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Ascot Diary Day Two: "The rest just shouts 'boobs'"

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Jack Houghton offers more insights than Zara Phillips dressed as an anarchist oompah-band

Clare has come up with a theory overnight. Apparently, Aidan is always on the phone because it's a comfort blanket to him; a way of stopping people encroaching into his world of nerves. Willie thinks he might agree, but then thinks he might not. Kev (or is it Ray?) is trying to work out where the camera is and the debate passes him by.

James and Julia begin fashion proceedings with a somewhat staged exit from a Roller. Julia - with her unusually deep voice that reminds me of a wrong number I once had on speed-dial - tries to explain how thrilling everything is. Unfortunately it keeps coming out as "swilling"; which doesn't sound nearly as appealing. James, who closes his eyes a lot to make himself look demur, disapproving and naughty all at once, explains the debacle surrounding the official colour of the Queen's outfit yesterday. He said champagne, they said buttermilk; and confusion could have been avoided if the Palace had called him beforehand as agreed.

Clare and Willie do their thing for a while, but in the latest of a procession of BBC audio cock-ups, you can hardly hear them above the same oompa-band that drowned out God Save The Queen yesterday. I'm beginning to really admire the anarchistic nature of said band and half expect to see them pop-up in the middle of the track during tomorrow's Gold Cup.

Representing Ladbrokes and private education is a chap called Williams. Representing Hills and the university of life (or at least Walthamstow dogs) is a geezer called Hood. They talk up the disaster that awaits their firms should Duke Of Marmalade and Bankable do the double, with Williams thrashing a rather weak analogy about champagne, and Hood reminiscing about the apocalyptic Magnificent Seven. Rishi is happy to be swept along with these portents of doom and doesn't question why they are both so jolly about it. But then he doesn't question whether there is any truth in it either. Instead he raffishly throws some coins into Hood's upturned topper and the interview ends.

Non-runners arrive 12 minutes into the programme today, bringing universal annoyance no doubt from those who would have preferred more fashion coverage beforehand.

Barty - Clare's only ally in sanity and televisual talent - announces that it's Ray's 51st birthday. They play with their fancy screen with the pointy arrows, which they seem to be getting to grips with now, and then Ray waffles on for a bit about I know not what. It must be his age.

James, admonished after viewer complaints that he was too nice yesterday, warms up his critical tongue by exclaiming about one woman's outfit: "Oh my goodness; it looks like origami." I'm unsure whether that's a good thing, but guess not. And he's even got a thing to say about the Queen today, commenting on his relief that she is not wearing her Burberry cape. Does the Queen ever wear Burberry? Only when she's down at Stamford Bridge with the stockbrokers-cum-hooligans I expect. Clare tries to walk back the comment by saying he meant it a relief because otherwise we wouldn't be able to see her beautiful outfit. But I'm not sure that's what the fork-tongued monster meant.

James continues on a more positive note, explaining how good the Royal males look, particularly the Duke of Edinburgh in the trouser department. And he gets excited about some rarely seen piece of royal jewellery. James is sniffing a lot today, and a long sniff proceeds his suggestion that the carriage horses wear blinkers so as not to be scared by some of the outfits.

Celebrity Come Dancing star, Anton Du Beck, is the special guest today. Now this man is class, I've seen him before. He joins the husky Julia in a paper review of yesterday's fashion and says of Zara Phillips' outfit: "I love the hat and shoes; but the rest just shouts boobs..." There is an uncomfortable pause as Julia no doubt wonders how to recover the situation, but, quick as a flash, Anton steps in: "...which is a good look." Genius.

The Jersey Stakes out of the way and Jim McGrath gives a fascinating sermon on how seven furlongs falls, as a distance, between six and eight. Groundbreaking stuff Jim, you should ask for a pay-rise for that kind of insight.

While that guy from Never The Twain is presenting the Jersey trophies; James, Julia and Anton warm-up for a Vivienne Westwood catwalk show. James gives one of his unfathomable descriptions, categorising Westwood as a marriage of punk sensibilities with rococo. Anton and James are testing each other out and briefly clash over a finer point of fashion while some woman, who may be called Chinchilla, but might not be, explains how one particular dress is a political statement against holding terrorism suspects without trial. I don't see the message myself, but then my attire today of three-quarter length combats and a Whitesnake tee-shirt suggests I perhaps don't have the requisite fashion insight to see such things.

Clare, Willie and Kev address a multitude of emails they have received regarding the fair and unfair use of pacemakers. The legitimacy of Haradasun's win is called into question, but Kev says that his team mates did nothing to advance his cause. Except to move off the rails to let Haradasun through he admits. But it appears this does not count as handing a stable-mate an advantage. Willie expertly rounds off the debate: "Pacemakers help everyone." Except those who might want to make their own pace, on their own merits, of course Willie. Still, the debate is clearly over and matters are thankfully handed to the sense-talking James.

He's really hit full stride now, describing various women and their outfits as: "war-widow", "funereal" and, "like something from Moulin Rouge". He has also established various short-hand insults representing his own pet-hates. On many occasions he simply barks: "hair down", "shoulders" or "tan". And he has a habit of comparing his subjects to other, presumably famous people. But I get the impression that none of them represent a compliment. He finishes off this segment by proclaiming: "I wish my sex life was as busy as that." Anton is visibly scared and has physically distanced himself from Julia and James. He wants to be somewhere else.

And so does Rishi. He picks it up: "It looks like they're having tremendous fun, those three." He looks regrettably towards his new sidekick, Ray, and realises that there is no fun to be had here.

Over to BBC2 and I catch the end of an episode of Magnum PI. Hang on, what's this? A cameo appearance from Jessica Fletcher? My word Magnum, those shorts are very short. The episode ends with Magnum asking Jessica not to take out a PI licence if he agrees not to buy a type-writer. Jessica, stupidly in my opinion (she has more chance of making it as a PI than Magnum does of becoming a crime-writer) agrees. The programme ends and the theme tune informs me that it was in fact Magnum cameo-ing on Murder She Wrote, and not the other way round as I had originally thought.

BBC2 launches its coverage with part two of Willie's visit to Savile Row. It seems the little midget has ignored advice and plumped for black. James rolls his eyes in astonishment. Willie by now is a fashion expert and is explaining to the tailor how trousers hang better when worn with braces. In his self-deprecating manner, Willie then describes himself as a dwarf, something the tailor refutes, albeit after sufficient pause to make the rebuttal insincere. There is more discussion about the superb value that a £3,500 bespoke morning suit represents, before Willie expertly and subtly plugs James' book about Savile Row.

The Prince of Wales's Stakes sees leg two of my Trixie come in and signals the start of the next instalment of the Aidan show. The Duke is an unbelievable horse. He's the real deal. He's shown more pace this year but could go further and has lots of options. July Cup or Arc? It's the same tough decision that he faces with Henrythenavigator.

Still, I have news on the "Who is Aidan calling?" question. I swear I hear him say: "How are you Ma?" on placing the phone to his ear after the Duke's win. It scuppers Clare's "comfort blanket" theory, but shows what a nice man he is. Group One winner, call Mum.

Anton and Julia are back at the catwalk, looking at some of the finalists for face of Ascot 2008. Anton keeps things going nicely with innuendo layered upon innuendo about liking girls with stamina and good hind-quarters. Meanwhile, James is in the parade ring. He sees it as his rightful place. Apparently, it's where real taste is on show. Peach is always delightful isn't it?

I've got a Betfair Radio spot to do, previewing tomorrow's action, and so miss what comes next, although I do overhear James describe something as "positively Islamic", before continuing: "No Burqa's required." Crikey Jim, steady on. Have you not heard about Salmon Rushdie?

I get off the radio in time to have missed the Queen Anne. Barty is drawing his arrows on his TV and Ray is explaining that, on the new Ascot course: "if you're there with half a furlong to go, you've every chance of winning." As far as insight goes it's right up there with McGrath's seven furlong sermon from earlier.

Thankfully the analysis segment ends quickly and we get the day's fashion round-up. There's some waving at policemen, which Julia gets very excited about, but with which James refuses involvement. And then it's over; until tomorrow.