Old Etonians run the country, yet the Rugby World Cup has managed to break down class barriers

A long time ago, when I was at college, our lecturer came in after the weekend and railed about the latest outbreak of football hooliganism. “They are just low-life yobs who get drunk and beat each other up,” he said. He was a rugby man, who played for the local team. Minutes later, with no trace of irony, he was telling us about his own weekend. “Terrific match,” he said, “we smashed their heads in and then had a tremendous piss-up.”