Irish Slam hopes die in rugby's modern Babylon

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.

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