WITHOUT wishing to be rude – damn it, let’s be rude – last weekend’s Exeter-Newcastle game was a joke. 74-3? Please.
There would have been more tension in a grassgrowing contest. Pampas versus Slender Creeping Red? Unmissable, comparatively speaking.
Far better was the Premier 15s final, a London derby between Harlequins and Saracens that was nothing short of captivating, not just by the standards of women’s rugby but also in relation to pretty much anything that happened last weekend, anywhere in the Union game.
Time for a confession: during his Fleet Street days, your columnist was lamen...