My Advice to Kieren Fallon Would Be: Don't Come Back

Summary


EVERYTHING is going swimmingly until John McCririck decides to snap.

One minute he's outside in the free zing- cold rain at Sandown races, hamming it up for the camera. He waggles a huge cigar in the lens and pretends to do tick-tack movements. He touches his shoulders and then his head. "Nine-totwo.

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My Advice to Kieren Fallon Would Be: Don't Come Back

Nine-to-four!" he yells excitedly.

Then, all of a sudden, in the middle of telling me how he gets his huge cigars from a wonderful little shop in Las Vegas, he rounds on the photographer.

"I haven't got time for this!" he says.

"I'll give you one more minute. Forty seconds! Twenty, ten. That's it!"

And then he stalks off, me in tow, muttering about people not doing their jobs properly.

"That's the problem with society," he says. "Everyone's claiming everything...

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