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| The Room Of Tomorrow | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 4 2005, 08:27 PM (37 Views) | |
| Glen | Apr 4 2005, 08:27 PM Post #1 |
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*Beige… I know it’s not the most exciting start to a promo ever but that’s what there is, beige. The camera pans out (we assume so anyway, this beige is pretty solid) until a pink ear comes into shot, follow by a matted black sideburn, next an instantly recognisable greasy, stubble-covered face. Why the slightly more artistic start to the promo? Who knows? Maybe the monkeys got an extra banana this week? The face of two-time FIW World Heavyweight Champion and current Ultimate Endurance #1 contender, Brighty, is soon back to it’s usual size in relation to the shot. The beige wall is one fourth of a set of Brighty’s London hotel room, as rooms go this is pretty snazzy and has obviously been customised by the Essex Beast himself (That’s Brighty not Maclay) with his KFC telephone on a desk (Think Bat phone but with a line to the nearest grease covered provider of fried chicken) and his customised KFC title belt adorning one of the walls. Already the dark red curtains have greasy handprints on them from… Enough sightseeing there’s a promo to be getting on with, is that someone at the door?* Brighty: Doooor! *Surprisingly the solid oak door swings open which can mean one of two things, the person behind the door is a mammoth of a human being with arms as thick as an American and a body the size of two or the door could be voice activated. Toby Bostock warily walks through the door, which immediately answers that question.* Bostock: Brighty, you in here? Brighty: ‘ow else was the door gonna open? ‘course I bloody am! Come in mate, sit ya arse down there. *The 380 Englishman gestures for our intrepid interviewer to sit opposite him on, well, nothing* Bostock: Err you want me to sit on the floor? Brighty: You what? Oh right. Chair! *At the blubber-bellys command a black leather recliner scoots around the corner and positions itself next to Bostock. Toby goes to sit down but the chair (some would say playfully) moves out of the way sending him crashing to the navy blue carpet this, of course, draws a huge belly laugh from Brighty (if you have ever seen a picture of him you will now exactly how huge)* Brighty: I never knew this had a sense of humour n’all, bloody marvellous! Seriously Tobe, ‘ave a seat. Bostock: (Having finally navigated his weedy little arse onto the chair) Do you want me call an exorcist Brighty? Seems you have some ghosts or something in here. Brighty: Ghosts! Where!? Oh, ya mean all me stuff movin ‘bout don’t’cha? See this is ‘ow the other ‘alf live innit? Bostock: Issit? Sorry, is it? Brighty: You know it! Coz me mate runs this ‘ere ‘otel ‘ee upgraded me didn’t ‘e. Gimme all the mod cons, massive bed, plasma wide screen thing… Bostock: Television? Brighty: That’s the one, bubbly bath thing, free room service and voice activated stuff. Pretty bloody sweet if ya ask me mate. *Toby looks around the room in a kind of silent awe wondering exactly what Brighty has under his control and no, the answer isn’t his appetite* Bostock: So what exactly is voice controlled? Brighty: Loads'a bloody stuff mate take me all day to name the lot. Bostock: Just give us two then, the FIW audience will be keen to know. Brighty: One… (Brighty points to the large screen behind him) and two… (Brighty points upwards toward the lights) Bostock: How does it work? Brighty: Well for number one say what it is out loud. Bostock: (Noticeably louder) Television… [No response] Bostock: T.V. [No response] Bostock: It isn’t working Brighty. Brighty: Coz you aint doin’ it right, see ‘ear. Telly! [The screen flicks on, somewhat unsurprisingly a KFC ad is running] Brighty: Telly. [The screen flicks back into standby] Bostock: What about these? (Toby points to the lights) Is the word ‘lights’? Brighty: Nope. I thought I would mix it up for ya, the lights work by sayin’ switch, [The lights flick off leaving the room in darkness. Did I not mention it was nighttime?] Brighty: coz that’s what ya use. Bostock: So every time you say switch… [Lights on] Brighty: … the lights come on. Bostock: Neat what else? *Screeches and other general high-pitched noises drown out what Toby says next but he seems to understand what the camera monkey is saying to him* Bostock: Oh the interview, yeah. Anarchy in the UK, Ultimate Endurance Championship match, Weapons Allowed, Brighty versus Swytch… [Lights flick off] Bostock: Hmm… You didn’t put too much thought into that one did you Brighty? Brighty: Into what? Bostock: You chose, as the word to activate lights in your room, the name of your upcoming opponent. Brighty: ‘oo Swytch? [Lights on] Brighty: Ah… bollocks. Bostock: What I was going to say was, are you excited? Brighty: I’m always up for me matches Tobe, you know that. And the fact that I’m in front of me countrymen will ‘elp me even more, even though it’s in Docklands. Bostock: What about Swytch… [Off with the lights again] Bostock: *sigh* Switch. [Lights on] Bostock: He managed to get the pin on you last week, surely that will give him the mental advantage going into this match? Brighty: Yes and No Tobe. Mental? Yes. As for an advantage, not a bloody chance mate. Bostock: You think Swy…, your opponent, is mentally un-stable? Brighty: Exactly Tobe, I wasjust about to say that, it’s like this ‘ole thing is scripted or summin’, Bostock: (Uneasily) Yeah, huh, funny that. Brighty: You seen some’a that stuff ‘e comes out with, proper freak is ol’ Swytch… [Lights off] Brighty: … and that ‘ole thing ‘bout smashin’ up the title belt, aint it been done? Bostock: Well… err… Brighty: And ‘ow come ‘e needs to use a chair every bloody week?! Me ‘ed don’t ‘alf ache summin’ chronic, see ‘ere Bostock: I can’t actually see anything right now Brighty… what the Hell is that!? SWITCH! [The lights flick back on showing Brighty rubbing his greasy, short (but somehow un-kemped) hair in Toby’s face] Bostock: Yes, indeed. A fact that Swyt… the Ultimate Endurance Champion seems very proud of. Brighty: ‘e aint gonna be so chuffed when I ‘ave one n’all, one crack round ‘is ‘ead and I’ll get the 1,2,3. *Bostock has another pained look on his face, somewhat surprisingly you may think seeing as Brighty rarely knows any rules of matches he is in. He should really read up, but then these promos would be shorter…* Bostock: These matches can only be won by a knockout or submission, something Swytch… [Yep… off they go] Bostock: (Sounding annoyed now) Dammit! Switch! [On] Bostock: Something he isn’t known for, and you haven’t won a match by submission since your early Slam! days when you had your own version of ‘The Walls Of Jericho’, The Bright Spark, as a finisher. Surely that greatly reduces your chances? Brighty: Meh… ‘oo knows? That’s what they said about my ladder match against Jack Manson at Evil Intentions ’04 but look ‘oo won that’n! Bostock: Jack? Brighty: Me you pillock! Bostock: Oh I see… Really!? Brighty: Yes! And I’m gonna prove everyone wrong again on Sunday when I knock ‘is skinny little arse down and squash all the air outta ‘is nut-job body to claim me first TNT title. I aint scared of ‘im, no matter ‘ow crazy ‘ee is. ‘ear that mate (Brighty shoots a menacing, well as menacing as a jolly fat man can be, look to camera) I aint bloody scared of ya’ Swytch! [Lights off] Bostock: Switch! […] Bostock: Switch!! […] Brighty: I think we bust it… Bostock: I think you might be right… Brighty get your hand of my leg! Brighty: Not me mate, ask mini-Kong over there. *More monkey noises are heard in the dark as Bostock lets out a, not totally convincing, scream. And on that slightly disturbed note the scene fades… well not fades exactly coz it’s all black but you know what I mean* |
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7:06 PM Jul 11