Brian Moore and Eddie Butler spent more time discussing his interpretation of the breakdown than great passes, pick-ups or deadly side-steps, writes RISTEARD COOPER

WELL IRELAND may not be winning by much but they’re not losing by much either and if we were to take Father Declan’s positive advice after the match last Sunday we should all have gone out and had a “good night” which, as we all know by now, is Fianna Fáil dialect for “let’s just forget about the mess we’re in and get hammered”.

And although Fianna Fáil’s squad has been severely culled to such an alarming level that it amounts to less than a match-day 22, at least their prospects don’t seem quite as grim as Scotland’s. Although if Ireland had a frontrow of B Cowen, B Lenihan and B Smith they’d have a deadlier set of killer bees and at least we’d have a better chance of getting some penalties out of the opposition.

Cowen would surely negotiate with the referee by saying, “Our position in this scrum is clear, cohesive and transparent, and furthermore, there is categorically no binding of an illegal nature by me or any of my colleagues.

“That is our position and it remains our position unitl such a time as we deem it appropriate to change that position for the good of Ireland.”

However, on the basis of his performance in the middle, Nigel Owens would be hard pressed to stake a claim as an impartial Ceann Cómhairle. It must have been a strange night in Edinburgh, the Ireland players surely expecting Mr Owens could appear anytime, anywhere to punish their behaviour. Perhaps as the barman at the post-match dinner: “Penalty against you, I told you to move away from the bar and you’re not doing it.”

From a spectator’s point of view it’s difficult to pin-point the positives in this match, but any sport that appears to have 10 times as many rules as scoring opportunities, is not in a good place.

However, apart from players not being released in the tackle, side entry at the ruck, lying on the wrong side, slowing down the ball, playing the ball on the ground, not binding properly, standing offside, not retreating behind the kicker, not releasing, the crooked throw-ins, the crooked feeds, the referee not spotting forward passes, then awarding forward passes when they weren’t AND THE GOD DAMN EFFING SCRUM . . . eh . . . it wasn’t too bad.

It’s no surprise England are recruiting so many rugby league players, because that’s essentially what we were watching last weekend, except with more penalties and more mistakes.

The match England had billed as Le Crunch, the Championship “decider” with France was about as free flowing as the Philip Walton impressions at Brian Cowen’s house last week.

BBC have clearly decided on the Sky Sports tactic of building up every sports fixture they cover, where every moment is “just extraordinary” or “quite remarkable” or “maybe not a classic, but one heck of a contest”.

At least on RTÉ you can rely on the temperate restraint of you-know-who to blurt out something like “This is just appalling! The worst match ever seen in the history of sport, ever!”

However, it speaks volumes for the current entertainment value in the international game that the star of the England-France match, according to Brian Moore, was neither English or French, but a lad from Limerick, with a small frame and a loud whistle name o’ George Clancy, not to be confused with George Clooney. You’d have to really squint admittedly, but it could happen, especially if you’re bored.

It was telling that Moore and Eddie Butler spent most of their time discussing his interpretation of the breakdown rather than a player’s beautifully weighted pass, deft pick-up or deadly side-step.

After match comments suggested Marc Lievremont was none too impressed with our George, though, implying he didn’t understand the intricacies of the scrum or the breakdown.

And you do?

It has to be said, Clancy has the jerky, defiant gestures of a school teacher who knows his pupils slag him behind his back and gets his revenge where it matters most, in the class room with the rule book.

He’s one of those refs that remind you what players in the amateur era looked like, when he puffs out his chest his backside seems to drop, but like all proud Munsterman, he also knows to rise above that sort of criticism from the French coach, especially coming from a man who picks Sebastien Chabal at number eight ahead of Imanol Harinordoquy.

Pheww!! Idiot!! As the French themselves might put it.

Italy are apparently kicking themselves after losing another match they could’ve won. Might I suggest they practice kicking the ball instead of themselves and they might actually manage to do so.

I’m told reliably by lady friends Mirco Bergamasco shouldn’t be blamed for anything because he looks like a sculpture of a Roman God. “Yeah, maybe,” I reply, “but he also kicks like one?” Not a very good retort, I know, but it was the best I could come up with under pressure.

Of course kicking styles vary from player to player. Wilkinson’s sitting-on-the-loo technique while blowing out of the side of his mouth has worked a treat, Paterson’s arm-up-in-the-air-around-the-corner approach has its merits, Sexton has his lavatory method too, O’Gara nods the head, stares at the ball and has a few words with it, like the Cork nut he is, and, of course, Stephen Jones addresses the ball with a running style that suggests he’s trying to get out of his jersey. That’s Jones the outhalf as opposed to the writer, who presumably would like to be in the jersey with him.

The highlight of last weekend? It has to be when Chris Ashton did his full throttle pointy-fingered divey-thing, only to be told by a Limerick man he did it for nothing. Clancy uttered with his mouth, “It was forward,” but said with his eyes, “You clown.”

Go on Munster!!! Well they don’t have much else to shout about these days!!