Sodding bloody half term rant

I just had to get that off my chest and have expended all my energies.

I have just time before tottering off to bed to note that the Pumas dined out on roast chook tonight. Congratulations on a splendid showing by the South American contingent and on a splendidly well hosted tournament. It is, in a way, a shame that you had to depart in this manner but as you yourselves would say C'est la guerre!

The time will come for me to reflect on tomorrow night's events; which might lead to a sorrowful acknowledgement that the Webb Ellis trophy is in Boer hands or might result in other than wry observations on the nature of English histrionics and unfettered jingoism (duly amplified by the atrocious performance of the round ball hooligan sporting fringe mid-week).

I was also intending to provide a piece in my own style reflecting on market economics, cartel, price fixing and access to the innermost thoughts of the average British alcopop consumer. You'll have to wait for that gem, I'm afraid.