Gerry Thornley looks at the mood in the semi-finalists' squads and the contrasting ways they are handling - or manipulating - the media

Ireland move home but life, and the World Cup, moves on. With the big boys now. Literally, as it happens. Your correspondent finds himself in the same Manly hotel overlooking the Pacific as the English squad. Had Ireland been opposing them in this weekend's semi-final, I'd probably find myself being pitched up in a tent on the beach.

There's an altogether different ambience surrounding the English. Unlike Ireland, whose hotel foyer and bar comes under siege as match day nears, Red Rose supporters are confined to the street outside the hotel entrance, where they can ask for autographs.

Inside, daily press conferences are decidedly broodier affairs. Clive Woodward's solo press conference on Tuesday was convened and concluded by press officer Richard Prescott, without so much as one informal briefing or radio interview. The questions were markedly tougher too.

"Clive, in the opinion of most people in this room, Jonny Wilkinson's confidence has been shot to pieces. What do you think?" Clive smiles, composes himself and answers. One could well imagine Eddie O'Sullivan bristling at such a negative or critically loaded question.

We Irish are pussycats by comparison. For fear of offending him, we might boldly inquire, almost apologetically: "Eh, Eddie, what do you think of Brian O'Driscoll's form so far?" Or, after the French game, "Eddie, what does the comeback in the last half-hour tell you about the character of your squad?" Seriously.

The attendance at yesterday's even more stringently-controlled press conference with chirpy, articulate Matt Dawson and Phil Vickery, must have been close to 100. Afterwards, one female reporter, in the middle of filing her report after the press conference, was interrupted by Prescott, who said they weren't allowed to report from the sanctity of the hotel's first floor as players might be walking around.

Again, the tone from beginning to end was entirely negative. Why are England playing so badly? Why have they not had one 80-minute performance? What's wrong with Jonny? You can't possibly hope to beat France if you play like you did against Wales? And, for the most part, though clearly a little taken aback by the line of questioning and lauding the performances of South Africa, Samoa and Wales especially, the chirpy chappy Dawson and the somewhat more reserved Vickery agreed. They are as self-critical as their own ultra-demanding media are of them.

At least England are fronting up and talking every day. Australia, in their Coffs Harbour hideaway, are dipping into match venues at weekends and out again, while the All Blacks are doing likewise in Melbourne. There surely should be an obligation on the four semi-finalists to be in Sydney in order to promote the competition to the world media.

Long gone are the days when Nick Farr-Jones and Bob Dwyer led a charm offensive on the world's media en route to winning the Webb Ellis trophy. The more you come here the more you are irritated by the way Eddie Jones or former coaches and players demonise opponents before every game.

The Pumas would resort to eye-gouging and seek to physically intimidate poor little George Gregan. Before facing Ireland, Jones brought up the "nasty" pool meeting four years ago. Before playing Scotland, he brought up the dirty tactics of Ian McGeechan's Lions in 1989. They constantly seek to get at referees by highlighting the illegality of opposing team's tactics. Frankly, it's pathetic, but then again, in all their key games against Argentina, Ireland and Scotland, the marginal decisions have gone in their favour.

Admittedly, the hostility towards them, especially Jones and Gregan, from media and public alike has to be experienced to be believed.

Nevertheless, most of the Wallaby players seem to be deliberately kept away from the media, or if they are wheeled out, they pointedly say nothing. Like Phil Waugh declining to mention his old Waratahs rival Keith Gleeson by name, and getting a nod of approval from the watching press officer. Again, it's pathetic.

All of this yesterday prompted the Sydney Morning Herald's rugby writer Greg Growden to bemoan at length that the Wallabies are no longer the nice guys of world rugby, concluding his highly critical "comment" piece thus: "It really is time for Australia to return to charm school."

Meanwhile, all is sweetness and light in the French camp. The major spin-off of the New Zealand union messing up their bid to jointly host this tournament is that the All Blacks have been cocooned in Melbourne, away from the prying eyes of their ultra-critical public and media. As forecast here before the tournament began, they're better off not co-hosting the tournament. The pressure is all on the Wallabies.

Likewise, from their scenic base on Bondi Beach, the French exude serenity and cool, with Fabien Galthie doing his Jean-Paul Belmondo act. More than any French World Cup side before them, they're here to win the trophy. They don't mind saying it, or throwing a few barbs England's way.

"So now we have to prepare for the game against England," said Olivier Magne after their win over Ireland, "but it's a dream for us to win after what happened in Twickenham last September (when England hammered their second string).

"This week we will not work a lot on the technical side, but only the mental side. This dimension in our brain will make the difference. Against them (England) it is visceral. When we beat them it is always jouissance (an, eh, big source of pleasure) and if it could happen in this World Cup semi-final in Australia it would be amazing."

Where before there was in-fighting, now there is only serenity. They will draw further strength from the tragedy (an often used, but wrongly used adjective in sport) that befell reserve back Pepito Elhorga with the news on Sunday that his father had died after a long illness.

At Melbourne Airport on Monday morning, each member of the squad embraced him and kissed him on both cheeks. They whispered words of condolences in his ear. He will return to his extended family after the semi-final on Sunday if France defeat England.

After his try against Ireland, Imanol Harinordoquy made a "T" in deference to their squad members in the stand, aka the Toasties because they have to wear ties and shirts on match days.

So bad was the in-fighting in 1999, which Galthie last week revealed was "crazy", that such a show of togetherness simply wouldn't have happened.

Ah, Galthie. A born leader. As Matt Dawson said yesterday, Galthie wouldn't claim to have the best pass, nor the best kick, nor even the best break of any scrumhalf in the world, "but he has that X factor".

An inspiration to fellow thirtysomethings, "he has everything, and that's more dangerous than being fantastically skilled in one area".

Does destiny call Fabien? The history of sport tells us it's possibly too good an outcome to be true.