Then again, the King George VI chase has from its inception been richly imbued with drama and spectacle both on and off the course.

Not only is it now the principal showpiece of the entire Christmas racing programme, but is also arguably the most important steeplechase of the season. It is a race that makes champions and memories but can just as often leave only sadness and regret in its wake.

First run in 1937 it would probably be now called the Edward VIII chase if it wasn't for the persuasive talents of Mrs Simpson (Wallis that is, not Marge). She convinced her regal lover, the then King Edward VIII, that being married to her was a far more pleasurable career option for a gentleman than ruling an Empire. Edward soon abdicated for the 'woman he loved' and his brother, Prince Albert, was reluctantly crowned King George VI.

This was a development that the new His Majesty welcomed with the same anticipation as a trip round the Grand National course without either reins or a saddle, but as a consolation prize he was given some large palaces, lots of lovely paintings and had the big new Christmas Chase at Kempton named after him.

This wasn't to be the end of Mrs Simpson's influence on the race, although admittedly it was to become a lot more indirect. A couple of years later her friend, Adolf Hitler, went to war with King George VI and Kempton Park was converted into a prisoner of war camp. The race was abandoned for the next seven years. The German prisoners were less obsessed with hole-digging than their English counter parts and, mercifully, when the race resumed in 1946 the horses didn't subside into a complex network of undiscovered escape tunnels. If Kempton was Colditz there is no guessing what equine carnage might have ensued.

Since then the race has gone from strength to strength and there is an argument to be made that its three-mile trip on an uncomplicated course is a more meaningful designator of the season's Champion chaser than the Gold Cup, which tends to throw up quirky results over the longer distance and undulating track.

The King George is certainly more consistent and predictable in its outcome than the Cheltenham race.

In the last 40 years it has been won on multiple occasions by nine different horses, yet, in the same period only two horses have won the Gold Cup more than once.

Pendil, Captain Christy, Silver Buck, Wayward Lad, Desert Orchid, The Fellow, One Man, See More Business and Kicking King have triumphed in the Kempton race no less than 21 times, yet between them have won only seven Gold Cups. The argument is that while good horses win Gold Cups once, they return to win the King George again and again making it a race that fosters continuing greatness.

Despite this trend, the greatest horse of them all won the race just once from three attempts and it was exactly 40 years ago this week that this race, so laden with history and memories, suffered it's singularly most poignant moment. It was 40 years ago this week that Arkle made his last stand.

Now as last stand's go, Arkle's certainly wasn't nearly as terminal or remotely as painful as General Custer's, and the only people that were scalped at Kempton that day were the punters that backed him down to 2-9. Yet it was still a Little Big Horn moment for racing and nothing would ever be quite the same afterwards.

Why this is the case is deeply embedded in turf mythology. There was his ability to carry huge weights and his humiliation of Mill House, possibly the second best horse that ever lived.

There were his 25 victories in 29 races, his three Gold Cups, his love of Guinness and his kindness to children.

However, his real presence on the cultural landscape of the time is best illustrated in a less remembered honour.

The year in which Arkle made his last stand bang in the middle of the swinging 60s was also the year that England won the World Cup.

TV Times magazine polled their readership on who the personality of the year should be and The Beatles came in third, just behind Bobby Moore in second place. The clear winner was Arkle.

John Lennon had once controversially remarked how great it felt to be part of a band more popular than Jesus Christ. It is unclear how he felt when he heard that despite this, his outfit that were still less popular than a horse.

The race that was to be Arkle's last should was scheduled for St Stephen's Day, but because of frost it was deferred by 24 hours. In those days the conditions of the race meant that he had to concede a stone or more to his opponents, many of whom when judged against normal standards were very good indeed.

The field also included the legendary Foinavon who gained immortality the following year as the luckiest ever winner of the Aintree Grand National. Kempton was unusually packed the day of the 1966 King George. A pioneer of pay-per-view TV had secured the race rights which meant that the many thousands who wished to see Arkle race needed to go to the track.

When the race got under way it was clear to his legions of fans from early on that something was amiss with the great one, something was not quite right. Arkle seemed to be running and jumping flatly, as if he was only just a mortal racehorse. Despite this, by the last fence he was still several lengths clear of Dormant, ridden by Jeff King, a horse he had beaten by the length of the straight in the race a year earlier.

Interviewed last week, King remembered the day well. "All of a sudden, Arkle faltered going to the last. Dormant had a fair turn of foot and he came with a strong run to beat Arkle by a length.

We didn't know anything was wrong with him until later.

The stewards had us in to account for the improvement in form."

There was, indeed, something very wrong with him.

Arkle had broken a pedal bone in his hoof at some point during the race, yet had still almost won the King George.

If he were human his injury could be compared to a broken toe. His jockey, Pat Taaffe, believed he struck the guard rail of a fence early on, which meant that he ran three miles and jumped about 19 fences on sheer gut and gumption.

He could barely walk through the silent crowd to the unsaddling enclosure afterwards and it was two weeks before the most popular personality in Britain could even be moved back to his home in Ireland. He never raced again.

Every couple of years since then there has been a 'new' Arkle, just like every new band from Liverpool are the new Beatles or debutant centre-half at West Ham is the new Bobby Moore. This year it is Kauto Star's turn to wear the vest, and for once there is the distant possibility of some truth in the heresy.

Paul Nicholls six-year-old continues to define his greatness and on Tuesday he faces his biggest test yet in the King George, so the race continues to make rich history.

Forty years after Arkle's heroic last stand, this year's contest could well be remembered as Kauto Star's first.