With our four-day Winnipeg binge drawing tantalizingly, alarmingly close, there's only one way to get into the spirit - fuzzy reminiscing about drunken moments at Grey Cup parties, Grey Cup afterparties, and maybe even Grey Cup games. With gophergate dominating the nation's headlines, today's edition answers the age-old question: Can mascots talk?

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If you know us even a bit, you know we love us our mascots. So it goes without saying that we're thoroughly enjoying the epic battle that's ensued from the Stamps' decision to ban Gainer the Gopher from Sunday's West Division Semifinal. As if the outcry wasn't enough, now we've got Ralph Klein wading in - and really, what better cause to take up in your final days in office than opposing another city's rodent. But what intrigues and inspires us most is Gainer's television appearance in which he let a provincial minister answer an interviewer's questions, refusing to do anything more than stoically shake his head.

What does this have to do with a Grey Cup moment? Well, see, we've always assumed that the mascot code explicitly forbids them from talking, which makes sense - if you're looking at a giant gopher, dog or inflatable bird, it's a little disillusioning if it speaks in the voice of the poor bastard who's stuck inside. But as we learned at Grey Cup '04, not every mascot has Gainer's admirable self-control.

Allow us to once more set the scene. Having just exited the restroom at the Spirit of Edmonton party, we're moving through a narrow throughway when the entire Roughriders cheerleading squad comes through moving in the other direction, cornering us in one spot as we wait for them to pass.

We glance beside us, and standing there is a Ticats mascot - not Pigskin Pete, sadly, but the oversized cat known as Stripes. Our eyes meet, and we nod at each other in that manly way that men and felines always do when they're surrounded by a pack of tiny women in equally tiny skirts. "Hello," we say, because we can't think of anything else to say. "Hello," Stripes replies in a decidedly human voice. And as we do some more awkward nodding, we detect a hint of shame on Stripes' part, realizing that he had violated the mascots' sacred code.

Reassuringly, we're reminded the next day that some mascots have better restraint. Striding up to the Argo Bounce (R.I.P.), we attempt to goad him into talking. When he holds firm, we inform him that the Hamilton mascot talks. This earns us only a curt nod, and the Argo Bounce promptly makes his escape, on to thrill the masses with his silent charm. And we nod, this time in approval rather than lechery, knowing that this is a mascot.

This has been your Grey Cup moment.