The king of Pau impresses, Bordeaux go red with revenge and USAP carry on (and on, and on) their enforced points diet. New weekend, new dramas and new lessons. This was round 7 of the Top 14 and, if you had to sum up the mood, it was a bit like a home aperitif that turns sour for the guests but ends with a smile on the barmen’s faces.

Pau – Toulouse : 30 – 26

At Le Hameau, Pau made the Toulouse giant wobble in a finish worthy of an adventure novel. 30-26, the score of a full-blown heist, signed off on the hooter by a furious try from Jimi Maximin, propelled by a Béarn maul as stubborn as a farmer facing a hailstorm. Toulouse, sure of themselves, were quietly leading before the ground opened up beneath their studs. Pau, carried by a crowd at boiling point, played with heart, sweat and a dash of cheek. The Red and Blacks, for their part, saw their velvet rugby turn into a velcro nightmare. The moral is simple: never believe a Béarnais has said his last word, especially when it is raining courage.

Bayonne – Clermont : 44 – 17

At Jean-Dauger, Bayonne turned Clermont into a doormat on amphetamines. And that is only because they were being polite. The Basques rolled out champagne rugby while the Auvergnats sipped fizzy water. And the Volvic may well have been off. Capilla opened the ball, Carreras danced twice, and Clermont attempted a desperate slow dance without success. The Bayonne players flew like hungry seagulls, the Clermont players defended like parasols in the wind. Attacking bonus point by half-time, a permanent Mexican wave in the stands and a predatory smile on the faces of the Basque staff. Clermont, meanwhile, go home with their bags full… but no points. In short, kittens lost a long way from their Michelin. Bayonne are riding the wave, Clermont are sinking with elegance, Titanic style, but without the soundtrack.

La Rochelle – Montauban : 54 – 19

At Deflandre, under the raindrops of the Stade Rochelais ground, Montauban decided to put to sea… without oars, their backs to the lighthouse. Inevitably, the tide brought everyone back to reality: “oil-slicked”! The fact remains that Montauban keep taking hidings on the road and are still struggling to land a first win at home. As for La Rochelle? An afternoon spent boarding the enemy ship again and again, without damaging the caravel or the rum barrels in the hold. In short: La Rochelle turned their stadium into an attacking water park. Montauban, for their part, will be looking for their floats on a gentler wave next time, or at least on one without a torrent.

Perpignan – Bordeaux : 17 – 29

Under the defiant sun of Aimé-Giral, Perpignan thought they were in for a bullfight, but it was Bordeaux holding the muleta. The Catalans, once again the fall guys, watched Bordeaux go by like TGVs on a clear track. Ten minutes: that was all UBB needed to plant the first try, just to nail their colours to the mast – burgundy red, obviously. The Catalans tried to roar, but between knock-ons and missed tackles, their rugby sounded more castanets than thunder. Bordeaux, in the end as untroubled as a canelé in the sun, conducted the score like an orchestra leader in flip-flops: three tries, zero panic, plenty of style.

Toulon – Racing : 45 – 21

The wind blew hard on Mayol, very hard. So hard that Racing seemed to take off whenever Toulon attacked. Toulon started like a conductor in full flow: several finely chiselled tries, a mill grinding down the opposition defence and tangible dominance. This year, word even has it that Pierre Mignoni’s players are catapulted from the navy aircraft carriers in the harbour. Racing therefore took gusts for 80 minutes. And it was also a chance to (re)discover a 43-year-old youngster at work, who “shut a few mouths” after a try in the style of a bull on synthetic testosterone. Racing, who are nonetheless showing “fine progress” – depending on where you set the bar – saw their ambitions melt like snow in the sun: a match to forget (or to turn into a soul-searching retreat).

Castres – Stade Français : 29 – 24

At Pierre-Fabre, Castres welcomed Stade Français with the enthusiasm of a wild boar sniffing out a truffle: determined, powerful and a touch feral. A win for the Tarn side in a high-tension, high-volume match. Right from the off, Théo Chabouni thought he was in a superhero video: a try in the 8th minute, a second in the 15th, Paris still stuck on the ring road. But the Parisians, stung, still set about weaving up the queues of traffic on a restricted scooter. In the second half, Castres gritted their teeth, clenched their fists and tightened their tackles. Geoffrey Palis threw in his acrobatic try, as if to remind everyone that the Tarn house is not for sale. Paris pushed until the final hooter, but Castres held on, scrapped and closed the argument, like good old stubborn Gauls. A lively, abrasive, electric match. In short, rugby the Castres way: no filter, no make-up, but plenty of panache.

Montpellier – Lyon : 35 – 13

Montpellier turned Lyon into an extra in their own demonstration. A scoreline as clean as a living room before the mother-in-law arrives. As early as the 4th minute, in fact, Lenni Nouchi let himself into the in-goal area as if he lived there, slippers on. Then Piccardo, Uelese and Tambwe piled up the tries with the elegance of a well-organised car boot sale. LOU spent the evening looking for the way out of the maze. Two flashes from Wainiqolo and Ioane gave the illusion of a revolt, but it was just a sparkler in a storm. The Montpellier defence, for its part, shut everything: curtains, shutters and maybe even the fridge door. At the end, MHR were celebrating with a whistle on their lips, while the Lyon players counted their missed tackles and the miles of coach journey waiting for them on the way home. In short, Montpellier roared, Lyon miaowed.