Episode 12: Penultimate Shakeup

We learn never to do an episode when we're tired and cranky. The pod discusses The Rugby Championship, Canada v USA, and why words are hard sometimes.

A great week of rugby, even, somehow, for Canada's #onesquad. We look at as many international games as we can cram in to 60 minutes!

Finals and internationals galore, who can keep track of it all! Your loyal team of analysts at CBS! (Not that one, the other one.) We boldly take on the incidents, accidents, hints and allegations of the rugby world, without asking our beloved listeners for a penny. Or something like that.

John continues to try and get Dylan and JT to ask about his week. There's some heavy sighing for the ASMR heads out there. We cover the URC, Super Rugby, the Top 14, and teach JT how to say "Toulon."

JT tries to make a valid statistical point in face of people being idiots. Dylan explains modern windows. John drinks too much bourbon. Beware of Qataris bringing gifts, and get your own damn plane.

In which we discuss white water rafting, tacos and cheesecake, and dogs. And some rugby. This episode might contain the most and strangest background noises of any episode to date; the producer should be fired.

As Dylan tries to destroy the world of white water rafting, we are joined on the guest mic by Adam, who tries to destroy our podcast. We break down the Champions Cup Final, a game for the ages, and John takes the very dodgy argument that sometimes, stats don't matter.

We look at the leagues as they close out their regular seasons and some teams get ready for the playoffs, discuss the doom and gloom attitude of the chattering classes, and examine some of the best rugby nicknames.

We welcome Ashley, our very first guest, and also listen to the advice of Self-Help Singh. We determine that South Africa needs to move countries and that money makes the world go stupid.

What does an octopus have to do with the Champions Cup? Nothing, unless it's doing the tomahawk chop. And yes, we know it's Rob Baxter and Bordeaux Begles, dammit.