TV VIEW: YOU COULDN'T but sense that it was a touch chilly in Paris when Keith Wood appeared on our screens bedecked in so many thermal layers he had the look of a man about to set off from his Everest base camp for the summit.

Beside him, Jonathan Davies and Serge Betsen were similarly encased in hypothermia-defying garments, while John Inverdale, the frost having welded his right hand to his microphone, welcomed us, um, warmly to the Stade de France. “Wello ewee-one.” That could explain then why, initially at least, the BBC crew, posted in the gods of the stadium, were a bit more pessimistic from the off about the chances of the encounter going ahead, the RTÉ gang, back in their toasty warm Montrose studio, busying themselves with previewing the game-that-wasn’t-to-be.

Conor O’Shea was urging Ireland to get in France’s faces, to show a bit of aggression, prompting Brent Pope to tell us that “porcupines make love very difficulty”. “Ewwww,” was the gist of his colleagues’ reply, but, happily, Brent opted not to expand on his theory, not least because George Hook was feeling spiky enough already.

And then word came through: game off. If only they’d listened to Evelyn Cusack and the rest of the Met Éireann folk all week, they stopped just short of placing an igloo over Paris on their weekend weather map.

“I can’t believe we are where we are, it should not have come to this,” said Tony Ward, talking about the postponement, not our economy, “absolutely disgraceful, an absolute farce.” While much of Ryle Nugent and Tony’s sympathy was focused on the players and supporters, you couldn’t feel any sorrier for Six Nations official Christine Connolly and the band stoically stationed in the middle of the pitch.

“Thank you very much, goodnight,” said Christine.

“Booooooooooooooooo,” the crowd replied.

And the band. God love them. They’d probably spent the evening dousing their tambourines, tubas and trombones in anti-freeze, but, it seemed, they were the last to be told about the deferral of this particular Six Nations tête-à-tête.

Did anyone check? Are they still on the pitch, waiting to launch in to Ireland’s Bawl and La Marseillaise? Or, as more than a few wondered on Saturday, was this a Titanic type thing, the band, fully aware of the less than encouraging circumstances, opting to serenade its agitated audience with Nearer Mon Dieu To Me? “What are we doing in a rugby stadium at nine o’clock on a Saturday night in February, an extraordinary time,” asked television rugby presenter Tom McGurk, with not a trace of an eye-rolling, self-deprecating mea culpa on his face.

George, at least, had the good grace to remind him that, well, it’s telly that ordains these unhinged kick-off times, and the last folk to be given consideration are the great unwashed who travel from, say, Poulaphouca and Perpignan to Paris of a February night to watch a game of rugby. “It’s simply a spectacle of bread and circus, those people don’t matter,” he said, and although it hurt a bit, you couldn’t disagree.

No rugby in Paris, then, and not a great deal of football in Manchester on Saturday either. Well, not true, there was, but non-footballing matters stole the Sky Sports show.

Not the finest of days for Liverpool, as their apologies yesterday conceded, but next to Jamie Redknapp, who made Kenny Dalglish and Luis Suarez’ words and deeds seem almost noble, the club can walk through the storm with their heads held high.

Redknapp’s take on it all bordered on the excruciating, the big mistake, he insisted, repeatedly, that the handshake business wasn’t scrapped – not that the Liverpool player had refused to shake hands with the black player he had racially abused.

And twice he told us, like it was an equaliser, that Rio Ferdinand had opted not to shake hands with Suarez after he witnessed him choosing not to shake hands with his team-mate who he had racially abused. “But if he shook his hand we wouldn’t be talking about it,” said presenter David Jones when Redknapp complained about the fuss.

“I know, but he obviously didn’t want to, did he? He felt that strongly about it,” he replied, adding to the wacky notion that Suarez is the injured party in all of this, despite repeatedly addressing a black opponent as “negrito” in their Anfield battle, like the colour of his skin was pertinent to their footballing dispute.

“I personally don’t think we’ve got a huge problem with racism in football . . . we have to be very careful that we’re not making something of it, it’s not as bad as what people have been saying.”

And the lad with the pearly white skin would know, right? Never mind sending Suarez on his way, how about putting Redknapp out to pasture?