Woodward shows his impatience. (Getty Images)

By Frank Malley, PA Chief Sports Writer

Short of Brian May scaling the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle to play a rock guitar version of Carmina Burana those responsible for the pre-match fripperies at Murrayfield had thought of everything.

Flames leapt 50ft into the sky, a skirl of bagpipes emanated from three brave souls perched on the stadium roof, most of Scotland's population of pipers it seemed littered the pitch along with a tickertape of glitter, the Princess Royal and, oh yes, two rugby teams - one from Scotland, the other from England.

In 108 years of modern Olympic competition, 74 years of football World Cups and a decade of Julian Clary few ceremonies have glittered quite so spectacularly.

And none have been so preposterously over-the-top.

Do not get me wrong. There is nothing untoward about putting on a show for the paying public.

Watching top-class sport these days is not cheap and if the sponsors and organisers want to lay on some additional entertainment that's up to them.

And whoever came up with the bright idea of bringing out the teams almost 15 minutes early to join in a production which was 'War of the Worlds' meets 'Alice in Wonderland' must have put on and pulled off some remarkable shows in their time - but unfortunately never a jock strap or a rugby jersey.

They clearly knew nothing about preparing for international sport.

There is good reason England captain Lawrence Dallaglio does his impression of a pacing polar bear with a very sore head when England go into their pre-match huddle.

It is to send the adrenalin surging to ensure a burst of explosive action straight from the kick-off.

In a sport as physically combative as top class rugby it is as important as a Ferrari's spot of fine tuning before roaring off the grid.

The last thing England needed was to be primed for action only to be kept shivering by the sort of hype satellite television invented and waiting by the endless ceremonial and inconsequential chit-chat of the Princess Royal.

Which is not meant to be gratuitously rude but while I have no idea what the Princess was saying to Jason Leonard for what seemed an age was there not a more opportune time to say it than while the rest of England's finest were exposed to the Edinburgh chill?

Dallaglio, ever the perfect gentleman, was deferential and later oh so diplomatic when he maintained that meeting the Princess and all the paraphernalia which surrounded it only "added to the occasion".

That's what he said.

I suspect he was thinking a little more on the lines of head coach Sir Clive Woodward whose currency as deliverer of the World Cup means diplomacy need not be quite as dutifully observed.

"Gamesmanship," raged Woodward.

And, do you know, there might be something in that considering the Scots have previous in this fixture dating back to their slow-walk led by David Sole in the Nineties.

"It's a sporting event, not a pop concert," continued Woodward. "It's getting over the top. We're here to play rugby, not sing songs."

If that sounded like a ready-made excuse for what, by England's high standards, was a flat performance, then it should be noted that even while not at their best England's four tries and the 35-13 result achieved their record score at Murrayfield.

If the truth be told, despite pipers, fireworks, delays, Woodward's conspiracy theories and surely the unwitting contribution of royalty, England were always going to beat Scotland.

Why? Because, pure and simple, not a single Scot is remotely good enough to make it onto the bench of the world champions, let alone into their team.

Much better then if the Scots in future matched the splendour of their ceremony to the capacity of their team.

A lone piper playing a mournful lament would do nicely.