I know. I know. Best job in the world.

What will become of England and rugby on Saturday?

I won’t bore you with the 20-hour days, the desperate sprint for the last RER train from Stade de France, the pillar-to-post filing of copy this past daft few weeks, the transport strikes and, purely in the interests of research, the inability to go to bed while there might be newsworthy action out there in the bars and brasseries of the ‘Vallee de la Soif’ here in central Paris.

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