I’m mega pissed off today. Firstly, I recently ruined my shoes, and all
the rest of my shoes are back in Nottingham, whilst I am in Lincoln. So I ordered some from a catalogue (screw you, I’m
a student). The package arrived today, but I was in bed because they came at half seven in the bastard morning. So they posted
a letter through my door telling me when I could GO AND COLLECT THEM. Well, how mega ultra fucking useful, and completely
defeats the whole point of getting the bastard things delivered.
Then, APPARENTLY, somebody caused a fire in our block
of flats despite the fact that there turned out to be no fire at all. So I was awoken by a fireman shouting through my window
telling me that he was SURE he could smell smoke through my window, and that he would need to check my bedroom. Well, firstly,
I was unaware that firemen were clueless as to the concept of DOORS. And secondly, if I was on FIRE, the first person I would
go and see would be… a fucking fireman! I’d probably say something like, ‘hey guys, I’m a little bit
in flames here… a little help?’. In other words, get away from my fucking window arsehole, you don’t need
to be Fireman Sam to be able to tell when your FUCKING BEDROOM IS ABLAZE. Tomorrow, I have paramedics scheduled to shout through
my kitchen window telling me that they need to come and see if I am dead.
So excuse me if the rant is a little short
and sharp tonight, but fuck you, I’m shattered.
We start the show with Michael Cole, who is a selfish bastard.
Why? Because he has found his voice. And I thought I had hid it so well in that pile of talent that he has never in his life
He calls out Batista for an interview, which is fucking great. Everybody knows that a great way to start
the show is with Batista’s monotonous fucking drone. It’s a great way of getting everybody hyped.
mumbles some stuff about not being intimidated by Taker, but I don’t buy it, because the way he is conducting this speech,
you would think that the guy is even petrified of microphones. But I may have an explanation for that.
Wh-wh-what is that?
Cole:-…It’s a mic!! OH MY GOD IT’S A MIC! THESE THINGS CAN TEAR FLESH! CAN CRACK
BONE! CAN DO… NASTY THINGS TO SINEW!
Batista:- AGGGGH! TAKE IT AWAY! TAKE IT AWAY!
Batista says that
if he is intimidated by Taker, he loses respect as a champion. Way ahead of you buddy. I lost respect for you when you called
out Booker T and by the end of the fight, you looked blacker than him. You also looked bluer than him, but as that doesn’t
work in the context of the joke, I really shouldn’t have mentioned it. Erm… yeah. That all sucked. Fuck Teest.
look, a video stating that Eddie Guerrero makes his return tonig… wait a minute. Ohh, I get it, Rey Mysterio is returning
tonight. They just showed lots of Eddie because THEY ARE FUCKING CUNTS INTENT ON SKULL FUCKING GUERREROS NAME. I don’t
suppose this video package was designed by Rey Mysterio, but… hey, fuck Rey Mysterio. Dude, the guy was your friend,
and you rode his rotting coat-tails all the way to the title. Ironic that, as champion, they buried you deeper than Eddie.
Maybe if he had been cremated they would have thrown you into a fucking furnace. Then we would all be happy.
Match One:- Matt, London, Kendrick vs. Mercury, Deuce and Domino.
There is NOTHING
interesting here. It is the same two matches that we have seen repetitively for the past fucking month, only pushed together
to make it feel that little bit more hurried. It’s generic tag stuff. The heels separate the ring, target a body part
yadda yadda, and as much as I’m a stickler for psychology, this is by-the-numbers psychology. It doesn’t tell
a story. It just tells me that these guys are as bored of this shit as I am.
The match ends with a flurry of tag offense,
mostly from the faces (of course), Mercury tries to hit Hardy with the mask (of course) and Matt instead hit’s the Twist
Of Fate and gets the pin (of course).
NOTE TO BOOKERS:- IF YOU PUT TWO GUYS TOGETHER ALL OF THE TIME, AND THE SAME
GUY WINS EACH TIME, NOBODY WANTS TO SEE THE FUCKING MATCH. It’s simple. If we know who the hell is gonna win every time,
it’s a glorified squash.
OH MY GOD THERE IS A MOOSE LOOSE BACKST… oh, no, wait a minute, it’s
just Vickie Guerrero back to pick up another easy cheque.
NOTE TO BOOKERS:- IT IS COMMENDABLE THAT YOU WANT TO KEEP
SUPPORTING THE GUERRERO FAMILY, BUT BY FUCKING GOD, COULD YOU PLEASE JUST SEND THE WOMAN CASH!? SEEING HER FACE ON MY TV EVERY
WEEK DOES TWO THINGS. ONE, MAKES ME HAPPY THAT I DON’T LOOK LIKE MY MOTHER WAS A PITBULL AND MY FATHER WAS ROCKY BALBOAS
GRANDMA. TWO, IT MAKES ME FUCKING DEPRESSED. FOR OBVIOUS REASONS.
Hey, if you think I am using too many capital letters
now, please send all complaints to firstname.lastname@example.org.
2:- Chavo Vs. Scotty Too Hotty.
I know what you are all thinking… which joke is he going to go with here?
A testicular cancer joke? Possibly a living in the mid nineties gag? Possibly even a shrivelled worm joke? Well, instead,
I’m going to keep the humour simple.
Scotty 2 Hotty is a homo.
Let’s be honest,
nobody gives a flying fuck about this. Everybody knows that Chavo will win. This guy is on a never-ending treadmill of crap.
Occasionally, they dangle a carrot in front of his nose to make him run a little faster, but he’ll never catch the carrot.
Instead, he is stuck with the shrivelled lettuce that is called The Cruiserweight Championship. Sorry, the coveted Cruiserweight
Championship. Coveted by magpies. Until they realise that it is only fools gold, and they drop it back to, you guessed it,
Chavo sodding Guerrero.
The match itself is shit. Look, I’m sorry, but it is. There is no point in doing a no-psychology
spotfest match if the only spots that you can muster are hip tosses and sunset flips. Highlight of the match is when Chavo
rolls out of the ring after the Worm. Yes, the HIGHPOINT was a roll out of the ring. Chavo counters a sunset flip to win,
with his feet on the ropes, and Ric Flair rolls in his grave. I know, I know, shut it.
Winner:- Have a guess.
TO BOOKERS:- I HATE YOU.
My GOD this show is dragging.
Match Three:- Kane vs. King
Booker, MITB Qualifier. Falls Count Anywhere.
Kane takes early control with a big boot, and then the old chest-to-the-barricade
move, which I hate, because most guys don’t even make it look like they are lifting and dropping their opponent, thus
making it look like the opponent has just dropped their OWN chest on the barricade. Back in, and Kane chokes Booker on the
ropes, and I’m starting to wonder if Kane is working face or heel here. Then I stop wondering and start to think about
more interesting things like what it must be like to be a moth. This match has already been going on for six days and a few
hours, and Kane has had all the offense so far. Booker takes over and sends Kane into the steps. Now into the announcers table.
Kane takes control back, and they fight up the entrance ramp. Throws him into the barricade. Blah, blah, FUCKING blah. Let’s
take some shortcuts! They use the ring steps four more times, the barricade and the ringpost once. When did violence stop
being entertaining? This is the first time in a long time that I have loathed an episode of Smackdown. Booker hits Kane with
a ring bell. More stuff happens. Kane does some stuff, and Booker does some stuff, and then some stuff happens and then OUT
COMES KHALI TO DO STUFF TO KANE! It’s starting to sound like I am reviewing porn. Badly. So I’ll keep going. Khali
stuffs Kane in the barricade, and Booker pins him.
Winner, and in the MITB match, Booker.
NOTE TO (King) BOOKER:-
The MITB match will have five other people in it, so don’t worry that the pace will be a little much for you. When anybody
is doing anything ever, you can lie around on the outside and let the cobwebs gather.
The pace for tonight seems to
have been set to ‘Hogan vs. Roddy Piper, 1998’.
Backstage, Booker is happy that he won, until Khali
approaches. There is a long silence, until… Khali shakes Booker’s hand. Oh my lord! Was it the plan all along?
Is there an alliance? Has Khali been brainwashed by Booker? Do nipples sunburn? Can I get a woot woot? FUCK THIS CRAP I DON’T
Ashley revealed her playboy bunnies recently, as modelled by the Tonka corporation.
about something and OH GOD, WE HAVE A REMATCH FROM NO WAY OUT. Boogeyman and shitty little sidekick against Finlay and sidekick.
If the anticipation doesn’t kill me, hell, I’ll do it myself.
Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll
throw in a tasteless Mike Awesome joke soon.
Oh, and Rey retired JBL from the ring. You know, except for those
two house shows. But they don’t count because they weren’t televised. And by this logic, those people that say
the holocaust is a lie are probably right, because we haven’t got ANY footage of the inside of a gas chamber in action!
Match 4:- A hefty turd and a tiny nugget from the same shit, probably the
bit you squeeze out at the end just to make sure you got it all, but it’s always the bit that splashes and gets your
ass all wet vs. Finlay and Little Bastard.
I recently heard somebody complain that they got this match on TV
when they paid for it at No Way Out. I then assassinated the twat with a pencil for paying to see this match in the first
fucking place. What a stupid complaint!
Okay, in the interest of my sanity, REGULAR FEATURE WHICH I WILL ONLY USE ONCE.
Winded Joke With Fucking Shitty Punchline.
Far away in the tropical waters of the Caribbean, two prawns were swimming
in the sea - one called Justin and the other called Christian. The
prawns were constantly being harassed and threatened
by sharks that
inhabited the area. Finally one day Justin said to Christian, "I'm fed up
with being a prawn, I wish
I was a shark, then I wouldn't have any worries
about being eaten."
A large mysterious cod appeared and said, "Your
wish is granted" Lo and
behold, Justin turned into a shark.
Horrified, Christian immediately swam away, afraid of
being eaten by his
Time passed (as it invariably does) and Justin found life as a shark
lonely. All his old mates simply swam away whenever he
came close to them. Justin didn't realise that his new menacing
was the cause of his sad plight.
While swimming alone one day he saw the mysterious cod again and he
thought perhaps the mysterious fish could change him back into a
prawn. He approached the cod and begged to be changed
back, and, lo and
behold, he found himself turned back into a prawn.
With tears of joy in his tiny little eyes
Justin swam back to his friends
and bought them all a cocktail. (The punch line does not involve prawn cocktail - it's
much worse) .
Looking around the gathering at the reef he realised he couldn't see his
old pal. "Where's Christian?"
he asked. "He's at home, still distraught that his best friend changed sides to the enemy & became a shark", came the
reply. Eager to put things right again and end the mutual pain and torture, he set off to Christian's abode. As he opened
the coral gate , memories came flooding back. He banged on the door and shouted, "It's me, Justin, your old friend, come out
and see me again."
Christian replied, "No way man, you'll eat me. You're now a shark, the
enemy, and I'll not be
tricked into being your dinner."
Justin cried back "No, I'm not. That was the old me. I've changed."…
found Cod. I'm a Prawn again Christian".
Bad, isn’t it?
Little Bastard DDT’s
Boogey after a shot with the shilleighleighleigh for the pin, and that match was worse than the joke.
Winner:- Finlay and
Mr. Perfect will be inducted into the Hall Of Fame, and just as Cameron was shocked when they revealed it on
Raw, and as Gersh was STILL shocked when the huge revelation was made on ECW, I have to say I too was caught completely unawares
by this. I was so shocked that I went and bought The Marine. Just because advertising something ad nauseum always reminds
me of The Marine, and subsequently sends me back into the hypnotic Marine trance that the WWE put all of us in.
Maryse. For the record.
And now for the main event of the evening… a lot of talking! Sweet Jesus, that’s
like finishing sex with a, ‘well, goodnight’, instead of an orgasm. Except that comparing this show to sex would
be like comparing Pol Pot to Martin Luther King because they both had a dream.
AHAAAAHAAAAA Mysterio is in a suit.
A suit and a mask. He looks like El Santo did when they buried him. Mysterio is happy to be back in his hometown (translation:-
I’m gonna get the shit kicked outta me in front of my mommy). Mysterio says that he will be back in the ring quicker
than expected (translation Mamacita, you want some Latino heeeeeeeeat!)
Okay, I’m going to break one of my rules
here. I usually look at the main event in more detail than the rest of the card, but let me just explain what happens here.
Vince comes out. Yup.
He picks on Mysterio for being short. ORIGINALITY FTW. He makes some comments about how he will
see Donald Trump get his head shaved at Wrestlemania, which is supposed to be a shot to someone’s pride, but I think
it is a cheap sell-out rule. How about an expose your scrotum match? I might not watch it, but I’d buy it as a shot
to somebody’s pride.
He asks Mysterio who he thinks will win, and Mysterio tells him that he is a loser.
McMahon introduces UMAGA to the surprise of nobody except my goldfish. And
I think he only looked surprised because he doesn’t have eyelids. Umaga kicks the crap out of Mysterio, and then hit’s
a splash on his legs from the top ropes. Okaaaaaaaay, one more…
NOTE TO BOOKERS:- It is clear to everybody
that Umaga has a flabby stomach. Flab, for the record, is soft. If somebody hits you with something soft… it doesn’t
hurt. NOBODY BUYS THAT UMAGA’S BIG SOFT STOMACH ACTUALLY HAD ANY ADVERSE EFFECTS ON MYSTERIO’S FUCKING LEGS.
show is over. Thank the fucking lord.
Stored In The Swagbag:- NOTHING. This was
the worst Smackdown in months. It was pitifully slow throughout, to the point where I was convinced that Rigamortis is contagious
and being passed around the locker-room.
Condemned To The Dungeon:- Boogeyman. The
guy is horrendous. Truly, truly horrendous. And as I said last week, putting Finlay in there does nothing but make him look
bad. ARRRRGH! It took balls of fucking steel to sit through that debacle.
Luckily, I’m hung like Mike Awesome.