Spectator Life

Maybe it was when M&S began selling chicken katsu sando-flavoured crisps, or launched its Plant Kitchen range with its inedible alternative to chicken, or began slathering ‘green goddess sauce’ on already clammy ready salads. Or maybe it was the thousandth time I traipsed, freezing, through the tightly packed rat run of a station M&S Food – there are no fewer than three in King’s Cross – in search of something that I never found. Namely: something nourishing and delicious, rather than a freezing piece of over-marketed randomness. At any rate, many of us in the more high-falutin’ bits of the middle class fell out of love with what was once the high-water mark of grocery.

‘Are you going to Glasto?’ Just the name – in that smug, shortened form – is enough to set my left eyelid twitching, the way it does when I read emails from people who still include pronouns in their signature. ‘Glasto’, trailing the self-satisfied whiff of BBC executives high-tailing it from Hampstead on a taxpayer-funded jolly, of hedgies glamping in a five-grand-a-night yurt and the sort of inherited wealth that means you crash in a mate’s eight-bedroom Old Rectory within the free ticket zone, rather than camping cheek-by-unwashed-jowl with the masses. No, I am not going to Glastonbury. The last time I went – and I can tell you the exact year, because I found the programme while going through some boxes in the attic – was 2004.

I have been in charge of a pizzeria in St John’s Wood for less than a year and already I feel misanthropy taking hold. Most notably, a complete disdain for the general public; I used to think I hated them, but now I can confirm that I definitely, really, hate them. Service is the heart of the hospitality industry, but there’s a certain kind of person who mistakes the waiters and chefs for a cadre of private staff. I used to moan, but now I just numbly get on with putting ketchup in a ramekin for them to have with their sweetcorned pizza. They win – they always win. Then there is the sycophancy. Is there anything more embarrassing than a fully grown man going doe-eyed at the thought of a mention on a website or Instagram page?

There’s not one thing I don’t love about the street in Hove where I live, with the sea at one end and the restaurant quarter at the other; if I had to fetishise a non-sentient thing, like those women who ‘marry’ rollercoasters, I’d be kinky for my street. (‘Avenue’, rather.) One of the lovely things about it is that I can see a section of Hove Lawns from my balcony – the manicured green spaces which differentiate our seafront from Brighton’s in one of many ways. (We smell nice, for a start.) Even better, I can hear Hove Lawns, which was always pleasant for me but – now I’m a cripple – keeps me connected to the beat of the neighbourhood I adore. Recently they hosted a 12-hour tribute band festival and a Soul 2 Soul show in the same weekend – that was fun.

Farmer’s markets are a very cheeky wheeze and we all know it. Their promise – getting back to peasants’ basics of veg yanked from the ground – carries a hefty premium compared to supermarket food, which actual peasants have to buy. Indeed, supermarket food, from veg and fruit to eggs and cheese and bread, is generally two or three times cheaper and tastes just as good. But it seems that we are already in a world so dystopian that only the rich want – and can afford – soily spinach sold loose on a table. Certainly, the rich will queue for sorrel and strawberries, yoghurt and kimchi, raw milk, chicken and sourdough. Especially the sourdough.

My main fancies for Royal Ascot this year have all run in the first three days and the final two days look a lot harder to me in terms of finding good wagers. Winning money from the bookmakers is hard, giving it back to them is easy. I am therefore going to approach today and tomorrow with caution and have fewer bets. In today’s Group 1 Commonwealth Cup (3.05 p.m.) over six furlongs, Shadow of Light and Jonquil have been heavily backed as both horses drop back in trip from a mile. The former was third in the Betfred 2000 Guineas at Newmarket, while the latter was second in the equivalent French race at Longchamp.

At first glance, today’s Britannia Stakes handicap (5 p.m.) at Royal Ascot looks an impossible puzzle to solve. No less than 30 three-year-old runners are due to line up and plenty of them are plot horses that will go on to win off much higher official marks than they are running from today. However, my strong fancy for this race is PAROLE D’ORO to pull off a coup that has been some two years in the planning. This lightly-raced colt has only run three times in his career, just enough to earn a handicap rating. Each of his three runs has seen an improvement but I am convinced the best is yet to come from trainer Michael Bell’s charge.

The Grade 1 Prince of Wales Stakes at Royal Ascot today (4.20 p.m.) is an intriguing contest in which five of the nine runners are priced up at 6-1 or less. Los Angeles and Anmaat will renew their rivalry from the Tattersalls Gold Cup at the Curragh last month when the former beat the latter by half a length. That form, with highly-rated rivals Kalpana in third and White Birch in fourth, looks red hot and so it is not surprising to see these two horses at the top of the market today for this 10-furlong race worth £600,000 to the winning connections. However, at the prices, I am going to side with the horse that was supplemented last week or this race – at a cost of £70,000 – SEE THE FIRE.

The two staying handicaps on day one of Royal Ascot – the Ascot Stakes and the Copper Horse Stakes – are always among my favourite betting races of the week. In both of today’s races, I first look out for a horse that is well handicapped on the flat compared with its hurdles form. Willie Mullins’ Poniros most certainly ticks that box having won the JCB Triumph Hurdle at 100-1 before showing that was no fluke being second to his old rival Luamba in the equivalent Grade 1 event at the Punchestown festival early last month. Poniros undoubtedly has a big chance of landing the Ascot Stakes (5 p.m.