Straight-talking Teessider Robbo and our resident Australian expert Davo go head to head, as the World Cup final draws closer.
G'day, Robbo - last time I had the pleasure of speaking to you, we were thrashing you Poms at the cricket.
Aye, that's right, but the old rugger's a bit different, mate.
And what makes you think that?
Well, neither of us have scored many tries, but your front five are about as strong as a bag of prawn crackers. You'll be going backwards at every scrum, sunshine.
Quit tugging my cord, mate - you might have beaten the French but forget Les Bleus - Les Green and Gold are gonna smash you black and blue on Saturday.
No chance! I tell you what, you've been baiting us ever since we got over there and it hasn't worked. The more you have a go, the harder we get - I'll tell you that for nowt. So just be nice for a change.
We might be nice to you after the game on Saturday, but not before.
By the way, what's the deal with Wilko and these bodyguards - are you trying to get 17 men on the field this time?
The reason Wilkinson's having a bodyguard is because he's very precious cargo. We know full well that we haven't got a chance in hell if he's not fit, so we're keeping him well wrapped up.
Mate, cargo gets dropped off eventually and Wilko will be dumped come Saturday.
Ha! The suggestion from your lot is that this lad Waugh's going to be in Johnny's face on Saturday, but I don't think he'll have a chance.
Psst! Tell Robbo to have a fiver on us
We'll camp in your half, with Wilkinson scoring drop goals and penalties, no problem.
So basically what you're saying is you're going to bore the crowd to death, you're going to bore Australia to death and bore millions of viewers to death?
Well there's no other way, is there? That's the name of the game in rugby union. It's a tedious, boring game if you play it properly.
We don't want to start spilling it out like Carlos Spencer and chucking it into Stirling Mortlock's big paws. We want to keep it nice and tight, mean and moody.
Yeah, whatever. Anyway, talking about boring people to tears - is that what's making Dallaglio cry before games - the sheer boredom?
There's a lot of fervour in that lad. He's finally set aside his Italian heritage. He's a true Brit now, Dall-agg-leo - as Gareth Chilcott calls him. Sorry about Chilcott, by the way, if anyone's had to listen to him over the years - the man's a prat.
Anyway, hand on heart, Davo - do you really think you can win?
Well my heart says yes, my head says maybe.
I'll tell you what I think - in me heart I think we're gonna win - and in me head, I think we're gonna win. I predict 20-9.
If you get 20, we'll get at least 21.
You reckon? Obviously 20's a bit of a long-shot as far as England are concerned because that will mean, by definition, that we will score a try.
Savour the moment of an England try
That's a bit ambitious! One thing I will say, England have certainly enjoyed a good crowd over here - it's been a bit too English for my liking and I reckon it'll be 50-50 on Saturday.
That'll be lovely. And you've turned us over so many times on our patch, it will be nice to get our own back for once.
I don't think it'll happen again for another generation, mind. So come on Jonny, Jonny, rubber Jonny Wilkinson.
Yes, you can't keep him down.
Well Robbo, I will wish England all the very best. Will you be having a few beers during the game? What is it, 9am Saturday your time?
Aye - I'll be three sheets to the wind before kick-off, mate.
Well I'll raise a glass to you after we've beaten you, Robbo!
I'm sure we'll pick over the bones at a later date, Davo.
All right mate.
All the best - you're going down!