JB: What a difference a few months make.
One minute I’m taking the wrestling world by storm; kicking ass and taking names then I’m held on charges of making terroristic threats; orange jumpsuit the lot.
Well done Obama spending more money your country doesn’t have on keeping me locked up for no reason.
Now; thanks ta me lawyers you have even less money and I have a bulging bank balance and a new bike.
The personification of ‘Cool Britannia’ Johnny Brown is sat astride his Triumph Rocket III Roadster. His hair is freshly shorn and his Doc Martens freshly polished. With little more to do than work out during his time in detention the True Brit is looking jacked. It takes a lot for a man wearing jeans, a dress shirt and a bomber jacket to look like a beast but the True Brit has an air about him.
He is sat high in the hills looking down at the bright lights of Las Vegas. The power burning before him has probably doomed this planet to a hot and fiery death when the ozone layer finally goes pop.
Stood alongside him is his long time friend Stu Smith.
‘The Gentleman’ as he is know throughout the bareknuckle fighting scene in the U.K. looks like the bruiser he truly is. Wearing a wifebeater, shorts along with unflattering flip flops he truly is an Englishman in New York, well Vega but you get the point.
JB: One thing I lost during my time on the Press’s dime was my lucrative contract with *name removed under advice from lawyers*. Buncha pu$$ies got scared when the heat was on.
NO bovver, I’m got a better deal now, all thanks to me Bruvver from another mother; Stu Smith, The Gentleman to his fans.
SS: Fans Johnny? I wouldn’t call ‘em that mate. Ya don’t really have fans in the fight game just people who like putting money the odds of ya not getting ya ‘ead knocked off.
JB: That’s why I keep telling ya ta give this wrestling lark a go. With yer skills you’d kick all kinda arse.
SS:That reminds me man, this came through today.
A letter appears from Stu’s inside pocket, he flips it open and passes a sheet of paper to his long time running mate.
He unfolds it noisily, then looks at the bottom where the main event is listed; shrugs and works his way up the card looking more and more agitated with each match.
JB:The opener… A tag team? A bloody tag team match? I am in the opening match and it’s a bloody tag team match!
I don’t play well with others…
A screwed up copy of the latest Climax Control card bounces of the camera. Johnny Brown is pi$$ed, this was supposed to be his a fresh start; a chance to show the world that he is the best at what he does.
SS: You seem to get on well with the chicks Johnny.
JB: What are you doing man? What if Lane watches this and get the wrong idea?
SS: Lane? Are you crazy, you guys broke up months ago, when you first came to the states you dumped her and the kids. You featured a buncha tarts in your promos in *name removed under advice from lawyers*. Ya hooked up wiv’ one of ‘em.
JB: Aww they didn’t mean anything- look why are we chatting about this crap. I have a match… a tag match but a match. Seriously bruv I don’t know what bit is worse.
My opponents or my partner, dudes name is Old Skool?
What sort of name is that? I hope he doesn’t think I’m a replacement for Terrible T? I could repeat the arse kicking T gave him if he lets the side down, but I don’t think so. From what I've seen of the guy in SCW he’s been getting better, then again…
…Ya know what? I aint gonna bother myself with worrying if my partner is any good. This wont be the first time or the last I’ve fought two blokes on me lonesome. If my partner can hold his end of the deal up then it’s a bonus. I think his ability will show what the boss men think of me.
SS: I don’t get it John? ?!?!?!?!
Johnny’s chuckle is friendly enough Stu doesn’t register any offence. It’s like when a so-so chick hangs with a fatty, Johnny a man with a less than stellar education gets to feel intellectually superior.
JB: Stu you know I love you bruv, but you need to learn to look at the bigger picture. If they stick me with a jobber, some dudes who’s on his back more than Katie Price an’ Kerry Katona combined it shows they think I’m not worth jack.
It said that ya shouldn’t read a book by its cover right? Well “The Sin-Sational One” doesn’t seem like a lengthy tome to me yet he may well be War an’ frickin’ Peace in spandex. Point is as long as he turns up and doesn’t eff up we’re good.
Jared Black and "Prime Time" Matthew Kennedy, whatever happens they’re in fer a arse kickin’ they’ll never forget.
Having seen his friend in full on rant mode before Stu cracks open his cooler and takes a seat on the bonnet of his jeep. Brown hears the rasp of a ring pull so leaves his bike on the kick stand to grab a Stella for himself.
A near silence falls over the pair as they glug the beer, known as ‘wifebeater’ back in their homeland. After a pair of satisfied ahhhhs and the crumpling of the cans; as it the ritual the tête-à-tête resumes.
From what I’ve heard Jared was a fatboy who learnt to fight back against the bullies. Eventually he lost his fat ass but ta me he’s still a victim, this time I’m the bully. Only I’ll take more than his lunch money and squirt him in the face with his juice box!
I’ll wreck his SCW career before it’s begun. He’ll go scurrying back to Jacksonville to play golf until his dying days. Of course if he’s true to his rumoured form he won’t back down, he’ll keep coming and I’ll keep knocking him down. Then when I get bored I’ll tie him up in knots an’ snap a knee… an elbow, maybe even his bloody neck. I’ll show all of SCW that my partner isn’t the only Old Skool thing left in wrestling. I don’t need flips, a million catchphrases or a movie division to be the best. I’ll do it just like my family did through hard work, a concept lost on the fat lazy ungrateful Americans.
Am I resorting to a tired stereotype? Maybe, but no more than my opponents will about my alleged bad teeth or love for tea and crumpets, mine white with two sugars for those that are keeping score. Fact American is the GLOBAL leader in virtually everything, what they say goes.
They start the wars, they start the trends… and they made us all fat. Now thanks to my independent will and amazing genetics I look like a million quid but most folks back home… not so much. Britain has become an overweight lapdog obeying every bloated politician that gives an order.
To me Jared Black; regardless of his pant size is an example of what’s wrong with the world. He a fat f**k in a smaller body; when I wipe the mat with him he’ll eat a dozen whoppers soaked in his salty tears, then stuff down a handful of chilidogs to take the shame away.
He doesn’t belong in wrestling an’ ill enjoying putting him out of it.
Ever the Gentleman Stu offers Johnny another can before taking one for himself.
SS: That was some heavy stuff there John, I thought you were going to drop that stuff, the basement dwelling virgins and backward hillbilly’s that watch this stuff understand it, neither do the drunk tourists that turn up to the shows. I’ve lived here for about 6 weeks now and everyone is only interested in gambling and having a good time.
Draining his second can even faster than his first, Johnny burps about a two on the rector scale then continues.
JB: Do I look like I care about the SCW fans? I don’t have the urge to have people like me, I don’t need to feel loved. Did my mum an’ dad give me enough cuddles? Who gives a crap!
All that matters is what happens between those ropes!
You know who I feel sorry for in this match? Kennedy, what chance does he have? He had to face a 12 year old last week, but at least he won and now he’s paired with an unproven deflated blimp. Someone in the back must want him cancelled.
He clearly doesn’t like America must like me, but the country I don’t mind its just all the people in it, of course there’s a lot of Britain I don’t like either. I s’pose I better clear something up before the press gets hold of it.
I don’t care what colour you are I care about my country. If it wasn’t for all the Arabs I wouldn’t have anywhere to by more beer on Xmas day or to buy fags when I was 10. I care about the damn government that scaremonger an’ stir hatred up, the damn councils that wont let ya fly a union jack but will knock down listed building to build a mosque.
The people of GREAT Britain made the country great an’ it’s the government that’s ruining it, lead of course by Uncle Sam.
Of course I’m breaking the rules, the big taboo don’t talk about religion or politics… all I have left is ta show ya a funny growth on my arse and I’ve unleashed the unholy dinner party trinity of faux pas’s.
Well this aint no dinner party and I don’t give a $hit. SCW hired me to be controversial, ta bring in the rating and I damn well will. Lets face it they need all the help they can get. They have a bunch of talented wrestlers, even though I’m going ta kick 10 shades of pi$$ outta them in the weeks and months ta come most of them can work.
It’s the staff that I worry about? The announcers and backstage crew look like they escaped from a fetish club and as for the bookers…
…you’ve gotta give it to them, they’ve really got together to come up with the hook for this match, Sin City’s British wrestlers on opposite teams… yes that’s sarcasm, British wit is too complex for the yanks, so I thought it best to explain.
What are they? Monkeys with typewriters hoping to recreate the works of Shakespeare or blind men with a dartboard covered with names?
Did they think our love for our homelands and everything British would make an interest dichotomy… don’t try to understand Stu, just stand there and look menacing. You have a great right hand, amazing manners but word play isn’t your forte.
Of course I don’t need to tell everyone how tough I am, I don’t like having ta play a verbal game of chess, using words to dance and twist ta sell my fights. I don’t use verbs or nouns in the ring I use me fists and me ‘ead.
Sure a clever analogy works wonders ta talk ‘em inta the arena but its me take downs and submissions that’ll bring ‘em back week after week. Paying their hard-earned cash to ‘opefully see one of their heroes take down the $hit-shootin’ Brit; that’s fine. As long as the office redirects the dollars inta my pockets, I’m good wiv it.
Me mum always said I could charm the birds from the trees, well its time I put it to the test. If SCW really wants me ta speak my mind that better be ready. As me last boss what happens when ya give me a mic. Better yet ask my lawyer and my bank manager, Johnny Brown is money an’ at Climax Control Jared Black an’ Matthew Kennedy better be read to hit the headlines.
The British are coming and they’re gonna kick yer ‘eads in! Now take me to the Titty Twister Jack Stud owes me a drink.
