I was on the ferry to Dublin as the match was being played and it was shown live on the big telly near the back of what my ma still refers to as "The Tin Foil" (real name is Hydrofoil). All the Irish lads, including meself, were crowded around the big telly cheering and hollering and generally enjoying the match, while the English lads were scattered to the peripheral small-screen TVs and were doing as much as possible to fade into the background.
Just a pity the Scots didn't trash the French later that evening as I was enjoying a meal out with my family in Wicklow. All the males present, and one or two of the femailes, had at least one eye on the Scotland/France match throughout the meal, which didn;t help much with the general conversation!
This was not the sport of choice around our way, if a foot six monster wanted a funny shaped ball that badly i would just say have the bloody thing, unfortunately having welsh sports teachers this didn`t go down too well.
But ! this reminded me of one of our local landlords who retired at 60+ and got a job at the local hospital as a porter, one night Jonah Lumo was at some local rugby do and had stomach pains and was rushed to A & E, after initial checks the guy i know was told to push him to a ward in a wheel chair.
Not F%$£&g likely was the reply, apparently it took three of them to push him with the two on either side giving directions to the poor sod at the back trying to steer the thing blind :p