Where’s the barmy army when you need them?

AS an Englishman, watching cricket in Ireland has always been a guilty pleasure, the sort of thing that you feel you should be doing in a dirty raincoat with the collar turned up while reaching for the top shelf magazines.

To be caught in the act by most Irish friends invites derision, a rolling of the eyes, heavy humour about the language of the “gentlemen’s game” and to invite various lectures on imperialism, colonialism and the moral superiority of GAA. But it seems the Irish, as of 5pm yesterday, are all cricket supporters now.

A game regarded as a quaint relic of empire (actually one of the best supported and, certainly in the sub-continent, richest sports in the world) suddenly provided the nation with the kind of morale-boosting lift that only sporting success against the odds can deliver.