob doesn't claim to have the Epsom secret but he hopes the Harrington hopeful wins

Without further delay, let’s clear the Derby picture straight away. Fundamentally I haven’t a clue what will win and I would question the integrity of anyone, Aidan O’Brien and Charlie Appleby included, who says otherwise. Admittedly due to the pressures of deadlines (it’s not only creditors who snap at your heels) I am totally oblivious to any of the York classic trials, and those following, but from past experience the more trials you observe the foggier the overall image becomes. I haven’t experienced many recurring dreams or nightmares like we frequently see depicted on our TV screens but there is one that qualifies for a repeat fee. I am driving my elderly VW Golf (almost 280,000 miles now) at high speed (around 60 mph) along a motorway and the headlights fade to black and I am unable to slow down. It is terrifying, and like in the movies, I wake up thrashing and lashing out, often interrupting Mrs C’s dream-fest, until I realise that it’s 3am and all is well. It’s similar to my Derby prognoses; the field hurtles round Tattenham corner, deftly avoiding any pink shirted protestors, before the picture freezes in a blur of jockey’s silks.