OK, it was a bad day.  English rugby is not in need of revival but of resurrection. As the present Mrs T is a Gael to the top of her 4 foot 9 inch frame, it took her less than three seconds to phone her father-in-law to gloat at the end of today's debacle. He, however, was convinced that the usual Scottish behaviour had spoiled the day -- turning up late, underpreparing the pitch etc. Tactics worthy of the Welsh on a good day.  As for me?  I was watching the mighty Gloucester beat London Irish. So it wasn't all bad. Still, leaves me with the Englishman's worst nightmare: having to support the French next week as the only hope of stopping the whining Welsh from winning the Grand Slam.  One might say that, in that match, it's a shame they can't both lose.

As to Mr Duncan, thou son of encouragement -- I know where you live.