GOOD news, folks. According to reports, the two cavalry horses injured after bolting through the streets of London have been discharged from an equine medical centre.

Or, as the old joke dictates it SHOULD be called, a horsepital.

As I insisted last week, my dad could have stopped the two runaway horses in their tracks simply by putting a fiver on them.

My auld man has been the bookies’ pal for most of his 90 years (as he prefers to put it, he gives generously to sick animals).

I remember my mum asking us years ago if we’d had a good day at the zoo with my dad.

And my wee sister said: “Yes, it was great fun. Especially when one of the animals finished first at 8/1.”

Sure enough, when he took ill a couple of weeks ago, the panic-stricken manager of his local Coral betting shop sent him a defibrillator, two canisters of oxygen and a free subscription for BUPA.

All kidding aside, though, why would you even THINK of going private when we are........

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