By Hook or crook, Father Deccie spreads good word

IF YOU ASK ME: Saturday's win has made anything seem possible – world peace, economic stability or Conor O'Shea getting to finish a sentence, writes RISTEARD COOPER

A MESSAGE to all arrogant Aussies from the people of Ireland – go and shove your barbies and your tinnys up your outback and best of luck against Bakkies Botha and his pals in the quarters. Or using your native Aussie tongue – Bruces, you’re a bunch of ding-bats so don’t come the peeled prawn with us mate ’cause you don’t have enough brains to give yourself a headache.

And I won’t say I told you so either, but I did. How could we have ever doubted this Ireland team? The men who have delivered on so many occasions, but who have inexplicably stuttered and stalled in recent World Cups, finally sent us to where we thought they might some day, and here we all are, apparently in fairyland.

Anything seems possible now; economic stability, world peace, Conor O’Shea completing a sentence without being interrupted, even the permanent cessation of The X Factor feels within reach.

Sometimes sport has a way of taking the Michael out of analysis and “expert” opinion in a manner which makes you ache for it to happen more often.

However, World Cup winner and former South African captain Francois Pienaar issued a word of warning to Ireland after the match and in that unique smiley, smug way of his, observing that “Ireland should make sure they win the rest of their games and not let this be a flash in the pan”. A clear sign of genius, obviously, and further proof of why you need to have played this game at the highest level in order to commentate on it.

He actually said “flash in the ban” but one assumes that’s a pronunciation thing and not a strange South African take on the well-known phrase.

Much was made of the fact the withdrawal of two Australian forwards before the game would be a major psychological boost for Ireland and it would have Father Deccie jumping off the rafters, or stepping cautiously but with extra spring in Deccie’s case.

The majority of the pundits on ITV regarded this merely as significant, but in typical fashion, it was left to this country’s state broadcaster and Mr Skoy Plaaaaaaaaaasss on “Free to air” (if you don’t count the licence fee) RTÉ, to hammer home that this was the reason Ireland prevailed, until it reached the point where the words Pocock and Moore (surely a TV detective series in waiting) were being mentioned more often than the words “me” or “I”, which is saying something for that panel.

One wonders if the Sitting Bull of rugby punditry ever reaches heaven what he’ll find to complain about.

“Look God, I have to say I’m disappointed. The reality is that heaven is not all it’s cracked up to be and – and I’d like to make this point without being interrupted if you don’t mind – most people only want to come here because the alternative is so bad. I’m not saying you’re not a nice guy and all that, but the competition is so bad you couldn’t really fail. And furthermore . . .”

Zap, clang, lightning strikes as our maker has had enough of flappy features and blasts him off to the other place where McGurk is lying in wait to irritate and interrupt him forever more.

The truth is any team dependent on a lad called “Pocock” really deserve diddley squat. Indeed Stephen Moore snubbed Ireland and declared for Oz so maybe his conscience got to him and he pulled a sicky.

But as Ireland look to the rest of the tournament their task now is to put up a cricket score against Russia and then convince themselves that they’ve lost in order to eliminate any possibility of a dose of the heebie jeebies in the final pool game against Italy which now, as Paul O’Connell might say, is “massive”.

And even though Father Deccie will doubtless be giving it the “We’re not looking beyond the next game”, he has been saying the same thing for the last two years, when clearly his sole focus was on the match last Saturday. There’s no substitute for brains as any cute whore will tell you.

All in all, even aside from the Ireland result, this World Cup has set the pulse racing oodles more than in 2007, both on and off the pitch. What a strange world we now live in, where you can’t even go out celebrating with your team-mates, get utterly blotto, and attempt to snog a young one in full public view without it being blown out of all proportion and posted on YouTube. Well not if you’re English, anyway.

God be with the old days when you could crawl out of a pub on to the pavement and make yourself nice and comfy in the gutter for the night.

Indeed giving the Aussies a beating was not the only thing the Ireland set up got right last weekend, which just goes to show, however bad things might get on occasion, we can never be accused of not being able organise a piss up whether a brewery is in the equation or not.

Finally I would like to dispel all rumours linking yours truly with namesakes Quade – who has that worryingly disengaged expression peculiar to assassins – and Adam Ashley-Cooper, who clearly felt the need to hyphenate and ruin a perfectly good name. Or The Gooch who is, well, quite simply a Kerryman. Ouch!

Up the Dubs!