I was at Twickenham last weekend on a 'stag do' watching the rugby sevens. It was probably one of the most beautiful days of the year as the inclement weather had seemingly given way to glorious sunshine. This was my first experience of rugby live in a stadium, and I must say that it was very civilized and thoroughly enjoyable. The pitch seemed smaller than on the box, and the players appeared much larger. We all got stuck into an unrelenting course of beer drinking interspersed with ridiculous anthems and greasy snacks.

I started to ponder over the rugby ball shape as the belligerent bounces can easily turn a game. Apparently the form of the ball was originally dictated by the awkward dimensions of a pig's bladder, inflated by some poor person with a clay pipe while still green, smelly and malleable. The shape remains, but I suspect the mechanism has now moved on, leaving some very relieved pigs.

Wine bottles have also evolved into distinctive shapes from which a region can often be derived without even looking at the label. For example a Bordeaux is arrogant and handsome with long straight elegant sides, whereas a Burgundy is more feminine, curved and rounded at the bottom. A Rhone looks like a Burgundy but is slimmer and more athletic, a lack of modesty often resulting in a flagrant display of a coat of arms imprinted on the neck. The colour of the glass can even be a giveaway to a region, as in Germany with the tall thin functional 'Hock' bottle.

Unsurprisingly the alcohol fueled stag theme permeated through to the evening in a crazy London club that reminded me of the bar in 'St Elmo's Fire' where I endeavoured to 'bust some moves'.

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