So that's that then, Burger and sighs all round and little relish for another portion of a Lion and Springboks supper this weekend.

Rugby, that game for thugs played by gentleman, is obviously a little different down South Africa way, as a group of men dressed in red haven't taken such a hiding in this part of the world since Michael Caine was prancing about.

This time spearing was about the only offence not committed, that loveable rogue Schalk Burger leaving the French referee to make a right pickle of himself by choosing the chicken option after Burger's attempt to use Luke Fitzgerald's head as a bowling ball.

“That's gouging in anyone's eyes” Stuart Barnes helpfully informed us on Sky. Stuart, engage brain, then speak.

This was after a minute and what followed was incredible stuff, a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous, and that was just the attire the Lions' fans were wearing.

Indeed, one idiot managed to find himself a match shirt near the end and ran about like a drunk gnu, bashing into things and just getting in the way. Thanks Ronan.

Of all the costumes, the worst has to be the lion heads that make the owners look like a very poor imitation of Bungle. Well, I suppose we were in the Rainbow Nation.

And with all the talk of the Lions as an entity on its last legs, they could be right, as Bread of Heaven bellowed out one minute, there was a very faint whiff of Jerusalem in the air and that ‘ole, ole, ole' drivel wafted around the pitch, while the Flower of Scotland was sitting wilting back in Hawick.

Thankfully though petty parochial squabbles between the brothers from the British Isles have no place in Sky's philosophy, they were right there, with red-tinted glasses on, as things got more and more desperate for the Lions.

While Burger and Bakkies Botha (of Scottish descent, so at least they were represented), were the villains, it was funny that when Brian O'Driscoll came clattering into Rossouw, Brussow, Clouseau or whatever he was called, it was just ill-timed.

An act of Bod clearly or Kato jumping out of a wardrobe.

And from then it wasn't just Steyns on the pitch, Miles Harrison and Stuart's Bokser shorts in serious peril as first Bryan Habana and then Jaque Fourie romped over, although they tried their best to see an imaginary foot in touch after an imaginary tackle by O'Gara.

And Ronan, lovin’ each day like it was his last (appearance), then decided he wanted to continue

on the roller-coaster of doom by running after the ball like a teenage girl chasing Boyzone.

It'll take more than words and Rab C Nesbitt’s headband to make up for this.