THEWRESTLINGFAN.com - LOWDOWN ON SMACKDOWN: Feb. 2007

SmackDown Rant Archive (February 2007)

Lowdown on SmackDown! by Anvil's Swagbag (02/02/07)

Really sorry guys, but this is going to be a bit of a hack up, rough, shoddy job. I have food poisoning, and should by rights be curled up in my bed, and CERTAINLY not forced to watch Smackdown. That’s like trying to cure Aids with a dose of leukaemia.

On the plus side, that means I’m more annoyed than ever. On the other hand, it means I really REALLY can’t be arsed. So lets just get this shizzle over with, and we’ll be back to the scheduled programming next week.

Match One:- Finlay vs. Benoit.

And what a way to start! If the night continues thusly, sod the food poisoning, I shall prop myself up with the ironing board. So here we see why Chris Benoit is classed as one of the best in the business. Finlay targets the leg, and Benoit continually sells it throughout THE REST OF THE MATCH, to the point where he struggles to hit the suplex’s. This is Wrestling 101 kiddies. The X Division might be able to do standing triple somersault planchas and 520% corkscrew hilos but they cant pretend their leg hurts?? These are the sort of guys that have rocket science down to a tee, but still have Velcro on their shoes.

Okay, Finlay goes to get the Little Bastard, who… isn’t coming out to play. Maybe he lost the lawsuit. Anyway, The Boogeyman then kidnaps Little Bastard, and we FINALLY see how Little Bastard is indeed the downfall of Finlay. And I’m shooting there. Benoit with the roll up.

Winner:- Chris Benoit.

So, they are running with a Boogeyman/Finlay program now? Okay, surely that is a Sign of the fucking Apocolypse. If they put Boogey over, I am quitting Wrestling.

After some needless faffing, we are backstage with Kristal, Vickie Guerrero, and inevitably… some needless faffing. Apparently, Vickie has spotted an opportunity which will lead to much success! If she marries Chavo, I quit wrestling. Nobody cares about Vickie. I would rather apply bleach to the underlining of my foreskin, whilst watching Basic Instinct Two. BLEUGH THIS IS NOT GOOD FOR MY HEALTH.

Deuce-Domino w/Cherry vs. Paul London-Brian Kendrick w/Ashley Massaro.

Recipe for a Londrick match.

One sprinkling of offense from Paul London
Two dashes of Flippy Dippies.
½ a match of London getting the FUCK beaten out of him.
Add one ring, cut in half.
A small tag to Kendrick. MAKE SURE it is piping hot.
Lots of offense, including lots of elbows. Make sure to take a full handful here.
And serve.

Lovely, you now have a bland tasting meal that you have eaten every week for the past four months.

For the record, Deuce and Domino win, in a non-title match. Which would make them number one contenders if number one contenders still existed. I SWEAR, London and Kendrick are awesome. So why are they fighting the same match every week? If London doesn’t get that hot tag next week, I quit wrestling.

Batista wants to know who The Undertaker chooses for Wrestlemania. I’ll give you a clue, it’s PROBABLY the guy who he has been building a feud with over the past month. But that’s just an inkling.
Taker loses at ‘Mania, I quit Wrestling.

Nice little segment next, in which Booker receives the Keys To The City, perfect for when he finds himself locked out, I’m sure. He tells us that he is better than Patrick Swayze… but… but… he’s like the WIND!! He then tries to make Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top kiss his ring. Alright… gay.
Anyway, Kane interrupts and puts a beating on the Book. Booker is all of a sudden an upper-mid again, and all is a little bit wrong in the world. Good segment, very funny.

Match 3:- MR Kennedy vs. Vito.

And if Vito wins… you know the drill.
Basically just a match to show that Mr Kennedy is angry, or intense, or something. Beats the crap out of Vito, which is awesome. Takes off Vito’s dress and OH MY GOD VITO IS SMUGGLING CUCUMBERS ACROSS THE BORDER! Vito and Linford Christie once recreated a scene from Star Wars with their penises.

Erm… it was the one where Jar Jar Binks hurts his tongue. And then has sex with Vito.

Winner:- Mr. Kennedy.

Intense mic work afterwards. Alright, we get it, you are intense. Wrestling is like an American sitcom sometimes.

Al:- Duhhh, Peg, do you want to, you know, durrrr have sex.
Peg:- Not really Al. I mean last time we had sex, you informed me afterwards.
(LAUGHTER)
Peg:- Because I couldn’t feel it!
(LAUGHTER)
Peg:- Because you have a small penis.
…
…
(Silence)

Oh, come ON America, you know its true.

Bikini contest, and despite the fact that Jillian Hall has willingly stripped to her bikini before, tonight she has decided that she is a cut above all of that of course. Not that it matters, she has no shape whatsoever. If you laid her on a table, you could use her as a ruler.
She sings ‘Hit Me Baby One Morer Time’, JBL says ‘that sounded like Barbaro being euthanized’, because he is awesome, and if one of the girls doesn’t strip Jillian by the end of this segment, I am going to qui…. Ahh, there we go.

Right, I need to lie down. Be back in ten.
HA! I was twenty and you couldn’t even tell! I RULE.

Next.

Kennedy gets a rematch next week, because Teddy Long is a really nice, unbiased and fair general manager. And because CONTINUITY DON’T MATTTTTTTUHHH!

Match 4:- Matt Hardy vs. The Jizz.

Matt Hardy is totally over here, so of course, logic would suggest that he is going to lose to a big fucking waste of space, right? Right, ARN??? Bastard fucking…

Anyway, Mercury apparently isn’t satisfied with being pinned by The Hardys everytime they wrestle, and clocks Matt with the faceguard. The Miz wins, and I die a little inside. Which, unfortunately means that so far, The Miz has killed approximately 92% of my insides over the last few months.

Winner:- The Shizz.

Okay, we are at the end of a Smackdown report and I have only written 1032 words thus far! Jesus mice, I’m really sorry guys. Or, you know, I’m not, and I’m just gonna ham and egg the rest so that I can go the fuck back to bed.

Batista is out, and says that all week people have been questioning whether he can beat Taker. Here’s a clue, stop asking Batista, people. Try the bookers. Just an idea. Batista says he’ll take the challenge before….. duurrrrr durrrrrrrr durrrrrrrrrrrr durrrrrrrr AVENUEEEE! It’s John Cena. Oooh look it’s the same two champions from two years ago, and neither of them were too great then! Not that Wrestling is on Pause or anything. Cena talks for a while, and I tell you what, I’m loving Cena at the moment. For the past few months, his mic skills have been tremendous, his in ring action has been MORE than convincing, and he is earning a spot in the Smarks hearts the hard way. Muchos respectos.

Okay, where’s Lashley?

Undertaker is out, possibly to make up his mind, looking menacing, and still no Lashley, but OH MY GOD SOME MUSIC HITS AND IT IS OF COURSE THE EXTREME… SHAWN MICHEALS. Of… erm… course. BRAND EXTENSION? WHAT BRAND FUCKING EXTENSION. Shawn wants a shot at Taker’s number one contender shot. Don’t worry Shawn, you’ll get one anyway, because Undertaker will pick Batista. Trust me. I was right about Taker winning the Rumble. When it comes to stating the obvious, I’m awesome.

By the way, the crowd have loved all four men so far. It’s looking strong, people.

Okay, Vince Mc-ego-man-iac, or something SO MUCH WITTIER, comes out and tells the audience that they will like what he tells them to like, which has been the basis of his board meetings since the Invasion I would summise, and makes a match for No Way Out. John Cena and Shawn Michaels vs. Batista and The Undertaker. CAN THEY ALL GET ON!? In short…no. There, I just saved you a lot of money. And, erm, Lashley never did make it out. Perhaps he is too important.

Stored in the Swagbag:- Booker, JBL, Cena, Kennedy. All MONEY on the mic. Good opening match, good fucking show. This is why I am a wrestling fan.

Condemned to the Dungeon:- Boogeyman. Why oh why does God hate me. I feel like Snoopy; whenever I think I am in an entertaining palce… NO DOGS ALLOWED.

Right, that’s me done. Now I’m gonna go curl out a nasty shit, and go back to my bed with a bucket beside it to catch the puke. Life is a barrel of laughs.

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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.

Lowdown on SmackDown! by Anvil's Swagbag (02/09/07)

Match One:- Taker vs. The Miz.

And we all know what this means. Miz is going to do that fucking face again. You know the one, the ‘OMIGOSH ITS DA BIG SCARY UNDIETAKER!!1!1’ face that makes me want to insert a chopstick into each of his nostrils and poke bits of brain out of the top of his head.

No better way to start off the WWE’s ‘PURE WRASSLIN’ show than with a generic squash, right? Really HOOKS you into the action. Or, you know, bores you shitless. Taker hits all of the moves that he has been hitting for nigh on two decades, and picks up the win.

Winner:- Taker. Which really puts into perspective the fact that Matt Hardy JOBBED to The Miz last week, doesn’t it? A main event waiting to happen… and when he’s done waiting, he’ll be too busy pissing into his cholostomy bag whilst eating apple sauce soup to give two shits.

Taker then puts The Miz through the announcers table to send a message to Batista.

Taker:- Hey, Stagehand kid, come over here.
Ringboy:- Er….y-y-yes, Mr. Calloway…? I SWEAR I carried my bags. The wheels are all jammed anywa…
Taker:- Shush. Now, I’d like you to take this little note to Batista. Think you can manage that?
Ringboy:- Errrr…
Taker:- If you do it, I’ll approach you later when the camera is switched on and do the whole ‘Big Dog Showing Respect’ routine…
Ringboy:-… Okay!

(Ringboy takes the note, gets around the corner, and opens it. It reads..

Dave, do you like me? Tick a box.
Yes ()
No ()
Maybe ()
Much lovez x x x

At that moment, Taker turns the corner and sees Ringboy sniggering)

Taker:- OI!!

(Ringboy drops the note and runs)

Taker:- …oh well, I’ll just have to put Miz through a table instead.

And look, Rey Mysterio is back in two weeks! Check again. That reads REY MYSTERIO. Not Eddie Guerrero. Just wanted to clarify that, because in two weeks time, you’ll hear Eddie’s name so often, it’ll be too fucking easy to get confused.

Match Two:- Deuce and Domino vs Londrick (Non Title match).

I told you who will win the Royal Rumble. I predicted that Taker would choose Big TEEST. So believe me when I say that when it comes to stating the obvious, I am a fucking DON. So I’m going to make a bold prediction now. Kendrick will lose this match. Because, in the Dub, it’s a FAN LAW that ‘Non Title’ translates into ‘The Champs Are Gonna Job Here.’

Oh, my god, do my eyes deceive me!? Could this be true?!? SPANKY is the one taking the beating, ladies and gents! THE INDESTRUCTIBLE SPANKY. And Paul London is the one GETTING THE HOT TAG! BUT THIS GOES AGAINST EVERYTHING I KNOW!! I always thought Kendrick was like Jack Bauer. London can die every week, but Kendrick always comes out alive. Looks like Jack Bauer just died folks.
So anyway, London goes up to the top for his patented 1280% Splashhilomonkeyfliprana. But there is a HUGE MIX UP and London is planted from the top in what looks to be one hell of a nasty little fall, and Deuce and Domino get the pin. Told you. The slow burn continues for the London/Kendrick feud. Which will be like the London/Kidman feud, only people might actually care this time.

Winners:- Deuce and Domino. Who, for the record, still look greener than Kwee Wee. Here’s a little idea for the bigwigs at Titan Towers. Stop rushing these guys up to the big leagues. TRAIN them. PREPARE them. It’s just a nice little plan that would result in better looking matches, less injuries, and a short extension on your life, as if you don’t stop pushing undeserving fuckers up the ranks, I am going to plant a fucking bomb in your fucking Reception. FUCK.

And now we have a Booker T/Teddy Long confrontation.

I HATE TEDDY LONG.

King Booker wants Kane suspended, so Teddy Long… does the exact opposite and puts him in a match with Book at No Way Out. SWERVE! Except for the fact that Teddy Long was more predictable than the new King Kong film was. The monkey dies on the clock, Teddy has no love for a brotha. It’s all relative.

I recently found one of Teddy Long’s notebooks, in which he has jotted down some future ideas for King Booker and MVP matches. Here’s one of the pages.

- A Booker Loses match. The match can not end until Booker is pinned.
- A Blindfold match. Booker faces his opponent blindfolded. His opponent is a firing squad.
- A Gauntlet match. In which MVP’s opponent is armed with weapons as donned by Knights of the Round Table.
- Booker and MVP vs. Wormwood Scrubs in a Hell In A Cell match. First one to pick up the soap loses.
- MVP takes part in the first ever Elimination Chamber match aired live from Auschwitz!

Okay, I’m really bored of this, and I’m SICK of seeing the next match. Here’s a WEEKLY FEATURE WHICH I WILL NEVER USE AGAIN. I’m going to call it, ‘Get your girlfriend to write the Smackdown Report for you’. And yes, my girlfriend REALLY DID write this part of the report.

Take it away, Steph.

‘Friday nights used to be fun until I met this dickwad. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are some very obvious pros to having a boyfriend, but they’re slowly and surely disappearing with every Smackdown match that happens to grace my TV set.

Friday nights used to be spent getting so ridiculously drunk I’d end up walking home barefoot with my shoes in one hand and half a pizza in another. Now I’m watching two guys get sweaty and touching each other up. It’s my flat-mates dream come true if he’d just admit it to himself, but ironically it’s me and my boyfriend sat watching this shit.

Matt Hardy v. Joey Mercury.

Match starts up and the Anvil’s-crapbag tries to give me the background info that I just couldn’t give a damn about. So his face got smacked with a ladder once upon a time. More fool him. I sliced my thumb open on a cheese-grater and passed out. No one goes around telling people how fabulous I am because of it.

Matt is dominant early on, flops on Mercury outside. I’m not going to lie, I didn’t really pay much attention. Internet shopping pisses over this oh-so-homoerotic ‘sport’/entertainment any day of the week.

Mercury ‘works Hardy’s leg’. Hearing that just puts images of one guy humping another’s leg in my head, and let’s face it; it’s not going to make me any more inclined to pay attention, now is it?

I’ve now ordered a months supply of Prozac, because I’ve almost lost the will to live entirely.

Just when I think it’s going to end, Matt makes a comeback and there’s a few bits where they only count to two.

By now, I’m now SERIOUSLY considering a mail-order male bride.

Twist of Fate (??) is blocked, and Mercury curls Matt into a ball for the pin.

WINNER: MERCURY

I know that a) because I was told by the guy sat next to me, who should probably start looking for a different way to spend valentines day next week, because he sure as hell won’t be getting laid after putting me through this, and b) three seconds went by where the words ‘OH MY GOD’, ‘UNBELIEVABLE’ and ‘DID YOU SEE THAT?!’ weren’t used by the dumb-ass commentary team.

It’s a sad state of affairs when the absolute highlight of my evening is hearing MISTUHHHH KENURDY telling me how he’s going to kick Batista’s ass. “I am the buzzkill… yadda yadda yadda. Pinned him…. Got robbed…something something…”

He promises to make Batista’s baggage lighter. I misheard it and thought he said package. There’s far too much potential to make gay jokes, but I’ll not lower myself to it.

I went to make toast at this point. By the time I came back, the interview was over. Apparently he just went on and on about how he was going to take the title from Batista tomorrow and then ‘Big Dave’ interrupted and beat him up.

I’m still none the wiser as to just who Big Dave is. I should be grateful for small mercies, I guess.’

That’s right. My girlfriend hates Wrestling. On the other hand, she finds Mr Kennedy funny. (NOTE TO THE FUCKING CREATIVE TEAM!!) She also didn’t understand that Big Dave is indeed Batista. But that saved me, what, a good half an hour so it’s all gravy.

Match Four:- Finlay vs. Boogeyman.

I think I speak for us all when I say,

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Finlay is TOO FUCKING GOOD for this shit. Boogeyman spends, what, a good five minutes selling like he was trained by Giant Gonzalez. Then the Boogeyman… erm… Boogeys up and makes a comeback. Boogeys up? Well, there is certainly more Disco Inferno about him than Hulk Hogan. Although he looks about as mobile as the Hulkster.
Just as Boogeyman looks like he is going to get the win, and my world is tumbling around my ears, Little Bastard hits him in the leg with the shileighleighleighleigh and that’s it for the 1,2,3.

Winner:- Finlay. And the moral of this story? We have all been wrong for years! Why the hell have we been hitting people in the head for so long when, clearly, the SINGLE MOST DEVESTATING PLACE TO HIT THEM IS IN THE LEG?? Of course! It all makes sense to me now! A blow to the leg immobilises the shoulders ability to move upwards because BOOGEYMAN SUCKS. Fuck common sense, here comes the Boogeyman, and he’s comintagetcha… all pissed off and suicidal.

Match Five:- Daivari (??) vs. Gregory Helms (Non title match).

Okay, firstly… does this mean The Great Khali is on his way out?? And secondly… non title? Daivari gets the duke. JUST WATCH. Come back in about three minutes…

…I WASN’T WANKI… oh, hey… erm… I wasn’t wrong, was I? See. This is why I am the Smackdown recapper. Because I am too fucking lazy to review a match properly always right.

Winner:- Daivari, with a roll up and a handful of tights.

Now we have the Diva’s doing some shit that nobody cares about because it doesn’t include lesbianism, dildo usage, nipples nor ironing my fucking clothes. Apparently, there will be a Diva Talent Contest at No Way Out. FEEL THOSE BUY RATES SKYROCKET.

Main Event:- Batista vs. Kennedy for the title.

Now here is where we see the OTHER end of the theory. On National TV, not on PPV, if it is a World Title Match, the Champion retains. It’s like that, and that’s the way it is. OOOMPFH.

Okay, the Story is that Batista has injured his shoulder or some other shit that will be significant by the end of the match when he stops selling it completely anyway and hits his finisher. Batista starts out strong hitting… erm… shoulderblocks.

Shoulderblocks.

Can somebody please explain to Batista what selling is.

OH NO, Kennedy delivers the DREADED DEAD ARM OF DOOM, and if the shoulderblocks did nothing at all, that silly little punch will end it.

Kennedy now works on the arm, and looks as strong as he did at the Rumble. He’s carrying Dave here, and it’s all dead weight. Batista, I used to like you…

Kennedy hits Batista in the head with the belt. FAUX PAUS! GO FOR THE LEG!!

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, it’s all insignificant at the end, because Batista hits a one-armed spinebuster (which hurts his shoulder despite not using it. And a shoulderblock didn’t. I hate you, Batista). Then he hits another one, because monotony is fun. And then he hits his finisher, because monotony ALSO heals shoulders.

Winner:- Batista.

And here comes The Undertaker to stare lovingly at Dave, who I’m guessing would have ticked the YES box given half a chance.

Shows over folks.

Check out Sean’s shit. There’s lots of it! Seriously, Sean is like buses. You wait forever for one… and then you end up sat next to the guy who mumbles about rodents to himself and reeks of piss. Or something. But at least it’s really funny. Then run along to Gersh’s, Bullfrog's and Cameron’s sections. But they actually review the matches, so… erm… please don’t compare them to me. And check out Derek Burgan's GIANT review too. It’s not actually that big, it’s just about a rather large bloke, but hell, it’s still funny.

AND FINALLY!!! Check out the Sour 25, coming up on Sunday! Written by somebody very special! (Clue, it’s me).

I’m out.

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Lowdown on SmackDown! by Anvil's Swagbag (02/16/07)

Some people try to top themselves every week, trying to write better and better reports. And I too, try to top myself week in, and week out after watching Smackdown. The only difference is, I try to do it out of my medicine cabinet.

But what happens when you find you can no longer top yourself?

For example, where do you go from Ultimate X? It’s the fucking Ultimate! It doesn’t get more ultimate than ultimate, right? Wrong. Because apparently, Elevation is somehow much more INTENSE and DEVESTATING than Ultimate. Hell, Vince, hire Russo back NOW! I’m sure we would all eagerly anticipate the debut of ‘Super Slightly Mentally Handicapped, Like Epilepsy Or Some Other Shit That Can Be Kept Under Control With Pills’. He’s much, much more extreme than Super Crazy.

The fact of the matter is, I don’t try to top myself, writing wise, week in and week out. All I’m doing is the same thing I do every week. Shovelling through the mountains and mountains of crap hoping to find a gem. The question is, how many gems will I find this week…

And ladies and gentlemen, all of that convoluted crap just so that I could have a pop at Elevation X. Ain’t you lucky to have me.

Okay, as we open up, I realise that God hates me.

Match 1:- Boogeyman vs. Finlay.

I already want to do the old skiperoo, where I just avoid recapping the whole match altogether, and nobody notices because I cover it up with funnies. Unfortunately, that is not appropriate for the first match of the night.

What they are doing here is putting Boogey with a man who can make him look good. UNFORTUNATELY, this instead makes Finlay look bad. Oh so bad. Boogeyman is the black hole that all talent disappears into, kicking and screaming. Anyway, this week when the Little Bastard runs in and hits Boogeyman with the shilleighlighileighleigh, he no sells it completely. Oh my god, over the past week, the Boogeyman has built up a resistance to the shilleighleighlegh!!

(Skip to a training video, set to the Gonna Fly Now theme.

Day one sees Boogey being hit in the head with the shillelagh and instantaneously falling to his knees. Then we see footage of him trying to catch a chicken, but his jerky movements make it impossible. Finally, we see him jogging up some steps at a slow pace, and blowing up barely half way in.

BUT THEN he slowly begins to get closer to the chicken, partially because the chicken thinks that the Boogeyman must be one of his own! The neck movements are uncanny! And look… he is taking more and more blows to the head with the shillelagh… and he is SMILING!

By day seven, the Boogeyman is taking shot after shot after shot with the shillelagh, until it SNAPS over his head! And look! He has befriended the chicken! Look how they peck at the seeds side by side!

He still cant make it up those fucking stepd though. Lazy twat.)

WILL THE RIDICULOUSNESS NEVER END!

Simple answer is no, because out comes Little Boogeyman. I am not kidding. He has the same attire, the same make up. He’s even walking the same. And when he starts beating on Little Bastard, we also see that he has ten times the talent of his larger partner. The crowd… love this, stupid hicks… and in the midst of all of this, Boogeyman picks up the win.

Winner:- Boogeyman.

Dear. Fucking. Lord. NEXT please.

Match 2:- Deuce (?) vs. Kendrick.

OH MY GOD, WHO ON GODS EARTH WILL GET THE HOT TAG? WHO??

This, I’m sure, could have been a good match had it been anybody but Deuce. These two have a lovely little ridiculous gimmick, a fair bit of charisma, and are pretty over. Unfortunately, they suck harder than Colonic Irrigation. Only you see more shit from these two.

Lot’s of meh happens, and I mean LOTS of meh. The kind of absent minded meh that it is boring to review and you’d just skim over anyway. Then Kendrick goes to the top to hit something flippy dippy, and Domino pushes him from the top rope. Which, of course, is so much more painful than propelling YOURSELF off the top rope, regardless of how you land. Meh, what a fucking swizz. Deuce kicks him in the face, which is the Ready Salted chips of finishers; bland, boring, good in a ham salad baguette. Or something.

Winner:- Deuce.

Where was Paul London!? Why didn’t he get involved? Because that is cheating, and Wrestling Law dictates that if the baby face attempts to cheat, he will be caught, and the weapon of choice snatched off him by the ref before he can use it. So lets not blame London. He plain and simply didn’t want to waste his energy. Good boy, London. Good boy.

King Booker is at the Movies, reviewing See No Evil, and surprise surprise, he isn’t particularly impressed. I’d have actually been shocked if he had instead said, ‘hey, this wasn’t bad for a trashy horror film… much better than that WCW crapola I was in.’ He doesn’t. Then Kane declares that on Sunday Booker will have No Way Out. See what he did there? He took the name of the PPV and used it as a clever little line against Booker. Doesn’t always work though does it? Jazz informing the Diva’s that this sunday, ’I’ll prove dat dis here hog weally is wild! Oink oink!’. Or Vince McMahon calling out the Queen of England and family for a Royal Rumble. Although I think there are talks of doing that next year. Then Kane rips through the curtains to the terror of… well, no sodding one.

Okay, Shawn Michaels and John Cena have an altercation in the back and I AM NOT QUALIFIED FOR THIS RAW BUSINESS. Where is Cameron when you need him? Fuck it, it’s something about Michaels having Samoa Joe’s back until he meets Angle at the next PP… hey, wait… that CAN’T be right! Michaels has CENA’s back until WRESTLEMANIA, and this is such a brand new sparkling storyline that it makes me FUCKING GLEEFUL. Arrrrghhhh, ANVIL SMASH!

Kennedy and MVP are walking now. What, you want a joke?? Errrrr. Fuck. Oh, you know what, make your own. It probably would have been racial.

Match 3:- HBK and Cena vs. MVP and Kennedy.

I never know what to do with longer matches. My style dictates I can’t do play by play, but I can’t brush over the whole damn thing, can I? Well, not again anyway. Meh, I’ll just do what I always do, call the spots I like, and the spots I hate.

Shawn and Kennedy start out, and we have a pretty even match on our hands, with Kennedy taking the strength advantage but Shawn using his ring savvy to ground Kennedy with headlocks. Cena tagged in, and does the old Rock trick of disguising any shortcomings by getting the shit kicked out of him, before tagging HBK back in. A good segment sees Shawn slam Kennedy and hit the elbow, before tuning up the band. He might as well shout, ‘hey, I’m gonna kick you in the face Kennedy, so make sure to turn around slowly and groggily now. Don’t be doing anything sensible like getting out of the ring or guarding your chin or staying down or shooting me with a BIIIIG gun’. MVP THEN tries to atack HBK from the apron, but Shawn dodges, and Cena levels him. THEN Kennedy has been given ENOUGH OF A CLUE to roll out of the ring, like the big fuck off tapping foot and the thousands of people shouting numbers wasn’t quite enough. Soooo, HBK throws himself at them with a rolling splash. How am I doing?

I get bored of play by play SO easily, so believe me when I say a chunk of stuff happens here, and it was all entertaining enough for me to want to watch it rather than scribble in a notepad about it. So anyway, Kennedy tries to hit the Kenton Bomb on Shawn, but misses, and Shawn gets the London patented (!!!) hot tag to Cena, who beats the ever-loving crap out of the heels, and hit’s the FU on MVP as Shawn hits Sweet Chin Music on Kennedy. One Two Three, and that was fun.

Next.

Oh, GOD, it’s Teddy Long stuff. I am exhausting my Teddy Long joke book here, the guy does the same thing every fucking week. It’s like being beaten to death with an uncooked sausage. It’s annoyingly repetitive, and eventually starts to wear you down, until you can’t take being hit in the head repetitively with an uncooked sausage anymore and tell your brother to put it away and zip it up because it’s just fucking disgusting, and he doesn’t know his boundaries. THAT’S what Teddy Long skits are like.

Diva talent contest stuff and yadda yadda WHOA BOOBIES. Kristal wins by two defaults.

After some shit, Kristal has removed her bra and… turned away from the camera of course. Because the Dub like flaunting women, but only the bits you can already see in any number of standard catalogues. And now Kennedy and Lashley are in the room, and Kennedy wants to challenge for the ECW championship apparently because… well because he’s plain dumb, I assume.

I got to see Kennedy’s fucking nipples. It’s just bias.

And now Ashley comes down to show us the Playboy cover… but doesn’t open the magazine. Well, that’s just fine, we’ll make do with Kennedy’s nipples. Fucking fight for equality, ooh I want equality, I want to vote, and then wont show their nipples on bloody TV bunch of cock teasing wasters AAAND we’re back!

Match Four:- Helms vs. Scotty 2 Hotty.

Oh GREAT. The excitement.

Helms has new music and new tights, which is always a good idea when a character is getting stale. But first, they need a character TO get stale.

Best part of the match is when JBL says that Michael Cole is all excited for the worm. Heh. Because he’s gay.
Okay, now let me try to keep healthy track of this. The first interferance comes from Daivari. Then Funaki bulldogs Daivari. Noble backbreakers Funaki. SHANNON MOORE corkscrew moonsaults Noble. All of this means that the wrestlers have to stand around for a short while waiting to be violently and surprisingly attacked, which of course looks like a large bag of wank, full to the brim and impossible to move without getting sticky fingers. Helms neck breakers Moore, and I’m just amazed that Moore got an offensive move in. I’m also amazed that he can look so fucking ridiculous and still look camp. How, oh how, does he pull it off, the big girl. Oh yeah, then Jimmy Wang Yang attacks Helms on the ramp. This is like the Return of the fucking Living Dead. Why you ask? Well I’ll tell you. Because we have seen all of these men buried recently. ZING. No zing? Fuck you.

That Maryse I have ignored week in and week out is in a tub now, which FINALLY gets her the attention that no women deserves until you have seen her sopping wet. Oh, and there’s that fat guy. I didn’t STOP masturbating at this point. I opted for the ‘feel really dirty about yourself after but hey, it felt good at the time’ option. It was the wrong option. Now whenever I fuck my girlfriend from behind, I can just imagine that pack of hotdogs where her neck is.

Too far? I’ll tell YOU when, Bucko.

EDGE AND ORTON HAVE A TOP SECRET PLAN! They are going to get Taker and Batista to turn on… each… oth… hey, wait a minute, if it’s top secret, how do I know?? This is like that time they caught Guy Fawkes.

Policeman:- Put down the dynamite, and put your hands up! We know what you are going to do!
Fawkes:- But… but HOW!
Policeman:- SIMPLE! You didn’t make your ‘super mega secret plan blog’ private! Every sad act and emo child in the world read it in minutes!
Fawkes:- Oh, darn it. Darn Myspace to hell.
Policeman:- Indeed.

And believe it or not, the Edge and Orton segment? More ridiculous that the sketch above.

Now don’t get me wrong, I think this whole cross branding thing has been fun, but what the hell happened to the Brand split!? It just means that guys like Matt Hardy are being taken from HIS show, and being replaced by John Cena. Sure, Cena = buyrates, but surely there’s a spot for Hardy amidst the midgets and his girlfriend showing the whole world her Yankie Doodle. Anyway, last match, and then I’m going to fucking bed.

Main Event:- Taker and Teest vs. Rated RKO.

Taker and Edge start. Generic Taker, generic Taker, generic Taker, tag. When the guy puts in effort, he is brilliant. When he phones it in, I’d rather watch that paint that Bullfrog watched dry in the review before his last one slowly start to peel, deteriorate with age and eventually corrode away. I will then repaint it, and stay around just long enough to watch it redry.
Batista in, beats the crap out of Edge and Orton, he and Taker clothesline Rated RKO out simultaneously. Off to a break, moving on.
Well, let’s be fair, the result of this match is pretty obvious. Edge hit’s a spear, but there is no referee, that sort of thing. The main eveners at Wrestlemania are going to win. Fact. And indeed, Batista looks strong, hitting Orton with a spine buster before being speared by Edge. Edge THEN gets caught in the inevitable choke slam, and the match ends when Taker tombstones Edge. Good match, good build, a little predictable, but necessary.

And OMGZ!!!1! HERE COMES MICHAELS AND CENA. Shawn super kicks Taker, Cena FU’s Teest, and the score from Raw is settled. End show.

Stored In The Swagbag:- Both of the Wrestlemaineventers matches were brilliant builders for the PPV’s to come, if not a little predictable.

Condemned To The Dungeon:- It’s gonna have to be Teddy. I think Smackdown needs a new general manager about now. I suggest… erm… Osama Bin Laden? Stalin? Rose West? Jack the Fucking Ripper, but please, no more Teddy Long.

That’s me done for another week. Doesn’t it make you wanna cry? I know, I know… shooosh….shooosh… shut the fuck up.

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Lowdown on SmackDown! by Anvil's Swagbag (02/23/07)

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 delved into.

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.

Batista 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.

Batista:- 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.

Ooh, 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 icouldntgiveashitsuckmyballs@youreasausagestorer.com.

Match 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.

There.

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.

NOTE 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 CARE.

Ashley revealed her playboy bunnies recently, as modelled by the Tonka corporation.

Another video 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! SCREW WWE.

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.

Long Winded Joke With Fucking Shitty Punchline.

Far away in the tropical waters of the Caribbean, two prawns were swimming
around 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
old mate.

Time passed (as it invariably does) and Justin found life as a shark
boring and lonely. All his old mates simply swam away whenever he

came close to them. Justin didn't realise that his new menacing appearance
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."…

"I've found Cod. I'm a Prawn again Christian".

Bad, isn’t it?

Moving on.

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 LB.

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.

Fuck 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.

IDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCARE

IDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCARE

IDONTCARE IDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCARE

IDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCARE

IDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCAREIDONTCARE.

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.

The 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.

Erm….

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