‘You’re joking, right?’ The person on the other end of the phone was Grub Smith, a sports-loving friend of mine who I was hoping might get me out of a spot of bother. The problem was, I’d arranged to watch this Saturday’s rugby World Cup final with some neighbours and I thought my knowledge of the game could do with some brushing up. The question that had prompted Grub’s incredulous response was about Jonny Wilkinson. For some reason, he was surprised by my reference to him as ‘the quarterback’.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be afraid to reveal my ignorance in front of the neighbours, but not knowing about rugby carries all sorts of unwelcome implications. For one thing, they might think that I hadn’t been to a public school (and they would be right). Even if they were prepared to give me the benefit of the doubt on that, they might assume that I was one of those schoolboys who used to produce notes from their mothers to get them off games (and they would be right about that, too). All in all, I’d prefer it if they didn’t know just how unfamiliar I am with the rules of rugby.
‘So what’s the difference between rugby and American Football?’ I asked Grub. ‘Aren’t they basically the same?’ There was a pause.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Yes.’
‘Were you born in this country?’
‘Yes.’
‘And brought up here?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘So how on earth can you be so completely f

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