Lom and I could have guessed that it was going to be a bad day quite early on Saturday morning. After finding on Friday that our hotel was in an ideal spot, surrounded by palm trees and with a cloudless sky, the news of the weather problems that caused Monkey1, Peter, Bubble and Squeak to miss the game was followed literally within seconds by a pigeon deciding to unload itself all over Lom’s pristine white Falcons shirt. The early clear skies were superceded by some rare clouds by match time, but it was still more than pleasant to watch the match (and walk around town) in shirt sleeves. And then get arrested for only wearing shirt sleeves.

The general opinion of the locals was that they were delighted to see so many of us having made the trip out, but it would be fair to say that they were certain that they were going to get the result. As is so often the case with Falcons away now, there was only one story in town; the arrival of one J.Wilkinson. The local papers, the Midi Libre and L’Independant, spoke of an “anti-Jonny plan, but the USAP captain Bernard Goutta was having none of it, rightly pointing out that there were so many threats. All 15 Falcons were going to have to be at the top of their games though to get something from the afternoon, and like it or not, our fly-half was going to be central to its success or failure.

The game? Well, for 40 minutes it was like imagining the scenes celebrated rightly and frequently around this beautiful town, of the resistance put up in 1944 by the Catalans to reclaim what was theirs from their oppressors. The black-shirted resistance of 2005 was admirable; if someone had offered me nine-all at the interval just before kick off, I would now be in possession of one ripped off arm. Every time USAP got a kickable penalty, they transgressed shortly afterwards, to give JW his chance. Matt Tait and Tom May both made breaks that threatened the line; both times the penalty was conceded to ensure a maximum of three conceded rather than seven. Indeed, when our third score went between the posts, the 9-6 lead provided a fillip to all, and brief hopes of an unlikely glory. Crucially though, referee Williams decided that he had to penalise us one more time before the break, and Edmonds levelled it up with the last kick of the half.

The noisy Falcons support (yes Mally, I know you couldn’t hear us on the telly, but we were there and making noise, I promise) had been given much cause for optimism in the first half, with only one main blow; the loss of Jamie Noon to a clash of heads on the half hour. With other crucial players already missing, the last thing that was needed was a lengthening injury list. Little did we know just how bad the second half was to get.

The fabled home support was, at this point, no noisier than you’d get at say Gloucester or Northampton. Whether it was apprehension, knowing that defeat would mean elimination, or fear of a Falcons back line that was having, in my opinion, the better of their opponents to this point, it’s hard to say. What was true was that the longer the score remained level, the better, as that would increase the relative hush.

Or at least that was the theory. It took two minutes for things to change. From what appeared to Geordie eyes as a knock on missed on the other side of the field, USAP switched the ball to go through their forwards, and Rimas Alvarez-Kairelis swatted away Tom May to score the first try. Seven minutes later, the impressive prop Nicolas Mas scored the second try after a maul rumbled forwards. Both conversions were missed.

USAP had finally bared their teeth, with everything now going through the forwards, who were starting to play like the mythical monsters many, including Barnes and Morris on the Rugby Club and Stephen Jones of the Sunday Times in a pre-match chat, had built them up to be. It was at this point as well that we got a sense that Falcons were not just being beaten up front, but were being beaten up. Micky Ward had already got a badly cut ear, but Tait was now the victim of an off the ball elbow in the face that floored him right in front of both referee and touch judge (decision - USAP lineout); May and scrum half Durand exchanged blows for about thirty seconds whilst a ruck developed virtually on top of them; and later May and Luger became involved when chasing a kick through. There were further allegations of dirty tricks later from those supporters who spoke to the players. Hot indeed.

As the temperature got turned up, so did the volume, and Jonny’s fourth successful penalty to peg the score back to 19-12 was greeted with the kind of la bronca that really made you aware that this was Falcons versus the whole Catalan nation.

The next score would be crucial, and it came through those forwards (and those lovely officials) again. A crosskick was fielded by Stevo before he was knocked back over his own line. A mark? With the touch judge just a couple of yards away, you’d think so - but you’d be wrong. The five metre scrum was reset on three separate occasions before Williams was eventually happy, and with Goutta breaking off the back to switch the ball across the field, Luger appeared to knock on (either that or the ball magically rolled itself towards our tryline after he grounded it).

No whistle.

The ball was recycled again, to find Alvarez-Kairelis on a crash ball, and he grounded the ball short of the line, then rolled the ball over.

Whistle. Try. Yes, the USAP forwards were now totally dominant, but Nigel Williams and his touch judges were not winning any friends in the away support. Edmonds kicked the extras for a 26-12 lead, and our only hopes now were either scrambling our own bonus point, and denying them one.

Realistically though, option 1 disappeared with Jonny’s injury. Realising his team’s situation, he tried to move back to his position, but one step was enough to convince him that his left knee had betrayed him. The raucous booing now changed to an appreciative ovation; in these parts, they love good rugby and purveyors of its excellence, and they rightly recognised one of the game’s greater contributors. With Andy Buist suffering an anterior cruciate injury just minutes later, it leaves Sunday’s squad looking somewhat bare.

The only question now was could the fourth try be prevented? Alas, no, but it took until the 85^th minute for it to come, when yet another mighty rumble (and looking back at the video, this one was really impressive), as replacement prop Jan-Gideon van der Heever found himself with the ball in his hand as he crossed the line. As gutting as conceding the fourth try was, the conversion from Giannantonio had to go over, as my pure guess of a prediction was 33-12. Small (no) consolation.

Possibly the only sour point of the afternoon was when the Falcons team waited at the tunnel to applaud their conquerors off the field, only for the USAP team to effectively showboat in front of their supporters. There would have been nothing wrong with doing that after the niceties, but after waiting for three or four minutes, the Falcons headed for the changing room whilst the party continued. If I were a Falcon, I’d store that image for Sunday, and remember it over every yard made - the USAP players obviously believe that they can, and will, win the group. It’s up to every Falcons player to make sure that this optimism is a false one.

Whilst walking round the ground afterwards, the USAP supporters were as gracious as they were passionate (as, indeed, they were all weekend), whilst a quick chat with Dick Best merely affirmed that the outcome was not a great surprise, and the walk back into town saw Falcons supporters in every bar. One very pleasurable meal later, in the same restaurant as the USAP players, and the day came to an end.

Nearly.

At 4.45 in the morning, the hotel fire alarm went off. When we got downstairs, the door was locked. In a full hotel, only six people made their way down the stairs, such was the Catalan feeling of “no worries”.

The general opinion in the French papers was one of mission accomplished for USAP; the bonus point has given them the chance to win the group at Murrayfield on Sunday, although there are worries over the fitness of Manny Edmonds for the game. There was much sympathy for Wilkinson’s plight, although one of the papers made the point that this would make the French national team’s job considerably easier when it came to the Six Nations game next month. Whilst all acknowledge Noon and Buist’s injuries, once again one man dominated the stories.

Can anyone on that Monday afternoon flight explain to me why we had Avid Merrion as the steward? Thank you please for the entertainment, you were as funny as the man himself.

Not very then.