It all ended satisfactorily for a super-patriot

It is at times highly entertaining and potentially embarrassing to watch Test rugby with a super-patriot who has no qualms about wearing his heart four-square on his sleeve and loudly voicing his displeasure in the saltiest level what can be termed a rudimentary rendition of the Queen’s English.

But barring the stream of outbursts from the man known to the usual gathering as Biggles for his propensity to wear Baron von Richthofen-style World War I aviator goggles with his motorcycle helmet, there are some threads of sense running through his machine gun volley of outbursts.

He has a strong objection to what he sees as aimless kicking, front row forwards who buckle under pressure – though he admits an affinity for Beast Mtawarira and his stubborn longevity in reaching 100 international caps at loosehead – in the second Test against England in Bloemfontein.

But the thing that really riles Biggles is an inability to catch a pass “graduates of the knock-on academy”, he calls them – or players who grope hopelessly trying to stop their direct opponents – “Tackle,” he booms, decorating that single observation with a variety of oaths that would frighten the horses and scare the children. “Why can’t they tackle?”

In this regard, it would be both extremely impolite and impolitic to pass on what Biggles had to offer on the deja vu of Mike Brown and Jonny May running in unanswered tries to expose Springbok defensive frailties out wide for England to take an early 12-0 lead except to reaffirm that the phrase “Tackle! Tackle! Tackle!” featured strongly in a veritable diatribe of rough-hewn rhetoric of the “here we go again” variety.

But Biggles had jumped the gun and a bullocking charge by iron man Duane Vermeulen who burst over the line for a try which Handre Pollard duly slotted and, added to two penalties from the flyhalf gave South Africa the 1312 lead they held at half-time and never relinquished.

To the already inflammable Biggles character must be added an almost pathological hatred of referees, a breed he equates to the nether portion of the average rear end. But, he kept largely hushed as French whistleman Romain Poite awarded the Boks a penalty try as they attempted to drive the ball across the line. There were, however, some pointed references to the South Africans’ failure to maul their way through for a try on three earlier occasions from attacking lineouts when he punctuated the proceedings with shouts of: “Take the points! Take the points!”

But all this changed dramatically when English prop Mako Vunipola leaned down at a pile-up and hit Pieter-Steph du Toit in the face with the Bok flanker lying defenceless on the ground.

“Send him off! Send him off!” was the core feature in the abuse Biggles aimed at Poite. It probably wouldn’t have made any real difference if a yellow (or indeed a red) card had been issued, for the Springboks were clearly in the ascendancy; the win a formality and the three-match series secured.

Biggles wound down until the Beast danced a jubilant victory dance at the sideline. For the first time in 80 minutes of stress, Biggles relaxed ... and smiled broadly in satisfaction.