Mondeur, Mondeur, this has been fun, it really has, but boy oh boy, it's also been exhausting, in a sort of satisfying kind of way, much like a night out with Shanks, actually, or 80 minutes or more likely 50, 55 minutes in the rain and mud in the front row against Julian White.

We've made it to the last weekend of France, 23, and the two most successful nations ever to have played international rugby.

I've made the Paris on Saturday night to contest the World Cup final.

It's the proverbial irresistible force meeting the proverbial immovable object.

I don't know what that means.

I think it's a philosophical conundrum that's puzzled humanity's greatest thinkers since the dawn of time.

Bit like Stonehenge.

Right, let's find out what Topsy Ojo reckons about that and all other things

and life and politics. Topsy, it's 10 a.m. your time as we record. How was your 274th continental

breakfast of the tournament? Are you pastried out yet? I am completely pastried out. The

1000th breakfast was not as nice as the first. It's been a tour de quassants.

Yeah.

And what resembles scrambled eggs.

They're not eggs, mate.

They're not eggs.

They don't do eggs over there.

Unless you pay about 30 euros for them in a restaurant, I don't think they're eggs.

Yeah.

Yeah.

It's kind of powdered mush.

I'll tell you what I've found, though. I mean, you've been in France a lot more than me, obviously,

but every little brasserie I've popped into has been amazing.

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