TV VIEW:COME THE end of Saturday's sporting action we were left wondering how the course of African history might have been altered if Ken Dodd and the Diddy Men had been charged with the task of defending Rorke's Drift in 1879 against 5,000 livid Zulu warriors, writes MARY HANNIGAN
It was Pat Dolan on Setanta and George Hook on RTÉ who, combined, had inadvertently posed this conundrum, one that had a "well, we'll never know - so why worry about it?" quality to it, but, nonetheless, it left you wondering, especially if you'd nothing better to be wondering about.
"Their defending in the first 20 minutes was like Ken Dodd and the Diddy Men," Pat had said of the Liverpool rearguard at half-time in their clash with the increasingly mighty Hull City, while later that night George, as close to lost-for-words as he could ever be, said of Munster's comeback against Clermont Auvergne: "That was probably the greatest performance against a superior force since the defenders of Rorke's Drift against the Impis of Ketchwayo."
Clermont Auvergne have been called many things in their time, usually "unlucky" (nine French finals, nine defeats), but probably never before the "Impis of Ketchwayo".
But those very Zulus couldn't break down the defences of 139 Brits, who guarded their post with much the same defiance as, say, Tomás O'Leary in the face of Benoit Baby advancing thunderously towards the try line on Saturday afternoon.
It was remarkable stuff.
"I think they do it to sell DVDs," said Conor O'Shea, who still, no more than ourselves, couldn't figure out how Munster had won by 10 points a match they appeared positively certain to lose with a mere four minutes to go.
When Marcus Horan touched down on 76 minutes Ryle Nugent asked "WHAT. ABOUT. THAT?"
"WHAT. ABOUT. THAT," Ralph Keyes replied.
"WHAT. ABOUT. THAT," Ryle replied back.
Sure, what else could you say?
Munster?
Reports of their Heineken Cup demise had, after all, been ginormously exaggerated.
"A miracle is something for which there is no natural explanation, and that was a miracle," said George, who, when asked later by Tom McGurk what he'd like for Christmas, requested a DVD of the Munster v Clermont Auvergne game.
Conor, like George and Tom, decked out in his Santa hat, nodded enthusiastically, and, like George and Tom, seemed up for cancelling his request for a Dora the Explorer Magical Welcome House in exchange for a DVD of Saturday's miracle.
Back on Setanta, alas, the Christmas spirit was notable by its absence, although Pat, in fairness, did throw a nod in a festive direction when he paid tribute to Liverpool full-back Andrea Dossena by declaring "what a pudding he has proved to be".
And an undercooked plum pudding has much the same consistency as Ronnie O'Sullivan's brains on occasion, on those times when he mislays the plot and behaves like an unstable tulip.
But how can you not love the fella, especially when he's in the form he was in for his Inside Sport interview with Gabby Logan?
Granted, describing his father as "the greatest mentor that I could ever have", when the fella has spent the last 18 years behind bars for a particularly nasty murder, might make you worry about Ronnie's judgement, but if it's possible to set that aside then he's a grand lad.
Troubled, certainly, but rascally charming with it.
He talked about the uproar that ensued after he played left-handed against Alain Robidoux in the 1996 World Championships.
"It's like a mistress," he said, gripping his lesser used hand.
"My wife is my right hand, my mistress is my left, I don't want to get rid of her, I want to keep her there so I can keep the relationship going. I have to give it love and care, I don't want to abandon it, it's not fair, it's been good to me.
"I can't throw it out the window."
Gabby nodded, like ourselves pretending to understand Ronnie's bond with his left hand, but back in the studio Dennis Taylor revealed he had first left-hand experience of how powerful a relationship this is.
"I played him once and his mistress cleared the table with a 135 break, every shot played with his left hand," he said, so little wonder Ronnie was reluctant to chuck it out the window.
"I just see big pockets, I see balls that are light, I see that I can make them do whatever I want them to do," he said of the game that he has mastered, while wincing at the notion that he might win three or four more world titles.
That, he reckoned, required a drive he doesn't possess, and would be an indication that he had no life. The defenders of Rorke's Drift would be appalled by his lack of resolve, Munster he certainly isn't . . . but still, how can you not love him?
" 'I think they do it to sell DVDs,' said Conor O'Shea, who still, no more than ourselves, couldn't figure out how Munster had won by 10 points a match they appeared positively certain to lose with a mere four minutes to go
