Fuck all of you.


Seriously, Iím immune from this eviction shit. Youíre lucky Iím even HERE. I could write about poop in a bag and you would have to take it, and take it with gratitude. You would say ĎOh thank you Paul! Thank you for enlightening us about bag poop. We love you.í And I would kick you out of bed, and you would never see me again.


    I have looked around the site to see just how little I can get away with writing. My dedication to you, the fans, is that strong. Fan, really. I hold no preconceptions, I KNOW IT IS JUST YOU READING. Anyway, the number varied from a handsome 1,500 words to a frankly retarded 4,200 (a healthy fruit basket for the man who can tell me who that fffffucking was). I have written essays shorter. I already hate this place.


    As I scoured my Local Second-Hand Media Shop for source material toward this task, trying to avoid the lustful gaze of the scary obese goth chick behind the counter, I realised something: my pants were missing. I also realised that PPVs are the devilís work, and every single one of them is a hideous abortion seemingly crafted to drive me to tears, drink, and foreign prostitutes. So piss on that, I cry. I shall Ďrantí on something with strong ties to wrestling, but not a godforsaken PPV. I bring you:





    It also stars Omarion!


    I found this DVD at random; I had no goddamn idea this film was ever made. According to the case, RVDís character is called Bobby. I hope to god his full name is Bobby V-Damzo is something like that. Batista plays Davey Pitootie, and Ja Rule playsÖnah, I canít make that name sillier. Short plot overview: a guy attacks RVDís wife, RVD frog-splashes him and he dies. Guyís brother wants revenge (and the hardcore title belt) so he puts up a $100,000 bounty on Mr. V-Damzoís head. His daughter is kidnapped, cause that has to happen to every action star with a Belgian surname, So he goes to all-out street war in a blaze HAHA DRUGS of bullets and bad acting. There is no mention of Batista, and yet he is on the case no more than three fucking times. Here we go.


    The DVD opens up with a trailer for a poorly filmed eastern movie featuringÖbasketball playing parkour martial artists. Ok, well fucking done Asia. Youíve basically tried to make the most American friendly film EVER. The film is called Fireball, if anyone wants to go out and buy it in an act of masochism. At first I thought it was called Freeball, and nearly died.


    Next trailer is a film about bare-knuckle fighting in Ireland, starring VINNIE JONES AND MICHAEL MADSEN. THE MOST IRISH ACTORS ALIVE. Who can forget Madsenís bone-chilling line in Reservoir Dogs, HOO-DE HEE HAR DE BLARNEY STONE BEGORAH COVEREMINPETROL HAHEHOOHOO


    Next trailer is some weird-ass Sri Lankan crap. Iím gonna call it Dude With Knife 2: This Time, I Have More Knives. Choreography was actually pretty good.


    Film starts with Ashton Kutcher tied to a chair by a dock, with ZZ Top punching the crap out of him. A deflated Goldberg in a terrible suit tells him he should not have ratted him out to the cops! Grr, cop ratter. A poor manís Clint Eastwood is also there, whom I gather to be a bent cop or something. Everyone keeps saying ĎNicky, Nicky, Nicky.í Cause thatís what passes for acceptable dialogue around here, repeating the guyís name in a colloquial fashion. Audiencey, Audiencey, Audiencey. Something sarcastic said in a mean tone to convey that I am the bad guy. Fuck this film. Did the guy seriously say he had a wife and two kids? Whatís next, heís two days from retirement? Heís in the river now anyway, to hell with him.


    The opening titles are done in a faux-Bond style, only with silhouetted black dudes punching buildings. I still do not know who Omarion is. Is it a fruit? I do know who Nelson Frazier Jr. is, though! Viscera is in this film! Well donít I just want to keep watching the FUCK out of this. The highlight of the opening sequence must be Ďand introducing Marrese Crumpí. I think I had a Marrese Crump once. We cross-bred it with a rottweiler.


    Rob Van Dam is cutting logs with a chainsaw. I could probably make a drugs joke out of that, but HE HAS GIVEN UP THE CHAINSAW AND IS JUST PUNCHING THE WOOD AND NOW HIS DAUGHTER IS DROWNING IN A POOL WHAT THE FUCK. Turns out she was only joking, which is possibly the most horrifying practical joke since I pretended to be blind that one year. Got so much free stuff, seriously.


    Also, remember Charlize Theron in Monster? Where she gained all that weight, and got all lumpy and crazy and shit? RVDís wife in this looks like that. All the time. Every day.


    The editing is so shoddy in this film it looks like RVD has the power to fucking disapparate. After a few seconds of pretending to be a married couple, RVD and Monster go to meet the new neighbour at the door, who is Urkel. Urkel asks for a hammer, which is in no way suspicious or creepy. He invites MonsterVD to dinner in the city. I hate this. I canít fucking get pictures of this film, so Iím trying to make it INTERESTING for you bastards, alright? Hell, youíll read Haloís shit, youíll read mine.


    Theyíre in Urkelís car, and by God if that square black bastard doesnít have him some young pussy. He also claims to be friends with the owner of the biggest club in the city! It is apparently Ďhappening.í Another thing that is happening is my brain slowly melting into itself. I also think they missed a trick not casting RVDís wife as a huge Jamaican man, but I think thatís just how my mind works. Iím only ten minutes into the film, so Iíll stop analysing every small detail that passes now.


    My, this club certainly is happening! White middle-aged men in waistcoats abound. Funky fresh-cool club beats pervade my butt and face, and cocaine is certainly being done in the toilets. Club life. Turns out that the owner Urkel speaks of is none other than Deflated Goldberg, whom we shall now call Defberg, cause it sounds silly.

    Defberg has an office in the club, withÖa fucking fireplace? Seriously? Ok, thatís impressive. He leaves his little brother Seth Green in charge as he takes care of other business, who proceeds to snort cocaine off a plastic crucifix, because thug life. He runs into Mrs. VD (not a good nickname for a girl), inexplicably finds her attractive, and tries to rape her all up in this bitch. RVD shouts Ďget up, motherfuckerí in the least threatening way possible, and Seth Green ends up falling on his own knife. Guy is that dumb. Urkel sees a problem in the future, because he is just fucking psychic.


    Cut to Defberg and Poor Clint Eastwood in a limo. Clint spouts the most vague shit like Ďeverything is goodí and Ďall problems are taken care of.í The plots raises its tired head for the last time, blinks, and goes to eternal sleep. Defberg sees dead brother, Defberg pretends to act sad but ends up looking like there is a porcupine inside his ass, Defberg swears vengeance against RVD and sets up the main event for Summerslam.


    Did I mention that this film is written, scored and directed by the same guy? It shows.


    All the gangs are notified: 100 grand for RVD, alive! They all car chase RVD and Urkel while RVD acts the fuck out of the paper bag of a script they gave him. Heís the only man in the world who can make Ďcall 911í sound like Ďdo you have any double-quilted toilet roll.í Customary car park chase ensues! One guy shoots RVD in the leg, and then theyÖfucking leave him in a dumpster, seemingly forgetting about the $100,000 they get if they BRING HIM TO FUCKING DEFBERG. The Urkel RVD tag team (and their respective bitches) leave the car in a bad neighbourhood, prompting a surprisingly funny scene where Urkel locks the car about 5 times while walking away.


    ZZ Top try to convince Defberg that RVD is dead. He is not.


    Gangstas argue about a GPS, in a drop-top camaro. The Gangstas capture our sexy heroes, and RVD fights his way out. Urkel is killing me, seriously. He says to one of the Gangstas ĎWeíve come a long way from slavery to Obama. You need to stop using the N word, itís disrespectful.í Can we have a sequel where it is just this guy going about his life? The heroes take the camaro and scarper quick-sharp.


    They get to a police station, and I will bet you half my balls it is the very one the bent cop works inOH IíM RIGHT. Eastwood does, uhÖnothing. He gets them in a taxi, then texts the completely unknown taxi driver trusting that he will sell out his passengers. He does, but thatís not the point. At this point my DVD freezes, and when it starts up again RVD is in a gas station surrounded by neo-nazis, a man with a mullet and no pigment in his pupils, and Viscera. Pretty much a normal Friday night for Rob.


    Viscera has some weird shit going on with his hair. He seems to have oiled it down and to the side in kind of a cropped Hitler thing. I will also never trust a 7 foot black man who only wears a combat vest. One of the Nazis call Viscera a big ape, which is so so racist. Another seems to be wearing a mesh shirt, when it is clearly nighttime. Fashion is no excuse for chilly nipples, my supremacist friend. Anyway, Van Dam kicks the fuck out of everyone then drives off in the taxi, only to abandon his family and friends two blocks down the road to go meet Batista in a strip club. Again, normal Friday night.


    This seems to be set in a strip club just to give an excuse to show some ripe round American titties, and I really donít approve of this. After Iím done masturbating, RVD tries to recruit Batista into helping him against Defberg in the greatest example of acting since De Niro vs Pacino. One thing I noticed: There was a blonde stripper sitting next to Batista nonchalantly with her breasts out. When she stands up, she FASTENS HER TOP BACK UP. Is it just me or is that the wrong way round?


    Blah blah, Mrs. VD goes back home, Eastwood talks to Defberg, the plot is furthered slightly. A lot of this film is RVD limping through parks in silence. An awful lot.


    Oh no, itís Night of the Living Gangstas! And thereís one platinum blonde white guy with them for no reason. Ja Rule becomes the only celebrity to wander a park at night who isnít looking to score gay sex, as he accosts RVD. Van Dam holds his own until he is shown exactly who is Ruler of Ja, and succumbs to the beatdown. Then Batista appears, Hurrah! He set the whole thing up. Hurroo.


    RVD shouts about how he took a bullet for Batista (they were both Navy Seals) and he has a change of heart. This shows his character to be tough and self-serving, yet not devoid of compassion and friendship. That is until he point blank shoots Ja Rule through his face for tell him to fuck himself. RVD then allies himself with this FUCKING MANIAC. Batista, by the way, is wielding the most hilariously small uzi ever. His arms can hardly bend to hold the grip, and he looks fucking ridiculous. What the hell is his sidearm, a derringer?


    We cut to Urkel in bed, because thatís what the ladies came to see. We then go to RVD being followed by a biker, who uh slaps a bike chain gingerly on RVDís back then gets violently dismounted a few seconds later. RVD steals the bike, failing to even attack the biker who SHOOTS HIM IN THE SHOULDER. Van Dam plain fucking disregards this as a minor inconvenience, and just rides home. I honestly wish the film ended here, because that would have been hilarious: Van Dam goes home, gets in bed, and stops giving a fuck about the 50 or so people trying to kill him.


     No, the film is continuing, and RVD is injecting himself in the ass. Lot of normal Friday nights in this film, huh.


    Only when crawling into bed does he realise his wife is bound and gagged, and that his daughter has been kidnapped. Oh no! Navy Seal gear getting-on montage, fuck yes. RVD looks ridiculous in a biker helmet.


    There are 20 minutes left in this film, and I honestly think that we will not see Batista again. The fucker is the FULL FOCUS of the cover and disc art. Itís like Marlon Brandoís contribution to the godfather being a 2-minute scene in which he farts and blames it on the dog. Iím sorry for comparing this to the Godfather.


    RVDís daughter has been kidnapped by Defberg, who has set up a devious plan to lure him to an abandoned industrial site. Like every other film a certain Belgian named action star has made. I really cannot tell who is Omarion still.


    Poor Clint Eastwood tries to be heroic and all Let The Girl Go! This conversation somehow reveals that Seth Green was in fact Defbergís son, not his brother. This, again, is very original. Defberg kills Eastwood, because Eastwood turned on him in their tag-team match at Backlash and cost him his intercontinental title. Either that or because he called his son a coke-addicted fucknut.


    Enter RVD, wearing the most fucking hilarious Navy Seal get-up in history. The dudeís body is really not suited for a tactical vest and jumpsuit, believe me. He looks like the Hunchback of Notre Dame joined a militia. Surely it must be hard to be a Navy Seal when you run like youíre trying your best not to wake up a tiger.


    RVD rescues his hot daughter and hides her in a dumpster, which is coincidentally what I do with children I take care of. Fight scene! RVD kicks some henchman ass. One of the henchmen is about 50 years old, and looks like Jim Gordon. Something tells me Defberg is not the best at hiring talent. Customary fucking wrestling moves as you always must do in a wrestler-starred action movie but at least theyíre the ones grounded in real martial arts like an armbar (remember the Rock Bottom in Welcome To The Jungle? I mean come on, thatís silly). Not so sure about when a henchman does a Terry Funk style toehold, but what the fuck.


    Hot shit, itís Batista! He promptly shoots ZZ Top dead and hand-to-hand fights Defbergís top henchman. NORMAL FRIDAY. As my fucking DVD keeps freezing, all I can gather is that Batista is sitting on the other man, punching him in the face. Then they both get out knives, Batista CUTS THE GUYíS NIPPLE OFF AND BITES HIM ON THE ARM. I will refrain from saying normal Friday. Henchman escapes.


    RVD confronts Defberg who has re-captured his daughter, and then just fucking breaks his neck in all of a minute. The goddamn terrible editing kicks into gear once more, as the top cyclo-nippled henchman seemingly appears from thin air to clock RVD one. A terribly mismatched fight scene occurs, with RVD moving so slow you can actually see him decide when he is going to punch. Batista then hits the henchman over the head with a large stick, and RVDís daughter does not react in the slightest to seeing two men die. Stupid bitch.


    And thatís it, I guess. So ends the worst 85 minutes of my life, apart from that one bus ride where I was raped. This film reminded me in a way of Schindlerís List: it made me cry, it contained examples of horrible crimes committed against man, and it was very hard to masturbate to. I hope you enjoyed it, or at least read three paragraphs before giving up and going on to something more coherent and interesting.


    I love you.


(C) Copyright 2003-2010 - The Wrestling Fan/Sean Carless. All Rights Reserved.