In the name of the rose

When it comes to rugby (union), England are as welcome guests as Tsar Peter I (the Great) in the house of diarist John Evelyn. Having beaten the Aussies in their own Sydney backyard to win the final four years ago, the lads have now "shattered the dream of a nation" by sticking it to the French hosts in Paris. The English Rose has risen to the final against all expectations. They have proved themselves the antithesis of New Zealand, by being rubbish in the intervening period between the world cups, but coming good once the world cup is properly underway (after a two match warm-up you see). Fair dos, the French were courteous in defeat, far more than the whingeing Wallabies ever were. Possibly it is because the French are quite pessimistic in outlook, part of the malaise all commentators talk about, but it is honourable to be humble (after being humbled).