Mighty Yeats is pure poetry in motion after Ascot Gold Cup treble

And with due respect to Her Majesty and Dame Helen - not forgetting dear old Cilla - it was the four-legged thoroughbred who deservedly commanded most attention with a performance in the Gold Cup that will long live in the memory of an enthusiastic and appreciative Ladies' Day crowd.

No rough beast: Johnny Murtagh and Yeats

Yeats, a seven-year-old son of that most prolific of sires, Sadler's Wells, looked like poetry in persistent motion as he ran a French-trained pretender into the Ascot dirt then repelled the same horse which chased him home last year.

With the same almost inevitable outcome. It mattered not that Yeats suffered the indignity of being led into the winner's circle by a shrub.

At least that appeared to be what owner Mrs Sue Magnier was wearing on her head. No wonder Dame Helen Mirren, who presented the trophies for the previous race, declared that she had never seen anything funnier than the Royal Ascot hats.

Out on the racecourse, away from the frills and the frippery, a proper horse was running a proper race.

Eyeball to eyeball, Yeats and Coastal Path rounded the final bend with the latter stubbornly holding the inside line.

'You cheeky young whippersnapper,' the mighty Yeats seemed to be saying as he glanced to his right.

Eventually, French resistance was broken and the Irish champion waited for his next challenge. It came from Geordieland, the equal in age but mismatched in terms of class, stamina and fighting spirit. The bid came and went.

Later, standing centre stage as if waiting for a crown rather than a bucket of refreshing water, Yeats looked a true King in the Sport of Kings. A sport of Queens, too, yesterday. With Dame Helen Mirren, who played the Queen in, er, The Queen, the celebrated film of that name, and HRH herself presenting the prizes in consecutive races, there was feverish activity among photographers to capture the pair together. They had never met. They still have not.

They remained perhaps 20 yards apart in the parade ring, though efforts to align them like a pair of heavenly bodies appeared to be thwarted by the presence of too many acolytes, orbiting like asteroids.

'We live in the same country,' said Dame Helen, trying to dismiss the fuss. 'We are allowed to be at the same place at the same time.'

Dame Helen was wearing what she called an 'unkissing hat', with a brim so low that it repelled all invaders.

She had not counted on both the size and guile of Willie Carson, who easily ducked under her defences and landed a smacker on both cheeks.

Earlier, Cilla Black, celebrating 45 years in show business, handed out the silverware to the connections of South Central, the winner of the opening race.

She, too, was wearing a hat - a much-admired creation of Philip Treacy, apparently.

Unlike the first time she wore one. 'He did my first Blind Date wedding,' she said. 'Someone said I looked like one of Ken Dodd's Diddy Men.'

Sport was represented by golfer Lee Westwood, fresh from his third place finish in the U.S. Open. Westwood watched his Thundering Star come seventh in the Gold Cup.

'I have a share in 18 horses now,' he revealed. 'No you don't,' manager Chubby Chandler intervened.

'We have nine. Eighteen includes the ones we sold and the ones who died,' he quipped. Westwood played with Tiger Woods in the final round last Sunday.

'I saw him wince a lot but I had no idea it was that bad,' said the Englishman of the dramatic news that the world No 1 would not play again this year.

It is a decision that affects many in different ways. What, for example, would Harry Findlay, multiple owner and professional punter, do now that he could not lump on Woods? 'Starve,' he replied.