The nerves have been building all week, interspersed only with the occasional dream of being an extremely late call up due to the best 1,500 tight head props in Wales all getting injuries at the same time, the Semi Final is finally here tomorrow morning. Indeed, 13 hours and 20 minutes from when I am typing this now.

As I wrap my red dragon themed duvet around me, dash to the loo for a quick leek before it starts, and enjoy the feel of woollen slippers on my feet, I'll be confident that the fiery blast of the Welsh dragon, aimed directly at the fly half/inside centre channel in the form of three or four big rollocking backs and back rowers will demolish the French resistance. Parra may as well be a parra-plegic for all the good his defensive skills will do, and Van San Clerc should be back in the office rather than at full back. With a glass of brains in hand, and a slice of bread of heaven toast in the other, a glorious morning awaits.