There was a few moments when I thought that having my panties for a trophy would be enough for them all, but I was wrong. Again my legs were the tar...et as both Paul and Ollie stroked them and then started slowly to prise them apart again which I tried to resist without any success. By now I think I was resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to stop what was happening without causing a lot of embarrassment to all concerned and so I tried to relax a little and had another drink. The mournful whine of electric motors was virtually drowned out by the ear-splitting roar and clatter of steel on steel. I felt my heart beat faster with the anticipation of what was to come and a little flurry of butterflies in my guts. No matter how many ‘dips’ and ‘picks’ I make I still get the same excitement as when I did my first job at Wimbledon dog track. I’ve been told by the older hands that once that ‘buzz’ goes it’s time to give up. Good advice I reckon, because if you’ve got no. More

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