Two finals will take place this week; one between two regional towns from the south of France, and the other between two mighty capital cities, in a glamorous, dazzling and sure to be entertaining affair in the heart of leafy Dublin 4.

Quite frankly, you can take your regional outposts like Leicester, Toulon and Limerick – it’s about time we had a meeting of great metropolises in a European final.  Leave the truffle hunters from the Auvergne to their little scrap with Toulon on saturday, and put truffle oil on your entrees before the Amlin Final instead.

Yes, give us the glitz and glamour of the pink-clad Parisians, led by the magnificently resplendant and wonderfully handsome Sergio Parisse.  These fellows, fresh from the lower reaches of the Top 14, know that all that business of winning silverware and cheating at the breakdown is just poor bloody form, and the really important thing is to look sensational no matter what the result.  In the mighty Amlin Cup, they’ve rightly dispensed with all that beastly Top Quatorze thuggery and simply gone back to the great Parisian style of playing, with terrific dash and verve.

And their opponents are of course, the European champions Leinster, the All Blacks of the Northern Hamisphere whose passing accuracy is second to none and who live to get the ball into the mitts of their three-quarters.  Watch in delight as the great Brian O’Driscoll pops a pass out the back door into the onrushing Blackrock-educated Ian Madigan.  What a match shall ensue!  To the winner the spoils!

Some tips for maximising enjoyment:

Head to Paris Bakery on Moore Street (yes, Moore Street, it’s a bit filthy, but try to gt through it) at lunchtime and dine out on their wonderful array of Parisian style pastries, as well as superb meats, cheeses and breads from their recently opened deli.  Maybe even bring some along to the game.  They’ll go down terribly well if you’re a bit peckish.  Or wet.

Dress appropriately.  The Parisian fans are a stylish brigade and we don’t want to let our side down.  Baggy jeans and hoodies should not be seen anywhere near the ground.  Head to Brown Thomas for a spruce up beforehand if you’re feeling sartorially inferior.  Your Leinster jersey should be fitted, and your scarf knotted just-so.

Forget about pints, go to the Corkscrew on Chatham Street and sneak one of these bad boys into the ground under your shirt, and quaff it down at regular intervals.  Plastic wine glasses are acceptable in this instance, but only because of the logistical difficulty with getting real ones past security.

After the match, go directly to La Maison and order the steak dish for two.  C’est magnefique!  Pichet is also to be recommended, and their pork belly is without match in this city.

A splendid occasion awaits tomorrow night, and we will be there to enjoy it.