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Hello, and welcome to Unforgiven! I, Anvil, am your host once again as Sean seems to be suffering from a sticky mattress at the moment, and cannot seem to get off his fat arse to recap a PPV. No prizes for guessing what made the mattress sticky in the first place! Seriously, I mean it, no prizes. You sicko.

It’s that time of year again when the Dub REFUSE to forgive us. And as a punishment for our many sins, Vince has seen fit to put Khali in yet another main event. So shame on you, shame on you ALL. But to be honest, I am glad that the Dub is so stubborn, because calling a PPV ‘Forgiven’ would kinda suck. I mean, what’s next? ‘Having Mercy’? ‘The Great American Slap On The Wrist’? What I propose is that if the Dub are SO intent on having these dangerous sounding PPV names, such as Unforgiven and No Mercy, next year they should stop THREATENING No Mercy, and dish it out. I mean, how cool would it be if they called their Pay Per Views ‘Hope Somebody You Love Dies’, ‘I’m Going To Kick You In The Cunt’, and ‘Fuck Off Back To Your Own Country ’? Now THAT, I’d willingly pay to see.

And we’re off. There is a video for Taker’s BIG RETURN! So big that it’s almost as big as the last big return! Which in turn was almost as big of a return as the big return before that big return! Hell, Taker’s had more returns than the PS3. (Yup, I took mine back too.)

Your hosts for this evening are the usual bunch of retards, midgets, paedophiles and Brains from Thunderbirds. Joey welcomes us to the show I assume, but for some reason the speakers on my TV are not working, so I can’t tell you what he said. Probably something about BIG DADDY V! Has nobody realised yet that it’s just Viscera with his top off? I wish to god he’d left it on though; it looks like the fucker could breast-feed a crèche.

So, who is lowly enough to curtain-jerk tonight? Who of the many different matches signed have sunk deep enough to be the first match on a card not exactly brimming with wonderful? Who could possibly be so bad that they… oh, it’s the ECW Title Match. Dear fricking Jesus. With prestige like that, who needs a cruiserweight division?

ECW Heavyweight Title Match:- CM Punk vs. Elijah Burke.

Elijah Burke doesn’t even get entrance music. It’s a PPV, and Elijah Burke is standing in the middle of the ring like his last name was Brawler. He should have just stayed in TNA! Teaming with Pacman can’t be worse than this! …what??

The start of the match sees Elijah Burke keep attempting to grab CM Punk’s legs. Did I miss an episode of ECW in which CM Punk was revealed to be Burke’s long lost father? No? Good. They continue to brawl in this kinda phoney MMA way until Punk hits Burke with a Russian Legsweep. Those Russians must be idiots because that move sucks an ass. CM Punk just threw himself onto the back of his head. That’s some deep strategy there, Punk, give yourself enough brain damage so that when you later kill Burke in a moment of madness, people will say, ‘awwww, bless him, his head was all swollen!’. It’s so crazy, it just might work!

These two continue to stiff the hell out of each other with nasty kicks and pretty harsh slams for a good five minutes in what is a pretty damn good opener here! Punk manages to hit that running knee in which it is so blatent that he is slapping his knee that kids in the audience are yelling ‘he’s behind you!’. It might have worked in the indies, now it just looks pantomime. Burke decides to take a break, so Punk follows and is subsequently tossed from the apron to the floor. Ouch. Burke continues to work the back, sending Punk into the apron, and then fighting to put on a Boston Crab. Burke is just POUNDING on Punk here. I mean, even when Punk manages to hit an énsiguré, Burke just still keeps working on him. Burke hits an almighty uppercut, and slaps Punk, so Punk…. Rolls him up for the three. Well that was shit.

Winner:- CM Punk.

What the fuck? That, as a finish, was about as good as when Punk was pinned after he was kicked in the leg. In the fucking LEG. Roll-ups suck..

Right, THIS time, rather than give you my ratings on matches, I am going to PROVE how good, or bad, they are with PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE. Yes, that’s right, tonight I will go where no TWF staffer has ever gone before (Mostly because they are all ugly bastards). Throughout the night, I will deliver pictures of my condition as the show goes on. And if any of you feel the need to send me a message bitching about my long hair or some shit, it’s the same address as usual, www.Icouldn’tgiveamonkeystoss_youfuckingwanker@yourmumsbedroom.com. So! First picture!

Note in this picture that I look slightly angry about the shitty ending to a good match, but also note that I look happy enough. My pupils are still white, I am on my first coffee, goddamit if I don’t look pretty. Lets move on, shall we?

JBL and Cole say some shit, but I still haven’t got any damn sound, so I’m gonna guess.

JBL:- Whoa there cowboy, did you take commentating lessons from Tony Shiovane?
Cole:- Nosiree! I just smoked a pound of crack!

Tag Team Title Match:- Matt Hardy and MVP vs. Deuce and Domino.

Lackey:- So, we have the brilliance of this Matt Hardy/MVP feud. It’s entertaining, it’s funny, the fans love it. Where do we go from here?
Vince:- Hmmm……I GOT IT!
Lackey:- Yeah?
Vince:- Here it is!
Vince:- Put them in a feud with two worthless goons! That’ll soon show the fans for being ENTERTAINED!!
Lackey:-.It’s…. great Vince. It’s really great.
Vince:- I know, lackey. I know.

And so, here we are. Matt Hardy starts us off, after some banter in the corner. But OH NO he doesn’t, because MVP just tagged himself in! SWERVE. MVP runs Domino around the ring like Hardcore Holly with a rookie, and then smugly tags in Matt. Deuce tags in also, and… Matt runs Deuce around the ring like Hardcore Holly with a rookie! One all. This game of one-ups-man-ship is making Deuce and Domino look ridiculous. I fucking LOVE it! And let’s be honest, Deuce and Domino come to the ring dressed up like Cliff Richard in his early career, so it takes a lot to make them look more ridiculous than they already do. MVP tags in, but this time, Deuce tries to retaliate. Not a chance bucko. A clothesline, a bulldog, and then MVP does the Matt Yodel. Heh, you see what I mean? This rivalry is pure pleasure. These two should be doing this over the World Title.
Now Matt’s in, does his Yodel that MVP imitated seconds ago… and then does the ‘Ballin’ elbow. AHAAHAAA! This is fucking gold. Not only is it really funny, Deuce and Domino are getting pounded like The Mountie when he went to Prison.

The Mountie:- I AM THE MOUNTIE!!
Prisoner:- Indeed! And I am the MountING. Pick up the soap, jailbird.

Okay, it’s about this point that Deuce and Domino start to do stuff. I KNOW this is a PPV recap, and I shouldn’t just skim, but Jesus and Mary Chain, does anybody actually give a damn what Deuce and Domino DO? Anyways, when Matt can’t get to MVP, he decides he’s heading to the back… until there is a near fall, and then he comes darting back. From there, Matt is FINALLY able to make a tag. The live crowd are eating this whole thing up. MVP absolutely clears house until Matt tags back in, throws MVP into Domino, and hit’s the Twist Of Fate for the win! Brilliant.

Winners:- MVP and Matt Hardy.

MVP’s selling is priceless. The psychology of this match was so simple and so effective that it could very easily steal the show without being that great of a match. THAT’S the magic of clever booking kiddies.

So, how is The Anvil doing after that?

What is that look on Anvils face? Could it be? Is it so? He looks… CONTENT!! And a tad constipated, but screw you, with the amount of coffee I am shovelling down my system to keep awake, you’d look like you were giving birth to a small animal too. Note that the eyes are still white and gleaming.

Rey now cuts a promo, and I’m having to use subtitles to know what the hell he is talking about, as I still don’t have sound. He states that the only way to escape the vice grip is not to be caught in it. And by that same logic, the only way to avoid being in a car crash is not to get into a car! Wow, the simplistic brilliance of that statement is almost humbling isn’t it? Jesus Wept. He also says nobody gave him a chance last time he had a title shot. And he’s not wrong! Vince, Stephanie, the writers, hell NOBODY gave the poor guy a chance!

No DQ Match For Carlito! HHH Vs Carlito.

The rules are simple. Carlito can use any weapon he wishes against HHH, but he cannot win. Thems the rules.

The start of the match sees HHH beating down Carlito, and Carlito continually trying to… ahem… even the odds by finding a weapon, but not being able to use it before Triple H continues his beat down. At one point Carlito finds a trashcan, but apparently, Triple H, like the rest of the world, has no fear of metal SOOOOO thin it is almost transparent, and throws both Carlito and the trashcan, into the ring, where he continues to beat up Carlito. Carlito gets a chair, misses, Triple H beats him up some more. Triple H throws Carlito into the barrier, and then the steps. BUT WAIT! Those steps are made of steel! Surely it is illegal to use steel as a means by which to decapacitate your opponent! THE STEPS OF COMPLETE LEGALITY RETURN!! Back into the ring, where Triple H locks in the Abdominal stretch… and uses he ropes for leverage. And then pulls Carlito’s hair. If Gorilla Monsoon was here right now, he’d be saying ‘ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR.’ Until Carlito LEGALLY uses a weapon. Then it would be all ‘That dirty, no good scoundrel’. Gorilla Monsoon was a biased old twat really, wasn’t he?

HHH and Carlito to the floor. Carlito is all but running away from Triple H now. He grabs a monitor, but once again, Triple H gets the better and slams Carlito into the ECW Announce Table. Anyone would think Tazz could speak Spanish. But now, Carlito grabs the ring-bell and JESUS FUCKING CHRIST HE JUST TOOK HHH’S HEAD OFF. Brutal shot. Brutal.

Now Carlito has control. He chokes HHH with cable’s, and then goes to spit apple, but gets a punch for his trouble and covers the front row with semi-digested apple. You pays your money, you takes your choice. Carlito takes a trash-can to HHH repeatedly now. I wish they’d stop playing this match for laughs. It could be really cool now if they started to get serious about how hurt HHH was and how much Carlito was relishing delivering the beat down.

Trashcan galore now as Carlito wedges one in the corner, but Triple H starts to make his comeback with knees flying everywhere until Carlito throws powder into Triple H’s eyes.

Question:- How did Carlito get white powder past the Wellness Policy officer?
Answer:- Very fucking easily.

Carlito grabs a chair whilst HHH is blinded, but hell, it doesn’t matter, and HHH hit’s a huge spine buster. HHH grabs a chair, but the ref grabs it, and as he is putting it away, HHH low blows the shit out of Carlito! But that’s CHEATING!

Gorilla:- Now, the cards are stacked so high against him, why shouldn’t he?


Pedigree, and that’s all she wrote.

Winner:- HHH.

And how is Anvil doing now?

Uh-oh! Things aren’t looking so great on that front! Anvil, who is now on his FOURTH cup of joe, is showing signs of fatigue after yet another entertaining yet predictable comedy match! From the glint in his slightly reddened eye, you can tell that Anvil is thinking, ‘I’d much rather be having a good wank right about now.’ Or at least you can if you ARE Anvil, and therefore ARE thinking, ‘I’d much rather be having a wank right now’!

Batista says some stuff. Hopefully, more detailed analysis on what is and isn’t a basketball. Probably about how it is his belt.

Womens Title Match:- Candice Michelle vs. Beth Pheonix.

Oh great. Beth Pheonix vs. the master of… erm… the Candy Wrapper. Fucking hell, this will be thrilling.

They lock up a few times, but Beth Pheonix is too strong. And LOOK AT BETH’S JAWLINE! Jesus, if she ran into a phonebox she’d come out with a cape on!
Michelle has to use her speed, which looks… well… about as speedy as a Carlito handspring elbow. If I pressed fast forward this match would run in real time.
The remainder of the match pretty much sees Beth beat up Candice, bar the odd occasional slightly bad looking head scissors. Regardless, Beth shows that she is more than just a pair of tits by beating Candice up until… Candice gets a surprise crucifix roll-up and pin out of nowhere. The belt stays with Candice, and to be honest, I think I’d rather go on holiday with the McCaans than have to watch Candice retain the title ever again. GAH.

Winner:- Candice Michelle.

Picture time.

Yup. That last match drove Anvil to the whiskey.

Oh God, the next match is…

World Title Match:- Khali vs. Mysterio vs. Batista. Again.

Khali backstage, uses his vice-grip to crush a canteloupe. He then uses it to crush a melon. But Khali, MELONS won’t be stood across the ring from you, and MELONS wont want yet another title shot despite having failed in their last six bids for the title and MELONS WONT… FIGHT…BACK. Hell, that sounds like a great plan, Batista. Let’s make the match Khali vs. Mysterio vs. A Melon. Much, MUCH better.

The match begins, and of course, Rey and Batista try to take out Khali from the get-go. No dice. Rey is tossed from the ring and Batista is clotheslined, kicked and elbowed. Rey back in, and they continue to try and chop the big man down until… Rey tries to roll Batista up! SWERVE. Batista is pissed that Rey should, you know, try and win the match. Jeez, what a douche. Rey beats down on the shocked Batista until Khali hits him with a huge boot. He then turns his attention to Batistain. The brain chop and then, could it be, is it so, THE VICE! Rey breaks that up with a chairshot that Khali shook off. Hell, I have seen babies prematurely born that would shrug off a Rey Mysterio chairshot from the fucking incubator. Khali fulfils all of our fantasies and disposes of Batistain so that he can beat down Rey with nerve holds and other moves that doctors say are four times more effective than Nyquil. Rey tries to fire back but is caught in the VICEGRIP! At which point Batistain returns with a shoulder block that ties Khali up in the ropes. Batistain goes for the Batistain Bomb on Rey, but Rey reverses, and hit’s the 619 out of nowhere. He then hits another to Khali, and drops a very dodgy dime on the useless heap of shit. Not Batistain, the other one.

But rather than the match end here where we would all be overjoyed at the prospect of having a champion who can, you know, wrestle, instead, Batistain picks Rey up and Batistain bombs him onto Khali in an admittedly impressive move. Batistain then busts the spine of Khali and… save our souls… walks away with the gold. Thank God I don’t recap Smackdown anymore because by god I would have just quit right then.

Winner and new champion;- Batistain.

Okay, here’s the picture update.

A sight I’m sure none of you thought you would ever see, The almighty Anvil, the most miserable cold-hearted bastard in the history of TWF, bawling his eyes out at the prospect of a) Batista as champion and b) having to sit through another hour of this shit. I didn’t even cry for Schindler’s fucking List. Never really got it. Those Jews were filthy, I’d have thought they’d be HAPPY to get a bloody shower.

Batista and HHH bump into each other backstage. They share a hug. It was still more arousing than Britney at the VMA’s.

Tag Title Match 2:- Cade and Murdoch vs. Paul London and Brian Kendrick.

This match went way too fast for me; I couldn’t write as fast as Londrick were moving. So my note-taking isn’t very detailed to be honest, but suffice it to say it was a pretty bloody good match, with Cade and Murdoch still bouncing off their ‘straight down the middle’ gimmick, and Londrick for some reason falling for it. A few really nice spots saw Kendrick miss a huge cross body, and eat a massive power slam from the top, the old tandem suicida moves from Londrick, And a nasty looking double stomp from London to Cade.

The finish saw Cade hit a sit-out spine buster on a very weakened Kendrick, London tackle Cade to the arena floor leaving Murdoch to pick up the scraps.

Winners:- Cade and Murdoch. Hey, if you want in-depth reporting, go to 411Mani…. Wait…. No, Sean says DON’T go to 411. Erm… stay here…. Thanks.

Picture Time. Kinda like Cryme Tyme, only it’s still around, and doesn’t need spelling with Y’s to be uber-cool.

Do you remember those sparkly white eyes from earlier? Well, they are fucking gone, aint they? And in their place is either Cheech or Chong. I mean Jesus, I look like Bart Gunn after Butterbean. Not even the six coffees are keeping me moving at this point.

WWE Title:- John Cena vs. Randy Orton.

Cena’s dad is at ringside, bless him. Personally, I think ‘martyr’ is just a nice way of saying, ‘what a twat’, but you have to commend him for being here. Cena and Orton stare each other out and dear Jesus does this feel intense. It’s electric. And… they are off! It’s just a brawl, with Cena unloading with the most real looking punches he has ever thrown. Orton tries to wriggle away but Cena is on him like a rash. Cena chokes Orton out on the outside, then throws him in and goes for the STFU, but Orton wriggles free of that. This should have been a gimmick match. Orton runs around the ring, and catches Cena with a huge-ass uppercut on his way back into the ring. Not a single rear naked anything so far. It’s enough to stay awake for!… and no sooner have I said that than Orton locks in a sleeper, which he transitions into a rear naked choke on the ground. They say Orton is a bit of a prick, but I think he is a nice guy. He always makes sure I sleep soundly. Cena is up, and beats on Orton in the corner. The ref tries to pull him away, but no. Oh, wait a minute, not like this! Not like this!

The ref disqualifies Cena for… erm… punching Orton too much. Cena retains. I think the term ‘barrel of shite’ comes closest to summing up that finish. Maybe not as close as ‘truckload of shite’, but it’s close.

Winner:- Orton.

So, Orton takes the opportunity now to hang Cena up on the ropes. Erm… why did you not do that five seconds ago? You know, keep your opportunity of winning the title alive? Oh I know. Because that would be LOGICAL.

Orton goes after Cena’s dad again, but Cena dives on him and locks in the STFU, leaving Big Daddy Ce to kick the fucking face off of Orton. Jesus, bitter about the black eye much!?

Backstage, Coach says something which the subtitles butcher, because Coach must have said sixty words, and all we got to read was ‘Cena can’t beat Orton, rematch, last man standing.’ It was clear and concise. I think I preferred it.

Your main event is… erm… Mark Henry vs. Taker.

Funny how your nose always conveniently ends up on that fucking Z key. Anyway, this picture speaks for itself.

Taker’s entrance is the usual overblown nonsense that makes the match look like Nut Cutlets to the entrances Steak. Mark Henry is overshadowed by a flashbulb, Vince. A flashbulb.

The usual Taker fare to start, with the punches in the corner and such. He goes for a splash, but Henry catches him and slams him into the corner. Doesn’t stop Taker for long, but what the hell does? Taker works on the arm and goes for Old School, but no dice. This match is very ‘methodical’. In other words, it’s slow as fuck, and more boring to watch than… well… the last Taker-Henry grudge match. But at least Taker jumped over a casket in that one. Henry throws some head butts that miss by… ooh… a good heads width. You could actually fit another head between those head butts. Big superplex to Taker, and Henry looks like that hurt him. Fingers crossed, lads. They fight out to the floor and take the ECW table to pieces, but rather than being curious as to who will go through, I’m hoping somebody will go through soon so that somebody will get pinned. Henry low blows Taker, and they battle back into the ring where Taker goes for the stroke thing and Henry sells it by… erm… falling on Taker. This guy can sell effectively for a cage, he can sell for a cloak, but when it comes to an actual wrestling move he’s clueless. What a fucking ass. I mean, if that was supposed to happen, it looked like shit.

Taker knocks Henry around for a while and hts the Old School. The only reason I’m still watching is so that I can tell YOU whats happening, because I’d have turned off ten minutes ago. Sloppy choke slam only gets two, which actually makes me WHIMPER. Taker goes for the Last Ride, but no such luck, and Henry gives him a big hug for trying. Apparently Taker doesn’t appreciate the hug and chokes at Henry, who throws him into a corner. Henry climbs for the mounted punches. He then tries to power bomb Billy Kidman and grabs Shelton Benjamins foot. Suffice it to say, Taker hit’s the Last Ride. Henry lands NASTY, and it’s 1,2,3 for the end of the night.

Stored In The Swagbag:- As I predicted, Hardy and MVP stole the event due to some really good booking, although the other tag team match was also very good, and the Triple H-Carlito, and Burke-Punk matches also delivered.

Condemned to the Dungeon:- Too many roll-up victories, or cheap DQ’s. But the worst, the very worst thing that could have happened DID, Batista winning the title. He shouldn’t have even been in the title picture.

All told, I give the PPV a Thumbs Up, because I feel that four enjoyable matches is an adequate sum. Adequate as opposed to ‘preferred’. But in all honesty, this was yet another PPV that could have been so much more.

And so, with 7 empty mugs, an empty hip-flask, and a serious case of the pink-eye, it is only left for me to say that I have been Anvil, and kiddies, 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.).