I'm sure that, like most of you, the sheer rage which manifested itself in the wake of the dastardly deed perpetrated in the Stade de France could have taken on a seriously physical form.

As I fell into a fitful slumber pondering the sheer brazen robbery visited upon us by Thierry Henry, I imagined hordes of outraged Irish fans forming a spontaneous pitchforks-and-flaming-torches procession, like angry villagers in a Frankenstein film, and marching to the French embassy at 36 Ailesbury Road (tel 277 5000) to burn the place to the ground.

However, had such an action been taken in the heat of the moment then French leave would surely have been required the following day -- not to mention the services of a good brief -- and the gravity of the evil act in Paris wouldn't have truly sunk in.

Waking on Thursday morning to gale-force winds, lashing rain and a sick feeling in the stomach (and a toothache in my case, for added woe) was bad enough, but when every radio show led with the heinous cheating of Henry it really struck home just how badly we'd been stitched up by FIFA and the French.

Liveline was filled with tales of caterwauling childer whose wide-eyed dreams of a future in FIFA's 'Fair Play' paradise were dashed to dust by the sinister digits of the France captain's left hand, while even world-class politicians such as Brian Cowen and Dermot Ahern added their considerable clout to the clamour for a replay.

In all likelihood that isn't going to happen but, as ever, there could be certain ways in which we can extract a spiteful revenge on the wrongdoers.

Now, were the situations reversed and it had been, say, Robbie Keane who'd pulled a sly one on the ref's blindside, then the Guinness would have been flowing in the streets of Paris as irate Frenchmen set about systematically trashing any symbol of Irishness they could get their hands on, but we're a more restrained lot, as evidenced by the fact that 15,000 of us didn't leave the stadium in St Denis a smouldering ruin on Wednesday night.

The first option would be to boycott any product which Thierry Henry endorses, even though Gillette have insisted that his actions on Wednesday won't affect their dealings with him -- perhaps they're intending to bring out a special hand cream for the Gallic market.

Taking a leaf from George W Bush's book (the one with all the nice pictures to colour in) we could begin by having chippers around the country start serving Cheating B*****d Fries to accompany our beloved fish and spiceburgers.

A full-on economic boycott of French produce may seem rather harsh but don't forget that it wasn't merely Henry's piece of larceny which demolished our nation's pride.

In the build-up the French were stereotypically cocky -- or should that be cockrelly? -- with their manager Raymond Domenech describing our side as nothing more than an England B-team, their midfielder Lassana Diarra then started crowing to Keith Andrews after the Croke Park game and it also emerged that they'd already booked their accommodation and training facilities for the tournament in South Africa before the first leg of the play-off even took place. The sheer Gaul of them.

So, in the light of such slights, I suggest we stop drinking their wine (the Italian stuff is much better anyway), forget about eating their food (ditto) and don't even consider going there on holidays. Faced with mustard it has to be a case of 'Dijon -- not on!' (opt for a stout English yeoman condiment like Colman's) and when presented with a cheeseboard we should have the gumption to declare 'Brie -- Not for me!' and 'Port Salut -- Feck you!'

This exercise should be about inflicting economic pain, not eating overpriced pain.

Thierry Henry: you've no idea what the Irish are capable of when aroused. And we haven't forgotten about 1798 either.

- George Byrne