The day he tried to eat Princess Anne’s coat!

LITTLE ALF’S books have raised funds for Riding For The Disabled and this year he was rewarded with an invitation to meet Princess Anne.

I wasn’t sure that this was a good idea. What if she were wearing a dress? Little Alf has often stuck his head up my skirt and flashed my knickers.

But we couldn’t turn down such an honour, so the night before I put his mane and tail in rollers, brushing some hair gel through it to make it glossy.

Little Alf had to be examined by sniffer dogs. Then a policeman examined his undercarriage, looking for bombs.

By the time we got to the pen, Alf was rearing and kicking. In the midst of this, one of the Princess’s assistants was trying to coach me on etiquette. My curtsey looked like I was trying to headbutt someone.

Then, almost without warning, Princess Anne was walking towards us.

‘It’s lovely to meet you and Alfie,’ she said as I performed my wobbly curtsey. She held out a black-and-gold certificate. As I reached to take it Alf lunged — and grabbed it.

Princess Anne burst out laughing. I tried to prise his teeth apart and he spat it out. Covered in drool, it fluttered to the ground where it was coated with earth and sawdust.

I didn’t know what to do...so I did the worst thing possible. I handed it back to the Princess.

‘Ooh, that’s nice,’ she said, and an aide rushed to hand her a tissue. The Princess pretended to give Little Alf a telling off, wagging a finger at his nose. When we posed for the official photograph he started nibbling the buttons on her coat.

After ten minutes, for much of which the Princess couldn’t stop laughing, our audience was over. But my horse wasn’t finished causing mayhem.

One of the bodyguards was standing in front of us with a radio strapped to the back of his belt. Little Alf leaned forward and took a bite.

The bodyguard leapt in the air, and then turned round to stare at me. ‘Oi,’ he said, ‘did you just pinch my bum?’