KEY POINTS:
Irish Radio DJ 1: "So how about Ireland's cricket team?"
Irish Radio DJ 2: "Yeah how about them?"
That, I am reliably told by friends in Ireland, is how the Irish have approached their team making the Super 8s.
It is not a surprising response from a country that didn't even know they had a cricket team let alone were in the World Cup.
And why would they? Cricket is from England and the Irish hate the English but the win did give my Irish housemates an additional reason for them to get drunk on St Patrick's Day - like they needed it.
Of course their miraculous win has been overshadowed by the biggest story in world cricket since Bodyline, the apparent murder of Bob Woolmer.
Most papers are jostling for a unique angle on the story and, sandwiched between the apparent lesbian love affair between Carmen Electra and '80s rock star Joan Jett and yet another story about Harry Potter star Daniel Radcliffe appearing nude in a play, The Sun explosively revealed that Woolmer was a big man and therefore, someone bigger would have strangled him.
The biggest cricket story ever has been tagged Woolmergate and relegated all coverage from the games themselves to briefs and sidebars, unless of course it's another story about how good England's Paul Collingwood is or how much Freddie Flintoff loves a drink.
New Zealand's win against Canada, which included the fastest World Cup half century by Brendon McCullum was crammed deep in the sports pages concisely reported in just one paragraph in most papers.
Finding a pub that was willing to telecast the game on Thursday was harder to find on unsoiled seat on the Tube.
The regular Antipodean backpacker haunts like the Walkabout hotels have had smatterings of punters but most fans are waiting for the silly part of the competition to come to an end and the Super 8s to start.
I found a pub in Piccadilly to watch the game where the publican offered me an ultimatum after I asked for the TV to be changed from the Scotland v Netherlands match to the Black Caps game.
If I could somehow eject two rabid Scotsman from the front of the bar who were cursing their teams' inability to do anything right, I could have my cricket match on all six TV screens including the massive plasma.
I quite like living so along with my Kiwi mates, we waited patiently until the game was over – it didn't take long.
When it finally appeared on the big screen, Canada was struggling, Shane Bond was being rested and Jacob Oram's magical finger was bowling.
It was agreed the competition was far too long and even if New Zealand failed to win another game, the All Blacks were a sure thing to win the Rugby World Cup and that is all that matters.
Talk returned to Woolmer and the match was completely forgotten such is the tepid interest in the World Cup.
