IT is 4.30am.

I am sitting in a taxi, heading for the airport.

"You have a great job," says the driver. "I have a rotten job."

There is a pause before I interject. "Aye but if my job is good and yours is so bad why are we both at work at the same time in the same eight square feet?"

It is a matter of perception. That and what followed the taxi trip. One of us was heading for mayhem with rowdy men of a certain age and the possibility of being spattered with the results of industrial drinking. The other was just going to continue driving a taxi.

I was off to Twickers. The subsequent scenes showed me one truth: the only difference between a working-class drinking orgy and a middle-class drinking orgy is the number of arrests.

Here's a tip: if you are on the lam from the cops, head for Twickers. They would not make an arrest if you were toting a Kalashnikov while dealing horse. Or even riding a horse while dealing horse.

Anyway. One of the lessons from Twickenham has nothing to do with lenient policing. It has nothing to do with the buying of rail tickets. Though I stood behind one guy for ages as he tried to purchase a ticket to Waterloo from a machine. We could have recreated the Battle of Waterloo in the time he took.

He approached the simple instructions in a manner that suggested the difficulty was akin to rescuing astronauts from a malfunctioning rocket. I murdered him. And the police gave me a severe ticking off before escorting me on to the train after I promised I would never do it again.

No, the lesson from Twickenham was more of a sporting one. It was this. There still seems to a reservoir of goodwill towards Vern Cotter, the national rugby coach. Most improbably, it still exists within the rugby press. Scotland have had the sort of 6 Nations that takes the granny off Flodden but still Vern is escaping the severest of criticism.

It is a tendency I agree with because I believe it is rooted in reality. The expectation voiced by many rugby commentators before the 6 Nations that Scotland could win two or even three matches always seemed highly improbable to me. It made me wonder where this optimism came from and it may just be because definite improvement has been confused with an ability to overwhelm stronger sides.

It may also be because people like to be "positive". Though being "positive" is what caused the banking crash. There was one wee clerk who kept protesting that it was ever so slightly risky to lend $60m to a garage pump attendant in Louisiana so he can buy his tarpaper shack but he was drowned out by suits for being "negative".

Anyway. The calls for Vern's head have been limited to a few mutterings behind his very considerable back and he will survive at least until the World Cup where the match against Samoa may be the clincher over whether Scotland progresses or slips out of Newcastle under the dead of night.

In the meantime, he has to prepare a team for a match against Ireland today. The Irish are more than decent, have a top coach and a chance at the championship. They may be battle weary after defeat to Wales but they are battle-hardened too. They could and even should beat Scotland. But Vern, properly, will remain in situ.

This reasonable tolerance will bring a wry smile to the lips of Gordon Strachan who faces a game with Ireland in June that will go some way to deciding whether Scotland will be represented at Euro 2016. He must first play Gibraltar at Hampden.

Strachan has already improved Scotland significantly. He has shown commendable pragmatism in altering his initial gameplan to fit in with resources. He has, in short, and there are few shorter, improved the national team.

Yet if his team slipped up against Gibraltar, he would not escape arrest at Twickenham. He would be slated for a trial run of the introduction of the stocks. Even a loss in Dublin would bring pointed questions.

Wee Gordy's previous good record would count as nothing if Euro qualification seems to slip from a nation's grasp. A veteran of dealing with the realities of football, Strachan knows that a good performance in Germany, a draw in Poland and an improvement in the national squad will count for nothing if he comes up short.

Cotter can thus enter the game against Ireland with a degree of confidence that there is a future for him beyond the 6 Nations. Strachan knows that he is sprinting through a minefield wearing a blindfold and that pointing to improvement is as much an antidote to criticism as covering his ears.

It is not fair but it is the way the sports are perceived by their followers. Scottish rugby fans would settle for a win and the hope for slightly better days to come.

The Scottish football culture demands qualification for Euro 16. If not, there will be calls for a taxi for Strachan.