The London Times calls it 'an old-fashioned hiding', and the Guardian had to resort to painting Dunedin as a city of gritty hardarseness to explain the All Blacks' magnificence. ('Carisbrook sort of sums the city up. It is a primeval rugby ground, an untidy pile of girders and concrete blocks on the edge of town, surrounded by a highway, railway tracks, coal yards, car repair shops and second-hand dealerships. It is cold and old, cramped and damp. They do not serve prawn sandwiches here; they sell meat pies, low on temperature, high on gristle.' Huh? Are you talking about the same city I am? You know, the broodingly pretty one with all those antique shops and espresso cafes and Californian bungalows?) I will spare you the most unladylike of my taunting, but the English sure didn't look much like world champions last night at Carisbrook. 36-3, beyotch! Now, if only we could salvage something out of the cricket...