One rule for rugby’s elite, another for the paupers

Outrage fits us like a spring jacket and is as easily slipped on as off.

How noisily we harrumphed last week when the Premier League chairman let slip a lifetime of suppressed annoyance that the reins of football were tugged from England’s grasp. Remember how we huffed until old interests gave the cricketers we’d just discovered a shot at the 2015 World Cup.

And then, with nary a trace of irony in our bearing, we settle as usual into the luxurious comforts of the cosiest cartel of all; the Six Nations Championship.