Irish Slam hopes die in rugby's modern Babylon
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Irish Slam hopes die in rugby's modern Babylon
It was as if you could hear the place ticking. For these gatherings of rugby clans, Cardiff takes the feel of a city with its collar a little crooked and eyes the colour of cinder. Stretched to the seams and swaying on that tightrope between hilarity and a loose incendiary spark, it becomes hopelessly congested and, on occasion, over-wrought.





