Thursday 20th September 2007
France's predicament is pretty hairy at present, but it seems Sébastien Chabal is determined to make it less so. The piratical forward with more hair then the whole England team was last seen heading to a Parisian salon for a trim.
The Sale Sharks star's long flowing hair and unkempt beard have made him a cult hero in his native land, but the wig vendors stationed outside Stade de France might soon be out of a job.
"I'm going to the hairdresser and the barber," Chabal told reporters at France's training camp outside Paris on Thursday. "I'll bring you back a lock of my hair."
And with that, he wedged himself into his tiny red Smart car and was gone.
If he makes good on his promise he will be leaving behind more than a mountain of hair - shed, too, will be a number of his many nicknames.
His main moniker - "l'homme des grottes" (the caveman) - might need to be ditch, as too "Rasputin" and perhaps "Attila" also.
But "l'anesthésiste" - that's another one - is famed for his mischief-making and is likely to lead the paparazzi in a merry but ultimately fruitless dance.
Indeed, why would he rid himself of the very features that have made him a sex symbol?
No, you didn't misread that.
His team-mates like to point out how "Cartouche" (cartridge) - one more - can scratch the back of his knees without bending, but they are probably just jealous that their neolithic chum has already been voted the sexiest player at the World Cup. In your face, Jonny Wilkinson! Take that, Dan Carter!
French women, it seems, just can't get enough of the hirsute giant. Hoards of female fans trail in his oily wake of unreconstructed machismo - they actually call themselves "Chabalistes".
One of their number recently forced one browbeaten Frenchman to contact the agony aunt of a local newspaper.
"Ma femme m'oblige à porter un masque de Sébastien Chabal quand on fait l'amour. Que faire?" wrote the cuckolded dolt.
In the interests of propriety we will refrain from translating his sad cry for help. Instead, we'll leave it to a member of Chabal's love-lorn entourage, Cecile de Comarmond, to explained the attraction of "the Beast of Valence" - that's the last nickname, I promise.
"He's big and strong and oozes testosterone, totally different for the typical weedy French male charmers - he is all man," cooed the 24-year-old office worker.
"I loathed rugby before I saw him play. But a boyfriend dragged me to a match - and I gave him the boot straight afterwards because he seemed so wimpish compared with Chabal.
"I'm not alone in thinking he's like a gorgeous wild animal - there are thousands of us!
"French women are sick and tired of weak, vain boys who pluck their eyebrows, wax their chests and reek of cologne.
"We want the sort of man who would rather beat a door down with his bare hands than open it for us!
"Chabal is raw. He's masculine, huge, monosyllabic and hairy. If he held you, you'd know about it - you'd stay held. That's the kind of real man that all women secretly crave. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar.
"Chabal makes us want to say, 'Take me in your arms and protect me'.
"English women don't know what they're missing. Your Jude Law is not a man - next to The Caveman he is nothing but a toy."
Chabal's wife, Annick, was - quite understandably - unavailable for comment.
By Andy Jackson www.planetrugby.com
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