This decade has seen an interesting turn of events in Irish rugby. I’m not talking about how Irish teams at international and club level have really become elite, more about how rugby is suddenly a glorified sport here.

Rugby players: neither fat not dirty, apparently

This is especially true with the female species, who after a period of attraction to “metrosexual” men in the 90s returned to going weak at the knees for rough and tumble rugby heads.

Problem is, the objects of their affection are about as far removed from the reality of the sport as humanly possible.

While Brian O’Driscoll and Luke Fitzgerald are handsome Adonises with tight, clean jerseys to display their proud abs, the reality of Irish rugger is quite different. I played rugby and I can honestly say there was nothing glorious about it.

Not one of us was what you would call healthy, and our pitch was on a slant. This meant I was considerably more fatigued in the first half, and our out-half’s kicking range went up significantly in the second.

The old rugby attitude is that men are men and hamstrings are strings you use to tie up pigs. Nowadays, a strong gust will keep a 16 stone man out for a few weeks. Want rough and tumble? Try Mayfield versus Brian Dillon’s hurling games. This may be the plot for Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3.