Crow Boy: So Joey Johns is on the gear. Who would have known? I just thought his penchant for rubbing up against sweaty randoms and running around like an Energizer Bunny was a love for rugby league.

Nugget: Poor little “Goey”. He is just a victim of circumstance. It’s not his fault that drug-carrying “strangers” are drawn to him like fat kids to an unattended bathtub full of chicken gravy.

C’mon, Andrew, a man whose career was prematurely brought to a halt by a spine injury should be more careful sticking his neck out in such a way.

CB: I think all the pointers were there – his initials, for starters. JJ (that’s his disco code). There are ties there to the character of the same name from “Good Times”. Joey was “dynamite” on many, many occasions.

N: While the kid has shown poorer judgment than any lady who still considers shoulder pads an essential part of an outfit, is it possible that we are being a little hard on “Goey”. I mean, the man has had to spend the last 18 months of his life with Brian Smith.

My God, after three minutes of Smith’s crap in a press conference, I’m ready to mainline more junk than the entire cast of Trainspotting.

CB: Yep, correct weight. We all have our guilty pleasures. I’m happy to fess up that I enjoy a good comeuppance.

For example, when Fremantle’s Jeff Farmer was recently sidelined looking more dazed and confused than Craig Gower in a pants shop, I cheered and delivered a Sara-Marie bum dance.

St Kilda’s Steven Baker should have been given a tickertape parade and Warney’s mobile phone contact list.

N: Oh yeah, we have all got our dirty little indulgences. Let’s be honest, punters.

Nobody, I repeat nobody, watches surfboat racing to see five magnificently fit and highly trained athletes ply their trade.

It is solely to watch a handful of blokes, with budgie smugglers buried up their asses, get piffed around on large waves like “Wilson” the volleyball at the end of Cast Away.

CB: A bit of biffo in motor racing also never goes astray. Who wants to see blokes successfully make it around the track? There’s a reason why the demolition derby is the final event on a speedway card. They leave the best until last.

N: Spot on, champ. The career of Formula One dunce Mark “S*** I’ve blown another gearbox” Webber could be vastly extended if he gave up on the serious stuff and he took his spot on the grid at Monza this weekend in one of those little clown cars where the doors fly off when it collides with anything.

When discussing guilty little vices, little Nugget is quick to remind me about beach volleyball. “Oooh, I watch it because they are world-class athletes at the top of their fields.”

Bull, it’s hot chicks in lycra, displaying more camel toe than a race day in Dubai, diving onto sand and hugging each other after each point.

CB: Yes, they’re athletes and I have great respect for their athletic prowess. I, too, am happy to test the theory that you can bounce 20-cent pieces off their rear ends.

Hey, those things are tighter than the elastic on Amanda Vanstone’s undies.

I’m also happy to put something else on the table while we’re bearing our souls. Lycra and women’s sport are two of the greatest concepts to ever meet. It’s like Sonny Bill Williams and a toilet cubicle – its raw, intriguing and just plain sensual.

N: It’s funny that you have mentioned Sonny Bill there and his love of a public toilet. The kid is a rugby league genius and he has spent more time in a cubicle this year than the strangely saucy, full-figured lady from the H&R Block ads.

Anyone who says they have not scanned YouTube for any grainy footage of SBW attempting a Karma Sutra grapple tackle on Candice Falzon is lying.

CB: I’d like to see him have a crack at the sultry vixen who heads the EasyFind Guide commercials.

But when it comes to having a crack, there’s none better than Warwick Capper. I’m looking forward to seeing his new adult flick. If it’s anything like his footy career, there’ll be outfits too tight, some climbing over backs with too much use of the hands and when it comes to scoring, he’ll struggle.

N: But you know there will be no lack of behinds.