Once upon a time, it seemed racegoers were a predictable breed. Dressed for the occasion, they had respect for themselves and others. Perhaps, I'm just having a fleeting moment of nostalgia. To be fair, I didn't go to the races until the 1980s but times have changed.
In the last decade, big race meetings haven't just seen quality horses, sophistication, and refinement. Sure, that still exists, but so, it seems, does the possibility of being met by a drunken ''lady'' dressed to the nines. The fascinator isn't on her head - its the fact she's got her tits out!
I'm sure there are plenty of men (and women) who love to see such sights and I must admit I may even take a good look but what is it about modern horse racing meetings such as Aintree, Royal Ascot & Great Yarmouth (I made up the last) which sees women more interested in getting their bits out. I'm not sure when the first glimpse of the adult nature reared its head (so to speak) but it has been publicised in the press on a par with the greatest Cheltenham Gold Cup winners.
Thinking of an (in) appropriate Gold Cup winner made for tabloid headlines: Red Splash (1924) ridden by Dick Rees fits the bill.
While ''researching'' this article, I saw the rather unattractive sight of an overweight man in his 50s running loose, naked, at Prestbury Park. Given a choice, I would have rather it been a buxom blonde, because the man in question would have frightened the flagman from waving his flag. Definitely a false start in every sense of the word.
I guess the combination of a sunny day at the races, unending glasses if not a bottle of Dom Perignon, make the chest heave, the dress rise above the knee, and a temptation to sprawl out on the turf a good idea. It's the difficultly of getting to their feet which isn't so graceful.
Much of these goings-on are due to the fact the tabloid press almost encourages such misbehavour. It's like throwing a chunk of steak to a shoal of piranha. Men shouting: ''Get your tits out for the boys''. Page three, four, five, and six, here we cum (sic).
The odds of you being pictured rise greatly when the bra clasp pings.
In truth, it is a self fulfilling prophecy, because unless the press and social media don't take an interest in the sensational it wouldn't be flaunted. In a day when so many people are in search of fame or self-promotion, the levels will fall lower and lower until the point pure disgust is achieved. I'm sure some of you will remember the story about a young couple having sex on course. In some respects, it is almost humorous. But in other ways, it is a sad reflection of what is ''acceptable''.
For some going to the races is all about refinement while others it's getting their kit off.
What are the odds of it happening at Royal Ascot?
Jason Coote is the founder of many horse racing websites and known British gambler.