I always thought that you couldn't score an own goal in rugby. Danny Cipriani has put me right on that one. Not once, but three times. Cipriani, in the course of six internationals, has become rugby's king of the oggies.

A charged-down kick is a devastating event in rugby. In an instant the direction of the play is reversed, and in rugby play flows one way at a time, without the constant shifts and alterations of football. In rugby a dramatic change in direction changes the match. Both the play and the game turn on a sixpence before your eyes.

Cipriani does it again and again. He did it on Saturday against South Africa, he did it a fortnight before that against the Pacific Islanders. He did it against Italy last season, as he won his second cap. It's getting a bit of a habit.

On Saturday Cipriani's supposed clearance kick was charged down by his opposite number, Ruan Pienaar, the South Africa fly half, who then jogged home for the score. It wasn't the only kick that hit bodies instead of flying away from his boot that afternoon, either, merely the most devastating.

Cipriani has played six times for England, four as a starter. That's an own goal every other game, and he was only a replacement in the first two. What might he have done with a full 80 minutes in every match? It doesn't bear thinking about.

All right, he's young, he's 21, he's wet behind the ears, he has huge talent. The match he played against Ireland last year - his first as a starter - was a thing of beauty and thrilling promise. But all the same, you can't hand out a free try every second game you play.

If the first charge-down try was a misfortune and the second looked to be carelessness, how shall we describe the third? Surely this is indicative of a profound problem with the basic techniques of the game. How do you concede a charge-down? You take too long over your kick, you don't see the other fellow coming, you thought he was a bit farther off, or maybe not quite so quick. In other words, you fail to be aware of the events unfolding before you - the shifting and colliding bodies and the gaps between them.

The third charge-down seems to imply that Cipriani lacks an understanding of time and space, and that is the basic requirement of any fly half, most particularly if you are supposed to be a fly half of genius.

Watching Cipriani receive the ball in a kicking position is like being at a pantomime: we can see bad things happening in slow motion, but instead of shouting “look behindjer!” we must instead beg Cipriani just to look in front. But, alas, he doesn't; seven points, thank you very much.

OK, one error is forgivable in any match, especially for a tyro. But there wasn't just one error. Cipriani's tactical kicking was inept. The areas of failure here include: (1) when to kick, (2) where to kick, and (3) how to execute the kick. True, he had two brilliant moments against Australia the previous weekend, spotting a gap and a mismatch with all the time-and-space understanding you could hope for. But there was nothing on Saturday, nothing at all that might be used for an on-the-other-hand analysis.

In fact, he was lucky not to complete the full set of self-imposed disasters and throw an intercept try; he was a fingertip away from there as it was. By the end, Cipriani was tharn. That, as Watership Down tells us, is the state of a rabbit when caught in the headlights of a car.

Martin Johnson faced up afterwards, with all his plans in ruins at his feet, all his adventurousness looking like folly, all his courage looking like a liability. “They're still our best players,” the England team manager said. “We need to stand up and be counted against the best team in the world next week.”

So Cipriani's rehab begins with the All Blacks. That's unless Johnson drops him, or, more likely, switches him inside and plays Toby Flood at No10. Certainly, Cipriani won't do as he is. The entire England team were overwhelmed by the superb defence of the world champions, but if the fly half is making gross errors and consistently taking wrong options, it is only fair to take a hard look at him. Cipriani got the glory against Ireland, now he knows that every coin has a reverse side.

Do you damage his confidence further by dropping or demoting him? Or you do risk shattering his confidence for ever by playing him against the All Blacks? Confidence is the key in all forms of sport, but in those positions when judgment comes into play so often, confidence is essential and dismayingly fragile.

Cipriani had the mother of all nightmares. So what did he do afterwards? As Radio 5 Live listeners heard, he went straight off to a corporate gig for pocketful of spare cash. I'd sooner he'd gone to a nightclub.