For this to be pretty, something pretty ugly had to happen. There was a juicy little conspiracy theory in circulation before the game that if these two teams shared an eight-try draw then Harlequins would be doomed even if they beat Sale. Without a bonus, that is. Oh, the mathematics of all this.

It was much simpler to keep it - well - simple. Plum ugly, really. And work on the premise that nobody here was going to force back the frontiers of invention in order to escape the sweep of the reaper's scythe. OK, the drop out of the Premiership. The way they've been going on about the drop you'd think it was terminally gangrenous, as opposed to being the just desserts for finishing bottom of a league.

Anyway, the way the front rows went at each other in the early moments suggested that good old competition was the order of the day, rather than a preconceived contrivance. Those ancient sluggers who remain the barometer of the game soon settled down. As did Shane Drahm, the rather more delicate outside-half on the Saints side.

Now, here was a real drama. Ho ho. Drahm may be at Northampton for the moment but next season he will be with Worcester. How could it be in his interests to boot his future employers into the first division? The Queenslander once got himself booted out of his state squad by going on the lash after a game against the Lions. He understands the true spirit of the game. He dealt with his dilemma by kicking three out of three in the first half and doing his best to cut through his mates-to-be at every opportunity.

For a time it seemed Northampton, with a lot more experience of life in the top flight, would survive all this embarrassment. They slipped ahead with two penalties and looked settled.

Then they leaked a try that revealed precisely why they have been up to their ears in trouble for most of the season. Worcester had a five-metre scrum from which scrum-half Matt Powell ran to the blind side and through a defence that was anything but top-drawer.

To be fair, the Saints responded by opening up Worcester with a series of sweeping moves, a linked passage of play that ended with Paul Diggin going over in the corner. Drahm converted from the touchline, to mutterings that he might at least have missed that one.

Back came Worcester. Or rather, Powell. Somebody in high office should take a look at the scrum-half. He was very sharp. Off he went from long range, spotting an unguarded blind side again. A couple of rucks after that break-out, Dale Rasmussen spotted another gap and picked up to cross more or less unchecked. At half-time, Worcester had turned things around.

It also meant the game was back on course for something approaching the eight-try tally. To restore a more realistic semblance of disorder in the lower reaches, Drahm and Brown then engaged in drop-goal competition, the Worcester outside-halfmissing two to Northampton's one. Drahm caught up by yielding a turnover in a tackle by Pat Sanderson. He was no longer quite so infallible.

The game swayed between the effectively bruising - mostly in the burly shape of John Rudd - and the twitchy. One counter by the wing nearly created a try for Diggin on the other side. Ben Cohen, on the other hand, kicked over the dead-ball line from a relatively undemanding position. In the third quarter neither side managed a point.

Drahm then laid out his cards again. One turnover doesn't make a turncoat, he seemed to be saying as he landed his third penalty.

On came the replacements, interrupting the rhythm of the game. Up went the groans for every put-in conceded, the cheers for every half-yard gained. It wasn't pretty, but it created a tension that drilled everyone into their seats. And then out of them.

Tony Windo, engaged in that early exchange of fraternal front-row views way back, found himself on the gallop in open play. He panicked not and flipped a quite delicious pass to Drew Hickey, who was running an even more delicious angle. The No 8 screamed over. Worcester, a mild-mannered city, erupted like exploding chinaware.

Drahm had gone off. Paul Grayson was on, stroking over a penalty to reduce the gap to two points. Worcester set up camp in the Northampton's half and made no effort to extricate the ball from the most stationary ruck in the long and not altogether riveting history of slow rucks. Each moment of obscurity was wildly cheered as the clock counted down.

With one of those 'don't care' hacks into the highest part of the stands, the home team brought the game to a conclusion. Another blast of sound; another voluminous sigh of relief. If this is what relegation does, then we should have more of it. Hell, this was sport in the raw. Not pretty, but beautifully ugly.

For Northampton, it must have been an elbow to the solar plexus. If this was relegation, then they could well do without it. Ring fence: sweet words.

And then news came through from The Stoop. London's last remaining club had lost. There were no losers in Worcester. Both teams went on a lap of honour. On a sunlit jewel of a day there was every reason to celebrate the winning of absolutely nothing.

WORCESTER Delport; Pieters, Rasmussen, Lombard, Hinshelwood; Brown (Hayes 65), Powell; Windo, Van Niekerk (Daly 68), Lyman, Murphy, Gillies, Vaili (Mason 65), Sanderson (capt), Hickey.

Tries: Powell, Rasmussen, Hickey Cons: Brown 2, Hayes

NORTHAMPTON Reihana; Rudd, Cohen, Stcherbna, Diggin; Drahm (Grayson 74), Fulton; Smith, Thompson (capt; Richmond 74) , Sturgess (Emms 68), Boome (Browne 15), Lord, Fox (Soden 71), Krige, Blowers.

Try: Diggin Con: Drahm Pens: Drahm 3, Grayson

Referee: C White.

Attendance: 8,477