

The 46-year-old six-times champion jockey discusses the BHA's new whip rule, and why another title would be the sweetest of all
The jockey Kieren Fallon
'The actual court case was the fun bit,' says the 46-year-old jockey Kieren Fallon of his trial for race-fixing, which collapsed in 2007, 'but the three-and-a-half-year wait to get there was sheer mental torture.' Photograph: Anna Gowthorpe/PA

Kieren Fallon walks towards the weighing room on a gorgeous autumn afternoon at Ascot with his head down and a phone pressed to his ear. His mouth does not move as, silently, the gaunt little man they still call The Assassin weaves through the crowd. Beautiful women dressed to kill and heavyweight men scanning the odds for the richest event of the year in British Flat-racing, last Saturday's Champions Day, all step aside for Fallon. The six-times champion jockey, a man haunted by his past and the trouble still surrounding him in racing, moves with meaningful intent.

I catch up with him on the edge of a gleaming parade ring. "It's good to see you, Kieren."

"It's not good to see you," Fallon replies. "I fucking hate interviews."

I have been pursuing Fallon for months because, when it comes to brilliant but complicated sportsmen, there are few people I have wanted to meet more. His face looks like it is etched out of chalky‑white stone as he slips his phone into his pocket. Chasing his seventh championship jockey's title, while battling with the British Horseracing Authority over its contentious rulings relating to use of the whip, Fallon allows himself to be steered into a tiny room normally occupied by the handicapper at Ascot.

There is just enough space for a chair and a desk. Fallon keeps standing, and his searing gaze never leaves me. "How long will this take," he asks. "Ten minutes?"

"A little longer …"

"I gave somebody just one sentence and that was enough for him to write a book."

"I'm not as clever as that," I admit. "Is that how it is?" Fallon says, almost smiling.

Standing a foot away from him, I start hesitantly. Does he have any ambivalent feelings about riding one of Richard Hughes's horses at Ascot?

"It's available," he shrugs. "If I didn't take it, somebody else would."

Hughes, as a jockey, reacted to his recent ban for excessive use of his whip by announcing that he would not race again until the BHA changed its draconian new rule. This stipulates that a jockey will be suspended if he uses his whip more than seven times in a race – or more than five times in the final furlong. Fury in the weighing room is palpable and, in Fallon, it finds compelling voice.

"Look," Fallon says of Hughes, "it's wiped out the rest of his season. But we all need to stand up for ourselves. We're being bullied all the time. That's the top and bottom of it. The BHA know that as well."

Fallon pauses, but a torrent is about to be unleashed. "The main guy over here is Jamie Stier [the Australian-born director of racing operations at the BHA]. Why don't you chat to him? He's come over here because they didn't want him there. They don't want him in Hong Kong either. We always end up with the person that nobody else wants and it causes this."

Stier resigned as Hong Kong's chief stipendiary steward in 2009 after six years in the role, citing the need for a fresh challenge, and was praised for his professionalism and dedication by the chief executive of Hong Kong's jockey club. Fallon's disdain for Stier and the BHA is, however, plain.

"Our prize money has gone about a third down. How can they justify putting up fines for jockeys? If we're late in the paddock we get fined. Crazy.

"In Hong Kong the suspensions and fines are for interference. But there's a difference between Hong Kong and here. Our racing is third world, isn't it? During the week it's third world prize money. Pony racing in Ireland is better than racing in the week here."

At the Qipco Champions Day, with so much serious prize-money on offer, and a magnificent horse like Frankel running like a dream, Fallon's withering assessment might sound strange. But in his quest to win another champion jockey's title he clearly sees some of the more humdrum corners of British racing.

"I was at Wolverhampton last night, and winging it round at twenty past nine, and if they'd let me I'd still be winging round there at midnight. Wolverhampton's got a lovely surface even if it's a bit tight at the first turn. You've got cheap horses running for cheap money but I love it. I don't do it for the money. The money's not worth it. But the buzz of winning makes everything worth it."

Fallon's phone was hacked into at least 28 times by the News of the World and allegations of race fixing were lodged against him. His racing licence was suspended – until the case against him was demolished at the Old Bailey in December 2007. The following day he was then suspended for a further 18 months after it was revealed he had tested positive for cocaine. Despite such strife Fallon is consumed by the idea that the whip rule should not impinge on the integrity of this year's champion jockey race.

The winner will be confirmed two weeks on Saturday, with Paul Hanagan, the current champion, on 149 winners. Silvestre De Sousa is on 145 and Fallon on 140. Fallon's recent winners have lessened because, apart from being banned for two days last week, on Saturday night he flew to Canada immediately after Ascot. He raced in Canada on Sunday and came straight back to London so he could ride at Windsor on Monday.

"If the champion jockey race goes all the way it's going to be real exciting. Silvestre's not out of it – even with a four-day suspension. But the whip rule for Silvestre is tough. He likes the whip. I want to beat people fair and square and not because of the whip. If Paul was to get suspended you wouldn't want to win it like that. You have to win on merit. I don't think he will get suspended because he's very conscious of it; but that affects his riding. I've spoken to Paul and it's difficult for him. I'm lucky. I can whistle to my horse and he'll really extend for me."

Fallon makes a low, shrill whistle through his teeth. "Nine out of 10 horses respond to that. They're trying to get away from the whistle. I've been doing it for years, ever since I worked out that horses would run quicker for me if I did that instead of tapping them. They don't feel the tap because they have adrenalin."

As a jockey who races his horses sympathetically, preferring to whistle them into a winning position, Fallon's strident opposition to the whip rule is persuasive. "I don't use my whip much. That doesn't mean I wouldn't hit a horse more than six times – it happens easily. We don't count like these people. We're just concentrating on getting the best out of our horse. You can't be going [Fallon counts slowly] 'one, two, three …' I shut down completely to everything when I'm riding. People say, 'When you won the Derby did you hear the crowd?' I can't hear a thing. I'm locked in my own world. And you expect me to count how many times I hit a horse? It's crazy."

He stresses that the jockeys are open to negotiation. "We don't mind coming down to the seven [as the permitted number of times a whip can be used]. We don't mind using the silly whips either – the air-cushioned ones that just make a pop – a noise. [But] who are the BHA bowing down to? Is it the RSPCA? Do they have the equivalent organisation in Ireland or France or Germany? Obviously they do. So how come the RSPCA in those countries are not getting involved? Why is it only in English racing?"

Such discord means that when Fallon is asked if he expects an early resolution of the crisis, he says: "To be honest with you: No."

He and his fellow jockeys object most to the apparently bullying stance of the BHA. "The shit we have to put up with. All the carry-on. You've got 25 fucking guys in the weighing room sneaking around to see if you're using your phone. They're spending all this money checking we don't use our phones in the weighing room. Changes should be made."

Fallon's racing style means it might suit him if the whip penalty undermined his rivals. "My friends have said: 'Why are you worrying? No one was worrying about you when you were doing your three years. No one phoned you.' And they're right. But I don't like to see other jockeys being bullied."

Did anyone in racing support Fallon during his various court cases? "No. Nobody wanted to know. You can understand why. But even when I was found innocent, which everyone knew I was, the stigma stayed. It's still there, isn't it? There was this feeling you were guilty until proven innocent. I suffered for three and a half years. That's how long it took to get to court. They were trying to invent evidence against me. Everyone in court saw what the police tried to do. Some of the stuff was incredible. The actual court case was the fun bit – watching them get destroyed at the Old Bailey. But the three‑and‑a‑half-year wait to get there was sheer mental torture."

The 46-year-old Irishman is now determined to win his seventh title. "It's bang on. I'm going to chase Paul all the way. I've got three weeks left. Plenty of time. Plenty of meetings. I just have to knuckle down. And if I win it this year lots of people will be disappointed. It will eat away at them. They won't like it."

Would this seventh possible title mean more to Fallon for that very reason? "For sure it would."

Despite continued good will towards him from many ordinary punters, since returning to racing Fallon has not been offered many of the classy horses he would most like to ride. Is this down to his infamy? "That's probably the main reason. A lot of trainers I used to ride quite a bit for don't use me at all now. It has to be for that reason. I know it can't be down to my racing – because my riding sure hasn't got worse. If anything I feel better and I'm doing much more with less ammunition now. I'm lucky to have [the trainer] Luca Cumani supporting me. So it is a lot tougher. But I like it that way. I'm loving it. The tougher it is, the bigger the buzz."

Is there anything the old Assassin can do to change his image? "There's nothing. They can think whatever they want to think about me. They just needed to see me winging round Wolverhampton to see the baggage isn't keeping me back. Neither is the small amount of money on offer. Money has never orientated me. My whole life I've just wanted to win."

Do most jockeys feel this intense passion? "No. There's no passion. In the weighing room, now, the fun is gone. Racing used to be brilliant. There was always a buzz. As one of the boys said to me – it's a job now. For me it's different. I've had a great career – up until I was arrested. Now, you can't enjoy it when sneaks are following you around the weighing room. We don't need it. And now we've all this carry-on – with the whip."

There is a rap on the door. After 45 minutes of standing and straight talking Fallon needs to get ready for the 2.25 at Ascot. He seems reluctant to stop talking and we meet again as soon as he is changed. Then, mischief and humour coursing through him, Fallon persuades me to approach Stier, his current BHA bogeyman. As a delighted Fallon watches me ask a mildly discomforted Stier to discuss the jockey's comments, the Australian apologises and says he can't speak in public. His bosses will release a media statement this week. "What did I tell you?" Fallon says, cackling.

Before he escapes the troublesome world of people for the horses he loves, Fallon gives me a wink.

"The interview wasn't so bad, was it?" I ask. "No," Fallon smiles before, like a ghost, disappearing into the glaring light of the parade ring. "It went OK."