Well, it looks like the excessive experimentation by Marc Lieveremont has cost the French side and handed them a right royal thrashing at the hands of England. Four tries to nil, 34-5 ... and no sin binnings! All in front of 82,000 Hackett wearing, Pimms swilling, Chariot Singing happy Toffs.
This means England should get third this year now, providing they beat Scotland at Twickers on the final weekend - the thrashing of France gives them a points difference edge over Les Bleus. To be sure, most people will be watching Ireland play Wales in Cardiff, to try and get their Grand Slam win. Hell, I know I would ... if I could afford Sky and find it tucked away on the Rugby Channel.
In the meantime, I have to read the UK press and scour for video clips on Auntie, to watch it. Looked like a cracking winters day, and within minutes England started their (first half) romp, which led to endless punches of the sky and pile ups of unrestrained man love. God, you’d think they’d actually won the World Cup! Again.
Standout player? Looks like that Maori fellow they all said should not don the Red Rose because he is not an Englishman. Today it was Champagne Flutey ... shit, I should write for The Times.
And you’ve gotta love The Times really - I mean, they truly get acknowledge the spirit of this wonderful sport’s multicultural nature ... every time they refer to a black player as ‘dark’.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment