Maybe it was a David Mellor thing. The Tory minister who used to wear his Chelsea jersey when he was in the saddle.

Maybe that was when all the Leinster supporters used to wear their Leinster jerseys.

But, after talking to a large number of them, they seemed to have travelled in expectation.

One of them asked me, 'what would Leinster have to score to win?'. I reckoned somewhere in the region of 40 points, because I reckoned they would ship somewhere in the region of the mid-30s. To be honest, I was pretty bearish on Leinster and I reckoned they wouldn't even get half that total. But with some of the talent they have, you could never discount them.

So what sort of a Leinster team would show up on the day? Would it be a Ladyboy 15, or would it be a continuation of the performance which saw them annihilate Bath. I thought Bath were a poor side, but they're in this month's semi-finals and now, so are Leinster. Ray Davies of The Kinks sang a little song, "When I left home just a week before, and I never ever kissed a woman before, Lola smiled and took me by the hand, she said little boy, gonna make you a man. Well, I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am and I bet I'm a man. So is Lola, Lo-lo-loLola. Le-le-le-Leinster."

Leinster gave a manful performance yesterday, to produce their finest-ever victory in a truly sensational match.

And whatever about the exploits of Munster, I don't think they could ever match the type of quality and the level of determination that Leinster displayed yesterday.

It was an imperfect performance and Toulouse were not at their best yesterday. But when you analyse, they weren't allowed to perform.

Toulouse are a front-foot side and their fluency and consistency is garnered by their ability to flow and go forward, to run hard and play with width and from deep.

But they could never outflank or run directly through a Leinster defence that was truly regal in its meanness and composure. Leinster always looked comfortable when Toulouse ran at them and although gaps appeared they were sealed pretty shortly.

The prime catalyst who generated vital momentum was Felipe Contepomi. He is a gem. His ability to think laterally and choose the unorthodox which, when it is completed, seemed the most obvious thing to do in the first place set doubts in Toulouse minds.

His immediate opposite number, Freddie Michalak, didn't have the sort of game which his team needed him to have. Michalak's control was poor and he managed not to get the best out of the line which was brimming with enthusiasm from the first but which, by the end of the match, was seething with frustration.

Contepomi ran at him with alacrity and Michalak had been figured out. He did not have Yannick Nyanga holding his hand in the pocket.

And Michalak got flustered with the amount of defending he had to do. He was only there for the pretty stuff. The beginning of the end for Michalak was a monster hit by Jamie Heaslip. Leinster conceded a penalty but it was worth it, because Michalak's body language told you everything about how he felt and it soon permeated into his team mates. Not only could this Leinster team defend, but they could open them up when least expected.

The truly magnificent Keith Gleeson gave a performance which guaranteed his place on the plane to New Zealand this summer. Gleeson thrived on the ground, swallowed up acres of space and put in huge tackles against physicallysuperior ball-runners. Jamie Heaslip, also on the back of that performance, will travel to New Zealand and Australia.

Toulouse and their incredibly noisy following were stunned in the 25th minute by an audacious and skilful move off a Cameron Jowitt take at the tail. The match was up for grabs at that stage but it was the audacity, the fingertip brilliance and the wonderful interaction with Contepomi involved twice, and the aggressive shortshoulder interventions by Shane Horgan primarily, and eventually Brian O'Driscoll which stuck a knife into the heart of Toulouse.

How would they react?

They threatened Leinster's line on numerous occasions but there never seemed to be the conviction to actually nail the score. Leinster were suffering grievously at kick-off time and more often than not conceded the initiative right back to Toulouse with the simple ability to take the ball in the air. And their line-out creaked a little bit. It was the only thing that was keeping Toulouse in the game.

Leinster were in charge.

And they weathered a concerted 15-minute onslaught where you would normally expect them to crumble.

Denis Hickie's try was an astonishing piece of counterattacking bravery and real skill. And they did brilliantly not to panic when they suddenly realised that they had Hickie running against Fabien Pelous and Yannick Bru and the interchange with Gordon D'Arcy, although outwardly simple, could easily have been mucked up.

That got Leinster away, and as the game opened up, it was Leinster who benefited. I had to pinch myself after Horgan scored Leinster's fourth try.

At that stage, Toulouse had not scored a try, and to see them behind their own line, dejected, was something I thought I'd never see in a match against Leinster.

Leinster's road-map of ambition seemingly has no turn-offs. A terrible beauty has been born.