The most important day of the year.

The most important day of the year. This Saturday. Wales versus England. Good versus Evil. The Last Alliance battling in Mordor.

I do this every year, get a foreboding of DOOM in my chest, wail and gnash my teeth about ten days beforehand. Convince myself we are going to get destroyed, humilificated, beaten by 240,000,000 to zero. And frankly, that's what normally happens in Mordor.

Then, about two days beforehand, the drugs kick in, and I convince myself we can win, when there's no earthly basis in fact for this. Gatland has essentially said that Balshaw is shite, which he is. Ashton has gone mad, and thinks that Wales are playing with 13 men.

If we win, I will not stop smiling for weeks, literally (well, until we lose to the Irish, again). If we lose, I'm going to do what the Mad Doctor did last August, and surrender myself to the beer, and have to be taken home at a quarter to seven in the evening.