Pulsating it was not, but the fifth drop goal of the afternoon, and the first for the visitors, saw Irish given a drop of their own medicine as the points went back to the Gardens. It took a lot of effort to get a Budge off the bottom, but eleventh place has never looked so good.

Three of the four fitness tests went the right way, with Bruce, Corne and Ben coming into the team, whilst AB was left to wait for at least another week after his “headache” in Toulouse. With Simon Emms and Ross Beattie making their league debuts, Saints started brightly, and put the first points on the board courtesy of Paul Grayson’s penalty. Once again though, the key Irishman was the very English Mark Mapletoft, and although it appeared during the first half that the lessons of Franklin’s Gardens had been noted - don’t give him any room - he could still damage us with his boot, and his kick over Wylie saw the winger barge him off the ball for an obvious penalty, and 3 all.

Mapletoft’s 10-12 combination with Mike Catt was paying dividends and got the home side moving , but they were also helped by some curious refereeing from A. Spreadbury Esq., who seemed to be enjoying the presence of the Sky cameras; he was making himself the centre of attention, and to reciprocate, their mobile cameramen were marking touch for him. He fulfilled the role of pantomime villain to the full, with Ben Cohen featuring as his poor downtrodden Buttons. With Ben doing his best work in defence, at one point covering a kick through by beating two men on his own tryline, Evil Spreaders took over. A kick behind the defence found Ben going back to cover by diving on the ball, to be followed shortly by Michael Horak diving on top of him before he had a chance to regain his feet. Penalty to Saints then?

Oh no it wasn’t.

Dame Imissedit decided to give a penalty to the Irish, much to the bemusement of all around. No damage came from the kick to the corner, but the England winger and Baron Shownup were to meet again, this time in Cohen’s favour. A quick drop out saw Ben run onto the ball in midfield, and in the process of knocking the ball on was tackled by Scott Staniforth. Surely not a penalty to Saints for an early tackle?

Oh yes it was.

The Bath man was refereeing the game as a Bath man would - appreciate your favourite son (Catt) whilst penalising those nasty men in black (and that strange mix of white and dirty dishwater). Act three of the tragic-comedy came just after the half hour. Saints had been playing some positive rugby up until then, but had to survive a sustained spell of pressure. With the ball in front of the posts about ten metres out, scrum half Paul Hodgson knocked on at a ruck (proven by the big screen), a hand flicked out (again proven), and up went the evil one’s arm as his other hand reached for the pocket and a card for Cohen - and it didn’t have Seasons Greetings on it. The bleached blond kicked the points, and the better team (to that point) were behind.

Behind, but not for long. Mapletoft had scored two tries at the Gardens, and now had a hand in one at the Madejski. For Saints. Throughout the game, both sides were trying intricate passing movements to try and break down two very good defences. Mapletoft’s reverse pass was read, intercepted and, given Saintly woes of recent weeks, not knocked on as Sharky raced away to the line. One despairing tackle later, and the 14 men were back in front. Robinson like the Madejski; that’s now two tries in two games, and with Grays kicking a very flat conversion, there was a deserved 10-6 lead.

Typically, Saints still managed to give away three more points to Tofty before the break, but another 40 minutes like that and it could be a good night. Instead we got thirty minutes of a complete horror show, as Irish took over. Just as at Newcastle, Saints couldn’t repeat the dose from the first half. Shane Drahm replaced Grayson, who had been having a mare (two kicks charged down, not finding space, not being his usual all-seeing self), but Saints went into their shell and Irish sensed weakness. Mapletoft and Catt were given too much room, and had Paul Sackey not been anonymous, the gaps that were being created as the ball was repeatedly fed along the line could have been utilised to better effect.

One of my biggest bug bears with Saints is the drop goal. We don’t seem to be know how to defend them; we don’t seem to know how to get into a position to fully utilise them. Like a leaky tap, the second half was one drop after another. Mapletoft first regained, then extended the lead to 18-10, as Irish decided to forego attractive rugby to get points whenever they could get their man in front. Three times Spreadbury ran to the posts, and once again despair enveloped Saintly heads. The Spice Girls once sang “will this deja-vu never end?”. It didn’t seem like it.

Finally, Saints won their first penalty of the half, as Keiron Dawson was found to be offside somewhere just behind the North Stand, and Shane kicked the points from 52 metres. A lifeline. Two penalties later (the worm was turning), and Drahmy had reduced the gap to two with another kick that just made it over the bar.

Game very definitely on.

Barry Everitt replaced Mapletoft, battered but rightly Irish’s man of the match, and he took his turn to have a drop, and make it 21-16. We looked for a try, and with Spreadbury playing advantage, Drahmy tried a drop that was more a plop as it barely went above head height. We’d take the penalty though, and 21-19 with minutes remaining meant the kind of tense finish that the skill levels shown didn’t deserve.

Irish went long from the kick off, but were penalised. The ground gained meant another attacking opportunity from close to halfway. With the wall standing firm, Drahm found touch in the 22 with a great kick over Justin Bishop. The Irish lineout, imperious at FG, and struggling here (step up Damien Browne and Mark Soden in particular), went pear-shaped at the wrong time, the ball being adjudged as not straight.

From the scrum, Shane stood in the pocket, whilst Mike Catt stood ready with one target - whatever was to leave Drahm’s foot. Ben Jones had by now replaced Sharky, victim of a ruck collapsing on his knee, and he now had to produce the best pass of his short career. Instead, he came up with his worst; on the bounce, and around Drahm’s toes. Catt bore down, but Air Shane picked up, stepped inside, and hurriedly put his own drop goal attempt up.

And through, without doubt the sweetest drop any Saints fan has had to enjoy for years. A lead, and only two minutes to hold onto it. Irish went for it, and despite getting into what seemed to be good positions, decided to push for better territory before finding Everitt. The ball was turned over once, but the kick for touch didn’t bring the required whistle. From the lineout, they tried again, but eventually Everitt went for it from very deep.

It was a Sarries 2000 moment - we all watched to see where the ball would go. Bruce did the Pat Lam role under the posts, but the ball this time around missed by more, and we had one more wait.

It was to be a very short one, as the final whistle blew, and for the third season running, Saints had ended a record-breaking run. A win after nine consecutive defeats may not be as memorable as ending 57 match runs at Welford Road, or 51 game ones in Agen, but it will prove to be much more important in the long run. Drahm took the glory, but the whole pack should take the plaudits. Forwards win matches; the backs decided that one point would do.

The tide has now turned; as befits a Christmas game, Snowy was my star man. Eleventh place is now upwardly mobile. Sky will no doubt slate us, but they miss the point.

Finally, there was something decent to watch on TV this Christmas.

And I’m now going to finish the kissing of my fiancé that I started on camera before the first whistle. Now what do we do when we win again?