2 Drink Minimum

2 Drink Minimum is a comedian roundtable that treats every story as raw material for the next joke. Mike Ward, Pantelis and Chris Ramsay are the names at the center of it, and a regular the table calls Poseidon keeps turning up in the banter. Nobody is precious about introductions. In one New Year's episode the opening roll call falls apart over who was just called Pantelis and who was called Poseidon, and someone at the table is accused of being drunk already. That is the rhythm of the whole thing. A story starts, someone challenges a detail, and the tags keep coming until the original point is long gone. A date story from that same episode gets derailed by an argument over whether five foot ten really counts as tall, and the woman in question ends up compared to Andre the Giant. The tangents run wide. One conversation searches for a way to call someone cheap without landing on frugal. Another zooms in on a boxing title belt on screen and tries to identify the fighters pictured, with Muhammad Ali, Jake Paul and a mistaken Tyson Floyd all entering the discussion. A round of cheers for Mike Ward leads into a vodka tasting, then a roll call of comedians with their own drinks, Ron White's tequila among them. Even the setting gets roasted: a year-end episode is recorded in what the panel calls a millionaire's lair, where the cameras apparently refuse to zoom. Guests pull up chairs as well, among them Peter Bowen and Preach, the latter introduced on air as a YouTube legend. The local flavor is strong. Montreal comes up by name, sponsors include a Quebec company, and one ad read points to products that are hard to find in Quebec. Sponsor reads get the same loose treatment as everything else, and one mattress plug detours into a joke about Poseidon being kicked off mattresses. News gets handled like gossip: a story out of New York about a religious sect becomes fodder for the table, and the jokes do not hold back. Sign-offs lean toward live comedy, including a plug for a roast battle league at the Third Floor comedy club. The show never stops to explain its nicknames, in-jokes or half-finished stories, and it expects the listener to keep up. The humor is crude, the pace is quick, and the default mood stays dry even when the material gets outrageous.