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| No Title II; Because I still can't think of one. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 28 2009, 12:51 AM (50 Views) | |
| Spann | Mar 28 2009, 12:51 AM Post #1 |
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
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A champion is defined by his actions, eh Carson? Iiiiiiiiiits Nicky! Nick Allen is currently walking through the labyrinthine underbelly of the Cardiff International Arena. A camera is tracking backwards as he goes, shaking and wavering but always keeping the big Londoner's face in shot. NA: Well, I can tell you this much:- No man in this organisation is defined by his actions more than I. Yeah, I like a drink or two, that's no secret. But you writing me off as a one dimensional drunk is old news now pal. Every single person I've ever wrestled in an FIW ring has laughed at me, called me old, and a drunkard. Said I was past it. Then they stepped between the ropes with me. I find people change their opinions of you pretty quickly when you're holding them above your head, ready to drive them into the canvas like a fuckin' tent peg. Fact is, Rayne; If I was just some drunk, some washed up hasbeen who shouldn't be competing in the ring like you seem to think I am, then I wouldn't be stood here with the belt in the fucking first place, being given the "opportunity to smash your sorry ass into next week. I worked damned hard for this belt boy, and I'm not about to drop it to some shitty-assed little ne'er-do-well with a God complex. You reckon you'll take me to Starbucks in an armbar, and to the drycleaners in a headlock? I put it to you, Mr Rayne: How do you intend to do these things after I've punched you in the mouth, leaving you scrabbling on the mat to pick your teeth up like the loose change I threw your mother last night? Pause for effect... NA: That's right Rayne, a mum joke. That's how on this is. See, when I first heard that I'd be wrestling you, and the guys here at FIW explained to me a) Who you are and b) Why you're apparently considered enough of a man to step to me for this belt of mine; I was ready for an honourable gentlemen's duel. A duel with tables and chairs and whatnot, but a duel nonetheless. What you've gone and done now though, is made this little meeting personal, made it not about the competition but made it about me and you. I eat cocky fuckbags like you before breakfast, and just because some booker somewhere decided that you'd be the least missed if I friggin kill you on Sunday, you think you can step on my turf and insult me? I recommend you rethink your gameplan, son. Actually, no, scratch that. I recommend you pack your bags, and get the fuck back to wherever the fuck it is that you come from, before I make you wish that on that fateful night twenty five years ago, your mother's legs weren't so much like my favourite pub back home: Always open, welcoming to strangers, and frequented by many. Nick walks on in silence for a moment or two, letting the brevity of his words sink in... NA: Now get the fuck out my face, camera man. I've got a bitches face to smash. |
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[align=center] I'm a helmet. [/align] | |
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12:56 AM Jul 11