"It is so easy to beat the English," a reporter from L'Equipe, France's biggest sports paper, tells me in the post-match press conference with a grin.

"You let them throw the ball around, play with style and vision, wait for them to give penalties away – and you kick your goals. Easy. The English are so ill-disciplined."

His smile breaks into a chuckle. The irony of a complete role reversal of 100 years of history has just been played out on a bizarre night at the Stade de France.

Recent French failures had cut to the core of fans and media alike. For all of their passion, verve and style in the past decade, Les Bleus had failed when it mattered most.

Second best in the World Cup semi-final in 2003 in Australia as Johnny Wilkinson booted them out 24-7 on a rainy night in Sydney.

Second best on home turf too four years later at the same stage of the rugby world's biggest tournament as England shocked the hosts 14-9.

England then beat them in the Six Nations in Paris 24-13 in 2008 and thumped them 34-10 at Twickenham in last year's tournament.

For all of the air of expectancy circulating around the streets of Paris on the day of what they were calling "Le Crunch", the locals knew that history was against them.

England had always won the big game when it mattered through good organisation, pragmatism and rigid discipline. The passionate, fiery Gallics would always let the tension of the moment get to them.

"Losing to the English is terrible," Yves Bournaire, 34, an estate agent from Paris told me in a French rugby bar before kick-off. "It is like losing your girlfriend to your brother.

"It is painful enough losing her in the first place but to lose her to your brother gives you pain like you have never known before.

"We (French) like to play with style and what you call 'sexy rugby'. To lose to a side like England who usually play such boring rugby is always too hard to take."

Yves would have had a good night in the end but what he made of the stylish, exciting England performance would have been anyone's guess.

With Ben Foden and Chris Ashton adding real pace, Mark Cueto looking dangerous and Toby Flood pulling all the right strings, England played a stereotypical French game – even with a host of penalties thrown in for good measure.

The French, on the other hand, were traditionally English in their approach to winning a must-win fixture – pragmatic, keeping tight possession and kicking ball away in their own half. It was no-risk rugby for the ultimate goal of victory.

Les Bleus did so much kicking that, midway through the second half with a first Grand Slam in six years 20 minutes away, their own crowd started booing them. You see, for the French, it is not just about winning. It is about winning with style and expression – especially in Paris.

The French capital is style personified. People dress immaculately, even when they nip to the shops for a baguette. They express themselves with their hands when they talk and the food is so good, you cannot buy a bad meal anywhere.

Even my late-night kebab on the way back from the game tasted like it had been cut from a slow-roasted lamb shank.

If it is not done with style here, it is not done.

The 12.06am Line 13 Metro train from Saint Denis Porte de Paris to Montparnasse Bienvenue is rammed with rugby fans in French colours after the final whistle.

The carriage should be rocking to the sound of a nation celebrating the ultimate prize in northern hemisphere rugby.

But there are no songs and few smiles. You would think they had lost the game. Somebody starts singing the first bars of their rousing national anthem 'Les Marseillaise', but only a couple of people join in and it ends abruptly in semi-embarrassed giggling.

People chat among themselves with plenty of raised eyebrows and pursed lips. They do not know how to feel. It is a strange atmosphere.

Someone decked head-to-toe in blue regalia leaves his friend at a subway stop called Miromesnil with a half-hearted 'Vive la France'.

His mate mutters: "Oui, vive la France."

The doors shut and the man left on the train turns to another friend: "Les Anglais! Pah!" he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Even when they lose, it feels like they have won."