By Didds - who has never played wing, and is never likely to either.
Wingers are the forgotten men of rugby.
Voyeurs to the rolling, sweating masses. Bystanders in a murky world of grips, and binds, and jockstraps. And this is just in the changing room. Out on the pitch little changes. While the ball tantalisingly appears somewhere near a steaming mass in the vicinity of Bolivia, the winger is left literally out in the cold - fingers blue and knees knocking as his core temperature plummets and hypothermia sets in once again.