I found  myself watching that pretentious piece of Old Shag called “Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown” some time ago, when a snippet of trivia got wedged in my napper.

You probably know the format; it’s a panel game hosted by some self-important prig with a laugh like a donkey and a couple of women “experts” - a looker who deals with some numbers and a dowdy looking piece that doesn’t.  Well, the dowdy bint was holding forth about the derivation of the phrase “to ginger up”.  Apparently it’s to do with the practice of shoving ginger into a horse’s arse hole to gee it up a bit.  Naturally, one of the wags on the panel interrupted to ask “I wonder what the first bloke to do that was up to?”

And this, with no right to do so, has stuck in my noddle like a squatter on benefits.  So much so that I have started to give it muse time myself.

For example, it seems unlikely that the four components to this parable (the bloke, the horse, the ginger and the idea) came together all at the same time.  It seems to me to be far more plausible that the bloke had previously researched the issue of anal stimulation on himself.  (I rejected the notion that the horse had had the original idea).  But how did he arrive at ginger?  Was it among a long line of possibilities he’d bought from Spice Rack or Mr Patel’s corner shop?  Would mustard or chilli have worked?  Did he experiment with other produce?  a small Jersey Royal, perhaps? Or a well lubricated parsnip?

If he did I suppose he rejected these prospects as too indiscreet.  I expect the stewards would have got suspicious to see the winner of the 2.30 at Kempton Park haring down the final furlong  with a stick of celery protruding from its arse.

Anyway, can’t stop nattering.  I’m off to the chemist for some Fiery Jack.