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Good evening one and all. Here to supply your recappy goodness for the evening is me, Anvil. And why is that, I hear you ask. Well, the answer is very simple. Nobody else would touch The Great American Bash with a ten foot bargepole. Fuck, if that ten foot bargepole had a fifteen foot bargepole superglued to the end, Sean still wouldn’t give The Great American Bash a poke.

And so the board members sat in conference, and asked, ‘who here in The Wrestling Fan can handle rubbish? Who on the staff THRIVES on crap? Who here could deliver something REALLY ANGRY from what will probably be the worst PPV of the year? And of course, my name was dragged into the whole mess. Lucky me.

So tonight, I will be reviewing The Lame American Bash for you, the ‘wrestling tradition’ that has been traditional for, ooh, a good four years now. Not quite Christmas, is it?

Santa:- And what would you like this year?
Kid:- I wanna Tonka Truck. I wanna big wed Tonka truck.
Santa:- Weeeell, you are getting… The Great American Bash! TADAA!
Kid:- …..fuck you.

A quick promo video plays for the two championship matches. Note that I said two there as opposed to three. Just two. And then we are off to ringside. Your hosts for tonight are the usual bunch, as ECW has now officially replaced the Spanish announce team. Tough shit for those Spaniards who now HAVE to listen to Michael Cole, eh? Meh, it makes more sense for the ECW table to get bombed in every PPV anyway. It totally matches their TV ratings. BADUMCHA!

Matt Hardy vs. MVP.

Matt Hardy comes out first looking suave in a baggy black shirt that he stole from a hobo on the way to the ring. Hey, it doesn’t matter, Charlie Haas isn’t on the card tonight. And then it is time for the clock to start ticking and THE INFLATABLE BOUNCY CASTLE OF DOOM to appear, and out comes MVP. And what the FUCK has he been smoking in that thing? I mean, the amount of smoke that comes out of that thing would have Bob Marley saying, ‘damn, yo smoka da gangEEEEE’, or something less racially insensitive. Probably the least sensible place to smoke, an inflatable bouncy castle, but hey, this is the same guy who is in the public eye as a role model for children and has MALCOLM X tattood on his left titty. Twat.

So, the match is underway, and the two start strong and basic, trading wristlocks, hammerlocks and the likes. MVP is thrown to the outside, and Matt does that basketball thing that MVP does, the ‘swish’ or whatever it is. I dunno. If I was a little more black I’d be able to tell you. Matt Hardy with a cross body to the outside, and then takes the action back to the ring. Loads more armlocky things and test-of-strengths. Hogan might not have been in a WWE ring for a while, but he’s there in spirit tonight.

Hogan:- Workrate? Aint that just another word for ‘fee’, brutha?
They both throw some head butts, and MVP actually loses! A BLACK MAN losing a head butt competiton! Next you’ll be telling me that he doesn’t come from an island and that he wears shoes! They trade more moves and blows and this all seems a little, I dunno, uncohesive. These two had a better match on Smackdown, and goddamit, I paid for this! Well, actually, I didn’t because I live in the UK and I get it for free… what was I saying? Oh yes. FUCK YOU AMERICA.

Nice little combo sees the Twist Of Fate reversed into the Playmaker reversed AGAIN into a Side Effect. Unfortunately, silly Matt Hardy went for the cover. And EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER knows that the Side Effect never finishes a match, regardless of the fact that every time Matt hits it, Michael Cole shouts, ‘That should do it!’. No it shouldn’t, you stupid rat-child. Go back to shutting up now.

Eventually, MVP hit’s a HUGE running kick which knocks Matt for a loop, and he hits his head on the bottom rope as he goes down. He is so dazed that he doesn’t even take the Platmaker crisply, but that is enough to finish this one.

Winner:- MVP.

Now let me explain my rating system, a little item called the Angrinometer. It is a tiny little fictional contraption that shows JUST HOW MUCH wrestling pisses me off. If a match only annoys me slightly, it gets a one. If a match pisses me off to the point in which I want to remove my soul and run over it with a lawnmower, it gets a FURIOUS FIVE. And that, my friends, is obviously a bad thing. The lower the rating, the better the match. Simple enough, unless you live in a trailer with your mum, dad, grammy and extended family, including Little Cousin Earl who watches you when you have your weekly wash-down with a bucket and a sponge.

That match gets a THREE. The match from SD, the FREE match, was actually better. Which pisses me off.

TARD GRISHAM in the back with Dusty Rhodes. Great, that’s what the Great American Bash needs. Khali in a main event and Todd Grisham interviewing people. All it needs now is Funaki, a strand of E Coli and a phone call from the girl I fucked last week starting, ’I have some bad news’, and we have my very worst nightmare.

Dusty Rhodes cuts a good promo about Randy having no respect and how he is going to knock respect into him. And then he…. Erm…. Well, he MOOOOS at the camera. I’m not kidding. He MOOOOOS. I’m calling it first! Dusty is going to start up his own stable called, well, The Stable! It’ll include Dusty, Terry Funk, fucking Mantaur and Vickie Guerrero. Because every stable needs a horse.
Cruiserweight Open.

And now, for the good old fashioned Cruiserweight ‘throw a match together because we could give a fuck about building an actual feud’ match. Your contestants are Jimmy Wang Yang, Jamie Noble, Chavo Guerrero, Shannon Moore and… OH GOD… SAY IT ISN’T SO… FUNAKI! AGGGH! If anybody rings, if ANYBODY rings, say I am ill! Say I have E Coli poisoning or something.

The match starts off as a big clusterfuck, but then everybody turns their attention to Chavo, and throw him out of the ring. And if you listen very carefully, you can hear McMahon say somewhere, ‘shame theyu didn’t do that over the border. Fucking Mexicans’.

Lots of bodies flying around everywhere. Michael Cole demonstrates his uselessness by stating, ‘Anybody is eligible for this cruiserweight open… as long as they are a cruiserweight.’ Ohh, they have to be a CRUISERWEIGHT! I can just see Big Daddy V walking dejectedly back to his dressing room. Go back to the School Of Stating The Obvious’ Cole, you twat.

More things happen. Hey, if you want a concise review, all you are gonna get is lots of jokes loosely strung together by a PPV. Anyway, they run a HUGE Tower Of Doom spot… with three men. So not so much a tower of doom, as a Dorm of complete apathy. Noble hits his head quite hard here and OUT COMES HORNSWAGGLE with a ‘tadpole splash’ on Noble for the win. I am not kidding.

Winner:- Hornfuckingswoggle.

Hornswoggle stands on the SD announce table and celebrates with JBL, whilst Noble longs for the days of blindfold matches with Nidia. Hornswoggle holds the PRESTIGIOUS title in his tiny, deformed hands. If JBL stood up he would STILL be fucking taller than Hornswoggle. We always said that the Cruiserweight title was worthless, but little did we know that one day, one day the title would be held by somebody who is DWARFED BY IT.

Angrinometer:- A big fucking FOUR for the ridiculous nonsensical finish.

And right on cue, after something so ridiculous that it made Bastion Booger look like a well developed character, a TRIPLE H vignette appears on our screen! Good timing Trips! That sure wasn’t planned and executed to make you look like a great alternative. Oh HELL no.

And now, a Bobby Lashley vignette. Jesus Christ, Vince, we have already bought the PPV (I didn’t need to. FUCK YOU.) You don’t need to keep selling us the main event. That’s like telling me how scrumptious an apple is after I gave already taken a bite out of it and bit a fucking worms head off in the process. Apparently, Bobby’s whole life was building up to this night.

Agent:- But don’t you think that understates the importance of the ECW Title just a little??
Vince:- ……What ECW Title?

Fucking hell.

The Sandman vs. Carlito:- Singapore Cane on a Pole Match.

The Sandman comes out without his beer. That means he’s looking at the ceiling tonight folks. Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler talk about The Sandman’s days as a manual labourer as if they will be the deciding factor in this match. ‘OH NO! THE SANDMAN ONCE TILED A BATHROOM AND HELPED PAINT THE OUTSIDE WALL OF A HOUSE! I AM TRULY DOOMED!!’

Carlito enters and spits apple into The Sandmans face, who is of course infuriated. To show this anger and humiliation, as soon as the bell rings, he LAYS into Carlito with a….. collar and elbow tie-up. I mean what the FUCK!? I know that when I have a fight after a few too many pints, my first instinct is to INTERLINK ARMS WITH MY OPPONENT. What heaving, throbbing bullshit.

The psychology of the whole match was that each man was desperate to get the kendo stick, and would stop each other at any cost. Unfortunately, this meant basically that they would try for the pole, and then get shoved off, one after the other, in turn, for the whole damn match. One bright spot saw Carlito attempt the handspring elbow, only to see The Sandman duck out of the way. This hurt Carlito for long enough for The Sandman to retrieve the cane. And I rub my hands together with glee and say to myself, ‘this is where the action begins!’ At that exact moment, Carlito ducks a wild swing with the stick and hit’s the Backstabber for the ‘One Two Three’. He then leaves. Nobody gets hit with the kendo stick. Well, that was the most fucking pointless gimmick match I have ever seen.

Winner:- Carlito

Angrinometer:- A FURIOUS FIVE. I mean what in the blue hell was that!? AGAIN, we saw more on Raw than they gave us on the PPV, which of course brings me back to the question, ‘why would ANYONE in their right mind buy this tripe?’

TARD GRISHAM in the back with Randy, and I’m happy to see him. Really. After a singopore cane match in which nobody used a singopore cane, Todd is a breath of fresh air.

And now I’m over that. You can stop breating now, Todd.

Randy says that today is Shawn Michaels birthday, but Shawn doesn’t know because Randy scrambled his brains. Heh, funny. Randy promises to do the same to Rhodes tonight. Now seriously, Randy Orton is the ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD who would claim a HEADLOCK and a KICK as his signature manoeuvres! I mean, what’s next? Will Randy lay claim to the DEVESTATING RIGHT HANDED OPEN FISTED PUNCH? Or the UNBELIEVABLE EXIT THE RING FOR A TIME OUT AND RETURN BEFORE THE TEN COUNT!? Unbelievable.

Candice Michelle vs. Melina:- Women’s Title.

Now I knew when I agreed to this that I couldn’t just do what I do with the SD recaps and completely ignore matches I don’t give a fuck about. And boy do I regret it now. Candice enters to what Jim Ross calls a ‘tremendous ovation’. To me it sounded like three adolescent boys cheering, but what do I know? Tremendous ovation my arse. Maybe he just meant a different word? Perhaps he said that Candice has tremendous ovulation? If so, I expect to see Candice do some GREAT COLOUR tonight.

This match sees Melina carry Candice to another passable encounter, with Melina working the majority of the match, tying Candice up in the ropes for that choke of hers, and working a sleeper, which Candice broke with a jawbreaker. At some point, Candice hits what Lawler refers to as a ‘Ricky The Dragon Steamboat like cross body’. I believe that is blasphemy. Somebody please fire him. Candice then goes for the Unprettier. NO! If you take away Melina’s looks you are only left with her personality! And that would be devastating for us all! Melina reverses it, but Candice holds onto a side headlock and hit’s the weakest looking standing bulldog in the history of time. That finishes for the three.

Winner:- Candice.

Jerry Lawler says that the move is called the Candy Wrapper, and states that Candice, ‘hit her with the candy wrapper’. And I think that sums up how weak it looked. Although she could have called it the ‘Feather Duster’, or the ‘Fluffy Pillow’ and accomplished the same effect.

Angrinometer:- Three. I expected shit, I got shit, I still didn’t appreciate that I was given shit.

Matt and Jeff are talking backstage. Matt tells Jeff to stay focused this evening. Cue Candice Michelle and sexy music. Wow, if this was completely unplanned, that is one amazing coincedence. She then seductively pours water over herself, and the camera goes into SLO MO mode. Now the camera seems to be fucking up in this completely random and unplanned backstage episode? How bizarrely appropriate! Matt and Jeff look on in amazement as this totally random and not at all scripted episode draws to a close. Cue Ron Simmons, who JUST HAPPENED TO BE NEARBY IN THIS COMPLETELY UNSCRIPTED EPISODE, and says, ‘damn.‘ Fucking hell, WWE don’t as much break the fourth wall as bulldoze it, grind it into dust and then roll it up for MVP to smoke in his bouncy castle.

Jeff Hardy vs. Umaga:- Intercontinental Title.

Jim Ross refers to Hardy as the Rainbow Haired Warrior. Alright.
THIS is a warrior
. THIS is a warrior. Dear god, THIS is a warrior. But I will never, ever accept that somebody associated with THIS could ever in a million years be a warrior. It’s just ridiculous.

Predictable start, Umaga mauls Jeff Hardy, hammering him into the ring apron and hitting a huge samoan drop on the inside. Jim Ross seems totally impressed with this, as if a) it takes agility to LIFT A MAN ON YOUR SHOULDERS and b) only samoans have this inate ability to LIFT PEOPLE ON THEIR SHOULDERS. Firemen all over the world are completely confused as to how to get those burn victims down those ladders. But not in Samoa. Ohhhh no.

Hardy continues to try and mount some offense, but Umaga catches him in a huge Sidewalk Slam. But how did he know how to do that!?! He isn’t a sidewalk!! Eventually, Umaga misses a diving head butt and Jeff takes full advantage, flying around hitting dropkicks and whispers in the wind willy nilly. He hit’s the Swanton for a two. Hardy then goes for the Twist of Fate, but no dice, and Umaga hit’s the super kick and the Spike for the win. Well, the Rainbow Haired Warrior looks pretty damn gay now, doesn’t he? Bad night for the Hardys, Candice aside.

Winner:- Umaga.

Angrinometer:- Two. Not great, but much better.

Cena’s turn for the video package treatment. Interesting that the package contains footage of Cena beating the CRAP out of Angle. No mention of the fact that Angle won the match though. Because that would be the TRUTH! And WWE cringe in the face of the truth! This is evident by the fact that nobody in the Dub is said to use steroids, and yet Snitsky is one big walking zit.
John Morrison vs. CM Punk:- That Other Title.

John Morrison enters to his new theme with his new hair, and instead of taking in the gimmick for the first time, instead I can’t help but think that he really has a case of the Renee Dupree going on in his pants. By that, I mean that he seems to have a semi, not that he actually has Renee Dupree in his pants. That would just be weird.

A good match ensues, with a display of basic wrestling that seems much cleaner than Matt and MVP earlier. Punk comes out on top with a slingshot suplex, and Morrison is looking shaky. CM Punk continues this role with some heavy impact blows, finishing off with a slapping clothesline. And I just wrote three sentences of review without a sarcastic, bitter comment! A personal best! Lets hope I can continue this role eh?

They brawl for a while, with Punk in position for a superplex, but hence, it was not to be, and Punk pushes Morrison flat onto his face, and CM Punk with the stiff kicks and a knee lift. Unfortunately the camera is in the PERFECT position to catch CM Punk slapping his knee as he ‘makes contact’. This, of course, disappoints millions of ‘independents fans’ worldwide who were convinced that CM Punk worked completely stiff. IT’S STILL A WORK YOU ASSHOLES. Anyway, this horrendous blow that went nowhere near touching Morrison and exposed the business was enough to send Morrison scurrying off in shame to the back. Punk catches him before he runs, and throws him back into the ring. He then attempts a diving clothesline, but Morrison lifts a heavy kick right into Punks knee. He covers for… three?? THREE??

Winner:- John Morrison.

Angrinometer:- Three. CM Punk, you should have known better! You must watch out for those devastating instant knock out blows to the LEG. The… leg. Fucking weak, man. Fucking weak.

Dusty Rhodes, eef you weeel, vs. Randy Orton, but I wish you wouldn’t. Texas Bull Rope Match.

If you are expecting a five star classic, you are either Randy’s mum, or mentally retarded. Actually, with the way Randy has turned out, I am not sure the two options are mutually exclusive.

Randy Orton spends lots of time stalling outside the ring to begi… wait a minute! I KNEW IT! What did I say earlier? He’s trade marking ‘wasting time’! SELF FIVE!!

Orton eventually ties on the rope, and hilarity ensues! Randy reaches for the bell, and Dusty pulls it away! Didn’t that happen in a Charlie Chaplin film once? Randy stands on the rope, and Dusty pulls it, tripping him over! Replicating a scene with Groucho Marx, I do believe, if memory serves! Randy gets the rope between his legs, and Dusty pulls it flipping him over! And I believe that was from ’Everybody Loves Raymond.’ For fucks sake, somebody hit somebody with the bell!!

Orton goes outside, and is pulled into the ringpost. Dusty hits bionic elbows left, right and centre. I would count them, but meh. I’m lazy. You bloody do it. More and more elbows, and they go back to the ring. As Dusty enters, Orton hits him in his wrapped leg with the bell. That dastardly… On with the sleeper, to give Dusty a break I assume. He looks like he is asleep, and I am guessing that is the senility as opposed to the actual sleeper. Dusty eventually rebuilds the energy to VALIANTLY FIGHT ON, but it is too late and everybody has gone home. Nah, I kid. Dusty tries to fight back but misses an elbow drop. Randy hits him with the bell, for… the win. DEAR GOD COULD ANYTHING TONIGHT BE ANY MORE ANTICLIMACTIC!?

Winner:- Randy.

Angrinometer:- Four. What did Dusty need that fucking big breather for? It doesn’t take a lungful of oxygen to LIE DOWN!! Bloody ridiculous. Nothing is fully delivering tonight. In a bullrope match, I wanna see the BULLROPE being used. I wanna see the BELL being used properly. This was just Slapstick Dusty and his Gullible Friend Randy. Nobody needs it.

After the match, Orton lines up for his patented Kick of Destruction, but Cody Rhodes runs out for the save, and Orton leaves. Well, that was gay.

And now for one half of our Main Event of the evening! Unfortunately, it is the half with The Great Khali.

The Great Khali vs. Batista vs. Kane in a ‘Useless Immobile Bastards’ match for the World title.

At least this one can’t be anticlimactic. These guys can’t HELP but be useless and immobile bastards.

Look, I KNOW I’m supposed to be thorough, but forgive me if I drift a little here. Because during this match, I was actually doodling a penis with cum dripping, and my brothers face below it. You had to be there.

Khali controls the early going, throwing Batista and Kane around like rag-dolls. Unfortunately, they bump less like rag dolls and more like Hulk Hogan. Kane is kicked out of the ring for his short ’triple threat match’ nap, and Khali applies a DEVESTATING nerve hold to Batista. Aptly named, as they really do get on your nerves. See what I did there? But in all seriousness, resting your hand on a guys shoulder, for all intents and purposes, is not only boring to watch, but also looks about as painful as a candy wrapper. For want of a better term.

The battle goes outside, and Khali begins to clear the ECW announce table, poor Spanish bastards, but SWERVE, Batista and Kane slam him through the table, and return to the ring.

Kane and Batista run through the motions in the ring. Diving clothesline, power slam, you know the gig. Khali then returns… and is greeted by a Kane choke slam. Looked the drizzling shits. Batista breaks up the cover and hits Khali with a spine buster. Looked the drizzling shits. Kane breaks up the cover. This match is horrible. Kane hits BATISTA with the choke slam for a two, and I see my life flash before my eyes and realise that I spent some of it watching this. UTTERLY FUCKING DEPRESSING. Kane gets a chair, and I perk up a bit, but misses the chairshot and recieves a spine buster. Who needs downers when you have DAVE!? Batista bomb to Kane, but the pin is broken up by Khali.


Khali hit’s the two handed Jokeslam on Kane. Believe me when I say, that finisher looks ridiculous. It couldn’t look less painful if he had dropped him onto a mattress. A mattress filled with feathers and fluff and other girly things. That, of course, is enough to finish Kane, because anything I say is wrong, and Khali retains.

Winner:- Khali.

Angrinometer:- Five. Don’t ever let ANYONE tell you that this match was ‘alright’. Because they will try. And it wasn’t.

Following another great turd of a match, surprise surprise, we have A TRIPLE H VIGNETTE! If somebody told HHH that an Anti Smoking movement had been created by the WWE, he’d be creating a cancer research lab in seconds. That would, of course, only be a cover for a weed growing plant, but image is everything.

And thank God for small miracles! We all have a savour, and his name is King Booker!

Out come Booker and Sharmell, and Booker has a mic. Booker again says that Triple H is NOT the King of Kings, and there is only one true king, King Booker himself. And then he turns his attention to Lawler. He begins by addressing Lawler as ‘Jerome’. BWAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAA! Anybody who says that King Booker’s character is terrible, look no further than this. It is pure comedy gold. He orders ‘Jerome’…. bwaahhaaaaaahaaaaa…. To enter the ring and place his crown at Bookers feet. Of course, Jerry says no, to which King Booker says ‘I see this as an act of treason’, and walks away. Piss funny. No joke that I could make would be better than ‘Jerome’, so I will leave it at that. King Booker just saved this Pay Per View for me.

Finally, after what seems like days, we come to the main event. There have been some good things sprinkled here and there, but this isn’t just a throwaway PPV, it is a bury as deep as you possibly can and cover with rocks PPV. Sad, really, that my debut for Pay Per Views coincided with The Bash. Please don’t think that I am a mardy, grumpy, angry git. Go read my Smackdown rants and KNOW it.

John Cena vs. Bobby Lashley:- WWE Title.

Now many people have questioned what will happen when these two collide. Will they open up a vortex of impenetrability, which will SWALLOW THE WHOLE WORLD!? Will they confuse all of the fans over who to boo so much that they slowly but surely go insane and begin to dribble down their ‘Vince Loves Cock’ T Shirts? Well… I am going for option three. I think they will cancel each other out to such a tedious point that Bill Goldberg and Brock Lesnar sit at home saying, ‘goshdarnit, those two bastards one-upped us!’. The Unstoppable force and the immovable object? If Monsoon was alive he would… erm… die happy, I suppose.

When both men are in the ring, Bobby Lashley begins to warm up by jumping up and down and slapping his gut. I SMELL A SUBTLE GIMMICK CHANGE! Vince is slowly but surely turning him into Kimula, son of Kamala the Undagon Giant! In twenty years time, I guarantee, Lashley will release an album. Unfortunately, his lisp will limit him to ‘Tiptoe Through The Tulips‘.

They lock up. Stalemate. Big surprise. They lock up again, and Bobby seems to have the edge in the strength department. This surprises me. I mean, nothing says strong to me like a man who claims he wish ‘wash your mouth with Colgate’ in his entrance music. HE IS GOING TO ATTACK YOU WITH HIS BIGGEST STRENGTH! GOOD DENTAL HYGIENE!! Gah. Tempers soon flare, which is a pleasant surprise.. Cena hit’s a bulldog and an elbow, to which Lashley responds with an exploder suplex for a near fall. So far, this is quite good! Wonders never cease.

Lashleys control continues with stalling suplexes and a generally powerful showing, but Cena takes control back with the blockbuster move that he never properly flips on. This is very to-and-fro. Somebody needs some sort of strategy here.

Cena retains control with that huge leg drop of his. It looks great here, and Lashley looks to be out, but no. Lashley then starts to take back control, for whatever reason. Jim Ross helpfully suggests that ’Cena has to inhale and exhale’. Well thanks for that, Doc. Because I’m pretty sure that in the heat of the moment, John Cena’s lungs forgot all about their need for oxygen! Fucking waste of space.

Eventually, Cena hit’s the FU, but takes too long to cover. Lashley kicks out. He then looks to spear Cena, but no! Drop toe hold and an STFU! Which is… erm… the most ineffective submission ever. PULL BACK CENA! ALL YOU ARE DOING IS COMFORTABLY HOLDING HIS HEAD FOR HIM! IF ANYTHING, YOU ARE BEING NICE!! Lashley looks to tap, I actually think he will, but he makes it to thje ropes, and the match goes on.

The crowd seem split between not caring and choosing Cena or Lashley. It’s very strange. Regardless, Lashley rises and this time connects with the spear. Cena kicks out. Jim Ross uselessly states that Cena ‘doesn’t know the way to San Jose’. Maybe he needed to find some piece of mind?? What a retarded statement. I’m fine and dandy, nobody has speared me all day, and I couldn’t find San Jose on a map. I hate Jim Ross.

And so, the end is near. Lashley sets Cena up for a superplex but FUCK NO. Cena, with all the strength he can muster, pulls Lashley up onto his shoulders for a SUPER FU! … unfortunately, it falls slightly short of being super, and instead falls into the category of, ‘good idea, bad execution’, as Cena basically just drops Lashley to the mat without any force. He just drops. It looks… well… shit. But, of course, keeping in line with all that has gone before it tonight, it is enough for the pin.

Winner:- Cena.

Angrinometer:- Three. Everything was clean bar the finish, and pretty exciting, but there was no rhyme or reason. It was move after move, no psychology. It wasn’t a BAD main event, but was maybe badly set up. Surprisingly, these two DID have chemistry.

After the match, Cena and Lashley shake hands to show their mutual respect. But I nearly miss this due to thanking God that it is all over.

So, that’s your lot. That’s the Bash for another year. Nobody seems sad to see it go, mind. Meanwhile, if you are looking for a bigger fix of Anvil, go check out the SD report, or indeed, the first part of my two part Dungeon. The second part will also be up soon.
Whilst you are looking through my stuff, check out the other guys. Bullfrog, Gersh, and Cameron recap shows weekly, and Sean chips in with something funny when he can be bothered. Just kidding boss, but not really.

I have been Anvil, and you have been lucky to have me.

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The Anvil's Swagbag has eight girlfriends (two for Thursday) and lots and lots of fans. He says this is because it is very hot in his Dungeon. He states that his most embarrassing moment was when he forgot to tuck his penis into his sock one time, and kept having to pick pebbles out of his foreskin. He also loves Mick Foley. Lots.

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November 2006


by Sean Carless

With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).