When Steve Rider and the rest of the Grandstand boys come to Dublin on international rugby weekends, you know that they have packed their little book of Celtic cliches right alongside the Brylcreem.
From noon on Saturday, the old Irish virtues of passion, spirit, fire and brimstone were inevitably acclaimed from the studio while Gavin Hastings and Jonathan Davies smiled on politely, having heard it all before. Their sweet expressions suggested they were imagining a vintage South African horror show at the Paddies' expense. The presenter may have been suggesting the same but with old Rider, you simply don't know. Eddie Butler, though, took it one step further. Never one to shy away from the trite analogy on the grounds that it might be a little condescending, Eddie set about portraying the Irish as "the headbangers of the international game."
Eager to sketch a balanced tableau of the Irish psyche, he pointed out that our style of playing the oval game did not amount to mere "lunacy." No, we could guarantee generous dollops of spirit, fire and passion as well.
Then came the boozing myths. In rugby circles, there must be a perception worldwide that the only reason anyone sets foot in the Irish capital is to get utterly soused and, keen to pay tribute to Dublin's celebrated reputation, Springboks coach Nick Mallet quickly launched into a hazy recollection of a lost weekend in the city pubs during a Five Nations weekend against France.
Perhaps next week we will find him elucidating on his karaoke days in Stringfellows or the all-nighters at Browns in the build-up to the England game, but it's unlikely.
Once the Guinness and passion preliminaries were out of the way, everybody turned their minds to the actual game. Steve Rider gleefully pressed Paul Wallace on the likelihood of a reprisal of the scatter which erupted in Bloemfontein last summer while the Ireland forward shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
The same question was put to Keith Wood. There seemed to be an underlying belief that the Irish would be only too glad if Elwood's kick-off was followed by a lengthy and decisive faction fight, after which everyone could repair to the pubs for barrelfuls of Guinness and a bit of headbanging.
Didn't happen. Sure, several citizens around the country probably bashed their skulls against the fireplace when Eric fluffed a few early penalties and when Andy Ward dropped a crucial assist early on, but overall, things looked happy.
No score after 10 minutes of a first half during which we spent a refreshing amount of time in the opposing half.
"We should be actually be more points up," offered Paul Wallace optimistically at the break, ignoring the fact that we were one down.
And that was as good as it got. In seven minutes which were both gloomy and dazzling to watch, the Afrikaners razed us for 17 points, summed up by a van der Westhuizen try which must have left the purists gasping (except for Tony Ward, who declared that Honiball's one-handed assist pass looked forward).
But we recovered and as usual, made our obligatory half hour stand on the threshold of the opponents' line, with a sustained pressure period raising hopes and blood pressure across the country before we eventually succumbed to that old demon, the knock-on.
Predictably, all concerned noted that the Irish had salvaged pride while losing the game and attention switched to Twickenham, where England fell to a late John Eales penalty in their game against Australia.
With England hosting South Africa this weekend, Jim Rosenthal (who simply hasn't got the "Rugby Union" look) thrust them forward as the great white hopes of the northern hemisphere. The bad old days in Brisbane were cast aside. Ian McGeehan declared that the difference between the standard of rugby played in either hemisphere was negligible. Tony Underwood felt certain England could win. Whatever happens, it should be fun.
Elsewhere, the winter season ticked on smoothly. Duncan Ferguson took his skills to Newcastle.
"It's a showbusiness signing," announced Eamon Dunphy on The Premiership before breaking the news that Shearer would be leaving the Tyneside club. "Gullit is all shapes and Shearer's not a shaper. Shearer knows it's dancing time at Newcastle," he explained.
Bill O'Herlihy did point out that big Duncan had banged a few goals for his new club on his debut but Eamon was having none of it.
Across channel, Match of the Day were showing more or less the same highlights as the Irish show, albeit in different order. With mixed reports about the initial appeal of the Irish programme still circulating, the contrast between the styles of presentation was noteworthy.
On the Beeb, highlights from, well, the highlights already shown, were pared down into neat little sequences to which the analysts offered a comment. On Saturday, Mark Lawrenson somewhat boldly declared that West Ham's Steve Lomas was "all things to all people" while we watched footage which suggested he might be all things to Harry Redknapp at least. On Network 2, the analysts tended to get scribble happy as they analysed the mechanics behind a particular passage of play, often freezing the picture. While informative, it kind of made you feel like you were back in national school and Gilesy and Eamo both looked as though they'd make busy use of the old belt. .
Earlier in the week Manchester United put on a clinic for its fans in the Nou Camp stadium in Barcelona. The lads at ITV were beside themselves as a goal festival suddenly sparked up.
"This is one of the biggest games the world could ever have," said Big Ron at one stage. In this age of incessant hype, it's nice to get a sense of context.
