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Snobbery, elitism and military processions can only mean one thing – you’ve pitched up in the historic county of Berkshire and it’s Royal Ascot week.
Almost a third of a million race-goers will throng Ascot’s enclosures with one thing in mind: to get their mates to post a picture of them on Twitter and watch the highest quality few days of Flat racing this side of the Arc de Triomphe or Breeders’ Cup.
Ascot is England’s answer to the Galway festival in Ireland except nobody outside a few descendents of a dodgy German bloodline is actually welcome.
They’re just there to fund it. And in time-honoured doorman tradition if you don’t dress properly, you ain’t gettin’ in mate.
From Tuesday to Saturday jellied eels, chip butties and cans of Tennents lager are stuffed down the side of the couch and replaced by foie gras, caviar and pink champagne as Britain goes racing mad.
And if it’s Black Caviar you’re into, the Australian sprinter puts her unbeaten record on the line in the Diamond Jubilee Stakes while Frankel tries to enhance his lofty reputation record in the Queen Anne Stakes.
(Infographic design: Rachel Merrigan/Paddy Power)