Well, we've just returned from a sojourn to the brother's house to watch the rugby. Trés depressing. I suppose if we get whupped by the English we'll have to demolish Croker and build a temple on the spot. It'll be the only way to mollify the Citizen's wrathful ghost as his mortal remains corkscrew towards the Earth's core.
The only bright spot was the sister joining us from Stateside for the match, via Skype and an isight strategically pointed at the TV. Not too grainy apparently, and far more pleasant at 10:00am on a Sunday than a cross-town trip to watch the match on Setanta.
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