The Englishman, the Irishman, and the New Zealander.

Every four years the leading rugby players of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland form a team to tour one of the southern hemisphere countries. They’re called the British and Irish Lions, and have been in existence, in one form or another, since 1888.

Way back in the days when Empire was still a going concern (I think it was some time in the 1930s,) the Lions were touring New Zealand. This was at a time when the average Englishman considered himself a rare breed, superior to all others in dress, decorum, and the innate ability to lord it over the natives. They weren’t afraid to say so, either.

One such Englishman was playing in the front row of the scrum. For those who don’t know, a rugby scrum is a dark and mysterious place where anything goes as long as it isn’t spotted by the referee, and sneaky acts of violent intimidation are commonplace. And the first in line to receive such sneaky acts are the players in the front row.

This game was no exception. One of the New Zealand second rowers was having the usual bit of fun, stretching his arm between the members of his own front row and punching the English prop on the nose. The Englishman declined to either remonstrate or retaliate for a long time, since the former would have been less than phlegmatic, and the latter bad form. Eventually, however, even he felt the situation could go on no longer. He approached the offending New Zealander and shook his hand.

An Irish team mate ran over to him and angrily demanded to know what the hell he’d done that for.

‘Why d’ya shake his ****ing hand? I’d have torn his ****ing head off!’

The Englishman walked away with his nose in the air, and said

‘I wanted to make him feel a cad. You wouldn’t understand.’