IT'S a tale of two halves. Or, to be precise, of two outside –halves so precociously and prodigiously talented that when one suffered another career-threatening injury and the other made a seamless transition to the international stage, it was easy to label Jonny Wilkinson as the past of England rugby and Danny Cipriani as its future.

Yet last week's England squad announcement suggests that the former, despite a potentially compromising move to play for Toulon in the French championnat, is the present, while the latter, despite having a metal plate removed from his ankle to confirm a complete return to fitness, is not.

England manager Martin Johnson has said he is picking on form – yet since dislocating his knee cap last November Wilkinson has had no form to speak of, while Cipriani's performances in a full season with Wasps earned him strong consideration for the Lions as well as the consolation prize of a summer tour with England's second string.

Johnson has also spoken out strongly against players moving to France – and James Haskell, Tom Palmer and Jamie Noon are bound to feel that their demotion from the squad, as well as the exclusion of Brive–based Andy Goode and Steve Thompson, may have something to do with their decisions to ply their trade on the other side of the Channel.

But Wilkinson has survived the perceived cull of French-based players. Once again, it would seem, there is one rule for some players and quite another for the man whose dropped goal won England the World Cup nearly six years ago.

That November night changed the face of English rugby forever. It irrevocably changed the life of its most celebrated participant.

But it had no effect whatsoever on the essential Jonny Wilkinson. Interviewing him the day after the World Cup final in 2003, I found him as shy, self-effacing, eager to please and as anxious to stress the strength of the collective as he was when he first exploded onto the England scene as a teenager.

At the next World Cup, despite his status as the most famous rugby player on the planet, despite a celebrity status that had rewarded him with wealth, advertising contracts and the persistent attentions of the paparazzi, he was singing from the same hymn-sheet.

All he ever wanted was to play the best rugby he could for whichever team decided to pick him.

He hated the glorification of the goal-kicker, the hero-worship of the individual, his status as a sex symbol to millions of women, and the lack of privacy that his fame had brought. He was, still is, happiest to stay out of the spotlight.

The same has not been said of his successor. While Wilkinson wore the mantle of celebrity like a hair-shirt Cipriani, it seemed, was determined to make it into a designer suit.

A celebrity girlfriend, model looks, an outgoing personality and an affinity for the luxurious lifestyle of the rich and famous emphasised just how much Cipriani was the city to Wilkinson's country. But the difference in their attitudes to celebrity has also been interpreted as a difference in their attitudes to their sport.

While Wilkinson has always been depicted as the ultimate team-man, Cipriani has been portrayed as egocentric and arrogant.

A training-ground spat with club-mate Josh Lewsey, and rumours of heated arguments with the England coaching staff haven't helped.

And with Johnson enduring a rocky start to his first season as an international manager, the temptation for him to revert to the ruthless type of his captaincy of his Leicester and England days as a player was too great. Cipriani was made an example of.

And yet, by all accounts, the young Wasps player is as single-minded in his pursuit of excellence as ever was Jonny Wilkinson or, for that matter, Martin Johnson.

The first thing he did after having the plate removed from his ankle was to report to sprint guru Margot Wells for extra training.

Renowned, no-nonsense hard men like Sean Edwards speak in glowing terms of his dedication and his commitment to the team.

But Cipriani isn't Jonny Wilkinson and doesn't act like him – and Martin Johnson seems to find that hardest to forgive.

So while bending his rules for one, he's slapping the other in the face with another public put-down. That might have some short-term merit but in the long run, it's unlikely to be good for either player or for England.