One bagpipe player. One bagpipe player among 30,000 Australians and a million or so Frenchmen. And he has to be the man I end up sitting next to at the cafe where I'm writing this. What is a pair of bagpipes doing in Montpellier? I've no idea, but for the next 40 minutes, while Scotland finish the job of losing to New Zealand, he's going to be the smuggest man, barring a few Kiwis, for miles around.
He was at the stadium too: and earned himself a an announcement over the PA system: "we'd like to give some special thanks to our bagpipe player today!" "Ole!" chorused the crowd, before embarking on a handclap that was just slow enough, and certainly loud enough, to drown out the strains of You Take The High Road.
The Australians resorted to making their own entertainment as soon as it became apparent that the match was not going to amount to much more than a training run - a violent and ferocious training run. Mexican waves rippled around the steeply-terraced concrete sides of the Stade de la Mosson, and chants of 'Aussie Aussie Aussie' echoed throughout.
They reached a crescendo when a pair of streakers - the first I've seen at the tournament, and sadly they were men - vaulted the fence and burst onto the pitch. One was tap-tackled by a steward, the other though made it the full length of the pitch before belly-flopping over the try-line. He didn't have much time to celebrate, as he was quickly pounced upon by four security guards, who took a limb each before carting him from the pitch.
The Australians are great fans: I've never seen so many policemen with so little to do. Mostly they just stood around chatting to each other. It was hot, early-ish in the day and the match was a little flat so all the atmosphere had to come from the masses clad in green and gold. Not just green and gold of course, but cork hats, inflatable kangaroos and Southern Cross Stars.
They filtered their way back into town afterwards, barely a grumble among them, just happy to be at the World Cup: it seems astonishing that rugby union is so often said to be one of the least popular of sports Down Under, given how many supporters have made their way to France.
Australia have had a curiously quiet tournament so far, and as Sean Fitzpatrick noted this morning, there is something ominous about that. Having encountered the reserve sides of Japan and Fiji, as well as the far more taxing match against the Welsh, they've had the perfect balance to their opening matches. Those with an inclination for a good value bet could get them at 12-1 at the start of the tournament, odds which, given their propensity for playing out of their skins when it matters, seemed far too generous.
English perceptions - and they were English odds - are still tainted by that scrummaging debacle at Twickenham. Anyone who has seen John Connolly's sides in the past though should know that those problems won't dog them to the same extent anymore. Connolly has always produced good packs, and in combination with his current assistant Michael Foley, he turned Bath's into one of the most formidable in the Guinness Premiership.
Though small, they'll have plenty of what Connolly would describe as 'mongrel' about them. The back row is exempt from any of those out-dated criticisms anyway: they are a superbly mobile and confrontational combination who will leave many of their northern counterparts looking like lummoxes in comparison.
It is behind the scrum, of course, that Australia are really strong. They play as flat and fast as any side I've seen so far, and the volume and pace of runners they send at the opposition makes them a formidable proposition to defend against. Intelligently orchestrated by Matt Giteau, and equally well led by George Greegan, they are a superb unit.
Their general ball skills are quite astonishing, especially after a diet of northern hemisphere rugby. Their final try today, which completed Drew Mitchell's hat-trick, broke from their own try-line and was made by an astonishingly rapid and penetrative series of passes between their backs. It does not bode well for their opponents in the quarter-final, whether they are England or not.
Fiji on the other hand, are enduring a fairly dismal campaign, over-dependent on their established stars such as Moses Rauluni and Seru Rabeni, Wales should be sure to beat them. The only qualm is that the Fijians are pining for some glory in the tournament and have pinned their ambitions onto the game against Wales. It was with that in mind that they played a weakened side today.
It didn't make for a great game, but that didn't seem to bother anyone too much, the Australians are happy to bide their time and wait for the later stages when things will get a little more tense, and they'll have more to cheer than a nude ocker in a flag making an 80-yard run-in. Hopefully by that point, the man with the bagpipes will have grown tired of playing.
