The sizzling sausage. Studs on cement. Sport in the crisp wintry air. When the drawbridge

goes up, see the absolute state of it. You're with Pezz and here goes, it's the circus.

And in the blink of an eye, footy is back. Soap operas are back and weekly scheduling is back. Just how many agendas will

be set, just how many glasses of narrative will we drink each week? Who are the good guys and who

should we throw off a bridge? Get yourself in a leadership WhatsApp group. Throw on a hoodie,

ease into a rat's coffin because this is your season. Even if your team isn't any good, even it's a season to rebuild,

even if you know in a premiership window, you'll always have the prospect of green shoots. You never

know when the best Saturday of the season is on your doorstep. You'll always be keen to know

what was on the menu midweek. Who's being whispered and what's being whispered in the corridors

of power? Who's filthy and who's a disgrace? Who's being whispered and what's being whispered in the corridors of power?

Who's filthy and who's a disgrace? Who's lucky to get off and who was stiff?

We've got your covered on the circus because even though none of this matters,

don't let that stop you from your emotions being dictated by a squad of bloke

that don't even know you exist. Scream the loudest in a bloke with a whistle and they just might.

This is autumn.

This is the circus.

My name is Ian Higgins, Sam Perry.

How the bloody hell are you?

Mate, I'm ready.

Ready is what I am.

I'm ready to run the rule over things this season.

I'm ready to declare things a watch. I'm ready to apply the blowtorch,

...