I have never really been a fan of either Rugby or Football. It’s mainly a physical thing. I associate both sports with pain.

When I was a child being forced to wear short pants to school, break time was fraught with danger. Footballs would suddenly appear out of nowhere and smash agonisingly into cold bare flesh. You could always tell who had been “footballed” by the nasty red welts glowing angrily on pasty white legs.

The very first time I ever played Rugby I broke my arm in 2 places. It is the games teacher’s fault. He explained the rules in too simple a manner.

“When you get the ball,” he said, nicely wrapped up in his warm tracksuit and scarf whilst we were freezing in our shirt and shorts. “Run like mad for the other end of the field and don’t let anyone stop you.”

This sounded easy. Even I could do that! So as soon as I caught the first ball that was passed to me I did as instructed. I started sprinting for the opposite end of the field. The only thing standing between me and scoring my first ever try, in my first ever game, was a kid called Tanner. Built like a tank and already possessing of the thirst for violence that people who grow up to become Rugby players obviously relish, Tanner lunged for me. I tried to dart around him – but he effortlessly lifted me off the ground and smashed me down into the floor and took the ball away from me.

The plaster of Paris had to stay on for six weeks. This immediate holiday after my first introduction to the sport gave me plenty of time to develop a dislike for the game that I have never over come.

I also dislike the whole multi-million pound business empire ego trip that Football has turned into and its resulting mega stars, WAGery and high profile arrests after binge drinking all nighters. At least Rugby is a little more refined and not the constant red top fodder that Football has become.

So I went to see Scotland versus Ireland at Murrayfield (it was corporate hospitality rather than a renaissance). Not having been a fan of Rugby I have no real benchmark upon which to judge the quality of the match. My companions assured me that this was a really crap match. I agree especially as at one point I thought I was watching a game of ping-pong ball given the amount of tedious kicking backwards and forwards there had been.

The saving grace was that on the occasions that Scotland scored they played music and the crowd sang along – “I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MILES AND I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MORE!” This was very funny, especially as Ireland was not given the same courtesy.