Todd Fuller at the Rugby World Cup: Plotting world union a very thirsty business

Leigh Utton, Craig Hewetson and Todd Fuller. Photo / Steven McNicholl

The relationship guidance councillor has informed me that I need to listen to my liver.

Some mates decided to go overseas in the early stages of the tournament as it was only the pool games - well, how wrong that decision looks now.

The pool rounds brought people from all over the globe to the world's biggest party - now, sadly, many of them have gone. And I'm not just talking the 20 nations competing in the World Cup.

Our first stop this week was Napier for Canada v Japan and we found ourselves drinking in The Rose with Martin Mann and Markus Hanslik, from the Rugby Club Krems in Austria. When I asked why they got into rugby, Markus replied: "Love of the game, love of the lifestyle." Then he proceeded to skull a jug of beer.

He later passed out at the game, but managed to pull himself together and came to town with us later.

That night we met a 28-year-old woman who was the ex-president of the Finland rugby union and finished the evening drinking with a rapper from Canada. As you do.

The next day was Romania v Georgia in Palmerston North. Nobody has got behind the teams like Palmy has.

The great thing about these pool matches is everyone follows the same route around the country. So, as the night in Palmy rolled on, the French, English, Irish and Canadians we had been drinking with in Napier all appeared, forming what we call the World in Union Brigade. We moved from pub to pub en masse.

It made sense to spend the night singing one another's national songs, so Kiwis sang Waltzing Matilda, the Poms did Bread of Heaven and the French roared out Swing Low Sweet Chariot. Englishman Michael Finch, of Wimbledon, said: "This is the only night of my life where I feel there is a chance for world peace."

Our next two chill-out days were spent in Waikanae, where the boys played touch rugby against some French backpackers. Then it was Wellington. If Tonga took over Auckland on the opening night, then this was France's turn to take over Wellington. The atmosphere around the waterfront was Gallic madness - if only their team could have matched the pre-match excitement.

The Cake Tin is a great stadium and to be at an upset of that magnitude was truly terrific. The night was spent bar-hopping. We all had bigger bags under the eyes and our voices were raspier, but the rate of the amber liquid intake remained the same.

We had saved just enough brain cells to call it quits around 5am as the mighty All Blacks were playing the next day.

But on Sunday, we awoke to a nightmare - Daniel Carter was out of the tournament. As the day wore on we realised that this was the tournament's "where were you when Diana died" moment.

It was odd to have a typical World Cup party atmosphere overshadowed by a sudden Colin Slade trial match. We hit town after the game to watch the Warriors and - perhaps unwisely - drink with the Irish. As Craig Hewetson said: "There's burning the candles at both ends, then there's just throwing the bloody thing in the fire."

With the knockout stages now upon us, we're now fishing through the embers for bits of wax to piece the candle back together and start the whole boozy process again.