Fergus Finlay: Little bit of heaven in West Cork as Irish rugby flows and Boris goes

Looking down on Dunlough bay and Mizen head on a beautiful sunny afternoon in West Cork. Picture: Eddie O'Hare

God is in his heaven, and all’s right with the world. I know it’s not appropriate for a humanist like me to be quoting Robert Browning’s little hymn to nature, but right now there may be nothing else that quite sums it up.

For three reasons. We beat the All Blacks, in Dunedin of all places, a city where foreign rugby players fear to go. Boris is gone — not folding his tent and slipping away, but thrown out by his own, who finally summoned up enough gumption to figure out what a disgrace he is.