By Gregory P
December 6 2015

It has been a most trying week here in SW18:  first that poor mite Georgie Osborne had to back down on tax credits; then some ghastly colonial was appointed to run the England rugger team; and to top it off, Peter Andre got kicked off Strictly.  I was left with no choice but to call my "Mindfulness and Wellbeing Counseller".  What do you mean, you don't have one?  They are 2015's must have accessory, and mine's a bluff chap from Twickers, Dr Leonard. 

His advice was a swift as a yellow card from Wayne Barnes in a Quins v Leicester match and as decisive as JP Doyle's handling of the front row at scrum time [Ed: you are joking mate?].  He was at work in his laboratory when I called – I could hear the clink of research test tubes and glassware in the background.  "Wot u need mate is either a couplah gallons of lager inside yer, or an afternoon's top notch kip in some quiet, green open space."  He hung up abruptly saying he had to go on "another round" – the devotion of this man to his duties is touching.  I wasn't familiar with the term "top notch kip" so I consulted my treasured copy of Tufnell's Dictionary of Mockney Bollocks – available in Poundland and other discount book shops – and the penny dropped.  Where better to get a couple of hours peace and quiet in south west London, knowing that I wouldn't be disturbed, than in the middle of the green oasis otherwise known as the pitch at the Stoop at 3pm on a Saturday?  Bugger all has happened there for years.  So, off I set for my peace and quiet……only to find the place crawling with chaps in tasteful Farrow & Ball coloured shirts and some frightful coves in lurid green apparently calling themselves "Boston Irish". [Ed: thank God for that, you did actually get to the game then.  Now get on with the report will you?]  

DOK, point taken but I just couldn't get over the shock of turning up to watch rugby on a Saturday at 3pm.  You go to the trouble of building your life around Thursday evenings and some git [Ed: that's the head of BT sport then] moves the goal posts again.  As it happened I saw a cracking game, with a genuine full house and a buzz about the place.  God forbid, it may even catch on [Ed of BT Sport: not while I'm writing the cheques mate].

Quins beat, and nearly demolished, Irish 38-7 in a thoroughly enjoyable London derby with a result and performances that conformed to our respective league positions. It left Irish looking worriedly at the Exit signs, wondering if you need a passport to play in Jersey,  and Quins wondering how far they can go this season.  Answer: we may not know until we play Sarries.  But for a few careless minutes (or, dodgy reffing decisions – please delete according to the strength of your magenta tinged glasses) at the end of the away games at Leicester and Exeter we'd be unbeaten.  We do like a World Cup year don't we?

Initially I had a sense of déjà vu about the first half.  There was quite a bit of side to side but not much go forward and it felt like I was watching the Sale game again.  As it happened Quins were playing into what the Irish call a real "hoolie" and in fact were doing pretty well at pitch level in the face of Desmond.  The Quins backs in particular were ambitious on a diet of good quality first phase and recycled ball.  We howled in outrage as Care was blocked by Ojo, but the first points were not long in coming.  From a ruck offence following a Twomey charge we gained no advantage and Nev had a “gimme” in front of the posts for 3-0 at 7 minutes.  That was Twomey’s last action as he went off soon after, which was a shame as he started like a train.   Brownie and Narraway exchanged phone numbers as Quins defended some brief LI pressure. 

Quins then had an extended period of ball and some ambitious moves were being called in the backs.  Nev was in full “conman doing the three card trick” mood and lots of choreographed moves on show.  A combination of the wind and Quins inaccuracy – Danny and Nev took it in turns to hit kicks out on the full – kept us away from LI’s red zone but without us being threatened.  The game sparked to life at about half an hour in – Quins won a turnover pretty much on the centre spot.  Ward and Wallace (gentlemen burglars of this Parish) feasted on turnovers like it was a patisserie out there. Care sped right, Nev asked the cover to “pick a card, any card” and Chis (on for Skippy) in a bit of space hit the gas.  The Irish cover just got to him and dragged him – oh at least one square millimetre of his foot – into touch.  It went upstairs and despite not being able to see conclusively that Chis was in touch, the TMO said no. 

Quins stayed in the LI half and from an overthrown LI line out Wardy gobbled up the loose ball and set off on the charge.  I’m running out of superlatives for the pocket rocket but he had another great game.  Robshaw bulldozed it onwards and the forwards then indulged in a bit of white line-it is.  The attack should have produced points but it ended with an accidental offside.  With the Chis “maybe” and this wasted time in the red zone it felt like we were leaving points out there.  

The dam burst not long after when from a poor clearance kick – caused by Quins scrum pressure – we ran it back at LI.  On the 22 Nev got quick recycled ball and this time the choreography was Royal Ballet rather than Dad dancing and Visser muscled in at speed on a good line.  It was under the posts, “gimme” number 2 for Nev, and 10-0 at 34 minutes.  The remainder of the half continued at the same pace with Quins really looking to run it.  Visser made blistering yards in his own half from a standing start and Horwill couldn’t quite capitalise on some space on the east stand side.  Ojo was subject to a steward’s enquiry for a possible deliberate knock on.  Sensibly it came to nothing but Quins rolled two successive line outs to the south east corner amid a rising roar of anticipation.  The delivery was not quite there, and the half ended with a pile up on LI’s try line and the boys in white defending heroically and maybe thinking that they were not out of it yet.

The start to the second half was curious – LI picked up a quick penalty for not releasing and it was hit to the south east corner and booming into touch.  Nev pirouetted in mid-air to ping it safely out over the dead ball line.  Cue another steward’s enquiry – which at least allowed the latecomers to get back from their half time visit to the loo without missing much – and a 22 drop to Quins.  Nev sent it on the back of the wind some way to Whitton and LI didn’t get near our line again until we’d got round to “Any other business, gentlemen?”

Following a scrum penalty  - and the penalty count felt pretty one sided to me – on 43 minutes Care got quick break down ball and scythed left.  Lowe ran a great line and from a half tackle slipped a back of the hand off load to Chis – it was worth the admission money on its own: blink and you miss it.  Chis timed the inside pass perfectly and Danny Care sprinted in.  That ‘tache makes him look like he’s auditioning for Bugsy Malone but he looked back to his best yesterday; more zip than a punk’s wardrobe.  Eddie, were you watching?  Let’s hope he’d got out of the sponsor’s box following half time to see that.  Nev then put over a cracking conversion from wide out in the gusty wind and on his wrong side.  He was on fire.  So, 48 minutes and 17-0 it was.

At this point Irish shuffled their hand and brought on several Toms – with Mr Cruse getting the inevitable Mission Impossible gag.    It wasn’t impossible at that point but LI stuffed up the restart, Quins demolished the scrum and Nev put the ball straight back into their 22.  It was starting to feel impossible.  Quins pack deserve a big shout – they really did demolish the Irish set scrum.  The outcome was the same as a well know terrorist group meeting a UNESCO site: only one winner there. 

And Quins continued to pressure LI: a Sloan burst off first phase (good game for him, particularly given who’s looking over his shoulder now) led to another Danny dart.   Visser and Brownie combined on the east side.  Another mullered scrum led to Nev popping it into the corner.  From the rolling maul Visser off his wing took the cut back line – it’s the oldest move in the play book, there are cave paintings of it – but he barrelled through and this time the TMO said yes.  Nev continued in “dare me to miss mode” and 24-0 glowed the board with a quarter still to play.

LI began to realise that they were on the verge of serious shellacking and begin to put their backs into.  Tikoirotuma made more hard yards in 10 seconds than he made in a season for Quins, and Blair Cowan tipped Brownie over to let us know that there was still a bit of dog left in it.  It was telling off for Cowan and a penalty rather than yellow.  Nev put the penalty back into the red zone and the pressure gauge rose again, with a series of line out drives, darts and cover stretching backs moves.  Nev floated a great cut out pass to Visser – he knows where the space is – and he was just edged into touch as he grounded it. It took another referral to the TMO – maybe Luke Pearce was on some sort of commission?  The process was repeated almost immediately – with some great handling at speed leading up to it - with George Lowe giving the long pass.  Visser this time cut in and rough-housed through two defenders to touch down and no need for the TMO.  It was all happening: a Visser hat trick, a bonus point and Nev adding the olive to the martini.  Cheers, mate! Nine minutes to go and 31-0 with a rowdy crowd feeling that we could add to it.

The corn safely in the silo, Farmer O’Shea emptied the bench.   It made not much difference as LI went side to side  and Quins went straight up and down, this time Botica, Robshaw and Lowe slashing through.  Yet again a quick cut out pass from recycled ball found the winger – this time he newly be-quiffed Rob Buchanan (he’s not a bad looking lad now he’s dropped the Daddy of E-Wing, Strangeways haircut) was on the end of the pass.  He couldn’t quit burrow under the cover. The continued pressure led to a deliberate knock on and an early Gatorade for one of the LI pack: you were well out of it mate. From the line out to the corner Quins got their rolling maul right and trucked it over effortlessly – we could have hung an “Eddie Stobart” tarpaulin on the side of the maul, it was that slick.  Cifford got the credit – it was probably is first meaningful touch of the ball too.  Bot had borrowed Nev’s boots and nailed the two points to make it 38-0 and, as I said earlier, we were down to AOB.

In fairness to Irish, and God knows they need to take something from the game, their replacement front row looked a right handful in the loose.  The net result was a deserved five pointer for the Tongan prop Aulika – he looks a prospect.  The stands were emptying before the conversion went over and at 38-7 it was time for me to tell Dr Leonard that all was well with the world again.

As to Irish, I really like them and their fans.  They contribute massively to grass roots rugby in London and they've unearthed some staggering talent only to see it walk out of the door.  The guys at ground level are doing a great job but their failure to put significant silverware in the trophy cabinet is doing them no favours in retaining talent.  LI have an emptier trophy room than Accrington Stanley and are making the other London clubs look like Real Madrid in comparison.  I feel for their fans – they've stood by them in the transfer of first team footy to Reading and always add greatly to the craic/atmosphere when we play them.  Incidentally, Tufnell's Dictionary of Mockney Bollocks describes "craic" as: lottsa Micks gettin' quietly lagered up in convivial surroundings with most of them becoming yer best China by the end of the night.  Yesterday was the quietest I ever known them with not one "Fields of Athenry" to be heard, which is a real loss.  LI's predicament can be summed up by a neat bit of algebra, which I've taken from "Sir Clive Woodward's bumper book of management bullsh1te badly applied to Sport":

βqUαd - αrmitage²-¥oseph - ©orbisiero ±B00^th  = 0 points

It's got to the stage where the home dressing room at Reading has "Departure Lounge" written on it and the away dressing room has "Coming your way soon" fly posted on it.  Maybe they've had a tough start to the season but they really need to start picking up some points, in particular at home.  There's no shortage of talent there but at present the sum isn't equalling the parts.  If they stay rooted to the foot of the table then the vultures will start circling over guys like Alex Lewington and the export of talent will continue.   Kiwi coaches are – rightly – getting a great press at the moment.  If Tom Coventry can turn the season around for Irish then he will seriously add to that reputation, and probably not have to buy another pint of the black stuff in his life, but from where I’m looking, it’s a long, long way up.