Retired Yorkshire Racing Man Hands YOU His Tips To Copy — Tips That Have Made Him

I'm Not A Tipster By Trade. I'm A Racing Man Who Never Really Left.

Before anything else, let me tell you who I am — because on a page like this, that matters more than anything else you'll read.

My name's Alan Ainsworth. I'm 63. I've spent the best part of my working life around racehorses in the North Yorkshire training belt — different jobs, different yards, different roles over the years, but always somewhere close to the horses and the people who train them. That's not a claim I'm making to sell you something. Anyone in racing up here would tell you the same inside thirty seconds of meeting me.

I'm not a professional gambler. I'm not a data man — you won't find a spreadsheet or an algorithm anywhere near what I do. What I've got is thirty-odd years of knowing this patch of the country and the people in it. The trainers, the lads who ride the work, the form those horses show when nobody from the outside is watching. That's the whole business.

A few years back the working side of things wound down for me, the way it does for most of us eventually. But I never actually left. I still live up here. I still walk the gallops of a morning, out of habit more than anything. I still drink in the same pubs the current lads drink in. Nothing's changed except my wage packet.

This is about what I've done with all that — a simple method for picking tips most mornings, built on nothing cleverer than three decades of paying attention to the same patch of Yorkshire. It's made me a decent living for four years running. Now I'm opening it up to 100 people who want to copy exactly what I do.

Every Big Tipster Service Is Staring At The Same Handful Of Southern Yards.

Here's something worth knowing about the tipster market, and I say this having watched it from the inside for years.

Most services — the big ones, the ones with the polished websites — focus on the same southern yards. Newmarket. Lambourn. The big Group meetings. Makes sense: that's where the TV cameras point, that's where the money is, that's what sells subscriptions.

But it also means those yards are watched to death. Every angle's been picked apart by a hundred different services. There's no edge left in a yard everybody's already staring at. The bookmakers know everything the public knows — and price accordingly.

The North Yorkshire training belt is a different story. Proper racing country — more trainers up here than most people realise — but nowhere near the same level of outside attention. The bookmakers price it up the same way they always have: using public form. They don't have a bloke walking the gallops most mornings. I do.

I Didn't Plan Any Of This. It Just Kept Happening.

For years I never had a reason to write any of it down. You pick things up in this job without trying — which horses are working well, which trainers are quietly confident, which yards are going through a good patch. It's just conversation. It's what people who work in racing talk about.

What changed was retirement. Suddenly I had mornings free, and old habits die hard — I kept walking up to watch the work anyway. And I kept hearing the same things I'd always heard. Except now I had time to actually do something with it instead of filing it away as pub chat.

I started keeping a proper note. Nothing complicated — which horses I fancied, why I fancied them, what I heard, what I saw with my own eyes. Started backing a few myself, more for something to do than anything else. Did alright. Kept doing it.

Word got round — the way it does up here — and a couple of mates asked if I'd just tell them what I fancied. So I did. Then a couple more asked. At some point one of them said I should be charging for it, which had honestly never crossed my mind.

That's the whole origin story. No grand plan. Just a retired racing man who kept doing what he'd always done, and enough people asking about it that it made sense to organise it properly.

No Data. No Algorithms. Just Thirty Years Of Knowing The Right People.

I want to be straight about what this is and isn't — there's a lot of AI and data-driven tipping about at the minute, and I'm none of that.

What I do is simple enough to explain in two sentences. I watch what I can see with my own eyes on the gallops most mornings. I hear what the lads and trainers are saying — nothing improper, just the ordinary racing conversation you only get to have if you've been a fixture round here for thirty years. Then I put both together with the public form and the prices on offer, and most mornings I come up with two to four horses I think are worth a bet.

That last point matters more than anything else on this page. Some mornings there's nothing. Some weeks there's not much. I'd rather send you nothing than send you rubbish to make it look like I'm earning my keep.

Four Complete Years Of Profit — And 2026 Already Ahead Of Pace.

I've kept a proper record since I started — not just of the winners, of everything. Every tip, every price taken, every result. Nothing cherry-picked, nothing left out. Four complete years done. 2026 still running.

That's on £20 win stakes — small money, nothing reckless. Around three bets per day, most racing days. Here's what the same record looks like at different stake levels:

His actual account — £42,996 in the bank as of today, recently taken. With 3 months of the racing season still to run.

Past results are not a guarantee of future profit. Stakes involve risk. Losing runs will occur — as I explain in full below.

It Doesn't Get Simpler Than This: Read. Copy. Profit.

Here's what you don't need to make this work for you:

• You don't need to understand ratings, class levels, or going conditions.
• You don't need to know anything about Yorkshire racing yourself.
• You don't need to check anything during the day — the email either comes or it doesn't.
• You don't need special software, data subscriptions, or a particular bookmaker.
• You don't need any betting experience whatsoever — first-timers and 20-year veterans are on the same footing here.

Here's the full list of what you do need:

• An email inbox you check in the morning.
• A bookmaker or exchange account (any high-street or online bookie will do — Betfair too).
• A betting bank you can afford to lose, split into sensible level stakes.
• The patience to accept quiet days and quiet weeks as part of the deal.

That's the lot. Read the morning email. Copy the selections and the price to take. Collect your winnings, or put it down to experience and wait for the next one. It takes less than twenty minutes of your morning.

The First Members Have Been Quietly Profiting Ever Since.

The first time I opened this up to anyone other than mates, I took on 100 members for an initial trial. I was honest with them about what it was — no promises beyond what the record showed, no inflated projections.

We've been keeping quiet ever since — just getting on with it. Now I'm opening a second tranche of 100 places, and this letter is the only place that's being advertised.

Six Winners From 2026 Alone. All £20 Stakes. All Sent Before The Race.

Here's what the last few months look like in practice. Every one of these was in members' inboxes before the off.

A sample of 2026's winners — all sent to members before the race. All £20 stakes, William Hill.

None of those needed a computer. Just someone stood in the right field, at the right time, who's been doing it long enough to know what he's looking at.

The Quiet Runs. Because You Deserve To Know Those Too.

I'm not going to dress this up. Somewhere in that four-year record is a losing run — a stretch without a winner, a few days with no email at all because nothing lined up. It happens. Every honest tipster will tell you the same.

This isn't a service that fires out fifteen tips a week to keep you entertained. Some weeks are quiet. That's not the method failing — that's the method doing exactly what it's meant to do, which is only bet when there's a proper reason to.

Why I'm Not Taking More Than 100 Of You.

Two honest reasons, and neither of them is marketing.

First — the same reason any tipster caps membership. Too many people piling onto the same morning price and the value disappears before half of you can get on. A hundred members is quiet enough that the price holds. Five hundred wouldn't be.

Second, and the one that matters more up here: I still live in this community. I still drink with these people. If word got round that half the internet was betting off the back of what I hear in the Black Bull on a Thursday, the conversations would dry up fast — nobody talks freely in front of a betting syndicate. A hundred quiet members doesn't change anything about how people talk to me. Five thousand would.

So it stays at 100. When they're gone, the page comes down.

Why A Retired Man Is Bothering With Any Of This.

Fair question. Here's the honest answer.

The pension doesn't stretch as far as it used to. Nobody's does. I'm not trying to build a tipping empire — I'm 63, I've got no interest in that. But if a hundred people want to copy what I've been doing quietly for years, and that covers a few extras without me having to change a single thing about how I spend my mornings, then that's a deal worth making.

What I'm not trying to do is sell you a lifestyle. I'm trying to share something that's worked, for a fair price, with people who'll actually use it properly. That's the whole ambition.

Please Don't Join If Any Of This Is You.

• You want tips every single day, rain or shine — this isn't that service.
• You're after huge, life-changing wins — this is steady, patient, and built for the long run.
• You're planning to use rent money or funds you genuinely can't afford to sit on for a few weeks.
• You can't sit through a quiet week without panicking or asking for a refund.

If any of that's you, keep your £37. No hard feelings, genuinely.

30 Days. £37. 100 Places.

Most mornings, an email lands with two to four horses in it and the prices to take. Some mornings there's nothing, because there's nothing worth sending. Either way, that's the whole service.

Thirty days costs £37 — one-off payment, no subscription, no rebilling, nothing to cancel. And it's covered by a full 30-day money-back guarantee. If it's not for you, you tell us and every penny of your £37 comes back. Simple as that.

Questions I Get Asked Most.

How is this different from a normal tipster service?

Most tipsters cover all UK and Irish racing using the same public form everyone else has. I only tip horses trained in the specific part of Yorkshire I know from the inside — thirty years of it. Smaller pool, but a genuine edge on it that no data service can replicate.

How many tips per day?

Typically two to four when there's action worth backing. Some days nothing — and that's intentional. I don't send for the sake of it. In practice most members find there's enough activity most weeks to make it very worthwhile.

How much should I bet?

Whatever you're comfortable with. Most members start between £5 and £20 win stakes and adjust from there. Never bet money you need for anything else — this is a side income, not a salary replacement.

Do I need to be in the UK?

No. The first round of members included people in Portugal, South Africa, Dubai, the US, Ireland, France, Spain, Italy and Malta. If you can get an email and place a bet, you can follow this from anywhere.

Which bookmakers should I use?

Any high-street or online bookie. Betfair and other exchanges are fine too. The tips work across the board — use whoever you're comfortable with.

What happens after my 30 days?

Ongoing membership is available at £37/month, rolling monthly, cancel any time. If your place is still available at the end of your trial you'll receive an email with the option to continue — no automatic rebilling without your consent.

What if there's no email some mornings?

That means nothing worth backing lined up that morning. It happens, and I won't apologise for it. I'd rather send you nothing than send you something I don't believe in.

That's everything. No flashy claims, no algorithms, no promises of a life-changing fortune. Just a Yorkshireman who knows his patch — and thirty years of contacts who tell him things the form book never will.

The rest is up to you.