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Post by Frank Windsor on Apr 20, 2024 15:38:18 GMT -5
A Badman's Reaction Of Sorts
Darkness filled the screen.
“Things haven’t been going our way for a while now and it felt like the Wrestling Gods have turned their back on us,” a voice said. “Some say that we’re passed our prime or that we’re too over with the wrestling fans that we don’t need the accolades that come with this business but we need our flowers too and being overlooked by the front office. Being screwed out of what was our property was not only shocking for us but to the world as a whole.”
A spotlight suddenly turned on much like one of those ones from a crime investigation television show.
The light shined on one person and that was all that was picked up. It was none other than the man who goes by the moniker of the King of Yorkshire, the Sultan of Schlong Time, the Special One himself, Frank Windsor. He had a look on his face which he was known for BUT if he could look any angrier it was probably impossible. He was actually seething and surprised everyone watching as none of his entourage were with him which was unusual for him. Where were they? Who knows but it is known amongst the locker room that if Frank is in one of his moods you should leave him alone.
He had just come off one of the busiest weeks of his professional life and by the look of him he wasn’t going to hold back even though the last few months he had left the talking to his girlfriend Natalia.
Frank looked directly into the camera that was focused on his face and held his breath for a few seconds before he continued his rant of sorts.
“Now this betrayal feels like the Bastards were shafted royally and not in a good way bruv,” Frank shouted at the camera that was off screen; spittle flew out of his mouth. “Nah bruv, it feels like someone in the front office has taken a twelve inch black dildo and rammed it without lube up each of the Bastards raw asses! We’re used to the fucking jealousy coming out of the front office of all the companies the Bastards have been a part of but this is getting to a place we may need to called Scully and Mulder in to sort shit out. Usually we’d probably roll with the fucking punches but after the shit that went down at the pay per view to i’d not be surprised if Robbie’s walking about around like Armand does when that freaky wife of his gets a bit fucking frisky. You wanted to get fucking ratings BUT you’ve done it the wrong fucking way bitches as you’ve awoken a fucking monster. And this won’t end well bruv!”
He paused but the anger was still flowing off of him in waves.
“The Bastards are legit fucking champions,” he continued. “Each of us have been wrestling for a long time now and we’re all former fucking World Champions so we get fucked off easily if the piss is fucking taken. Have you seen what the locker room has turned into lately? Have you seen those cunts in there? None of them are legit fucking wrestlers these days; None of them. There not in this for the right reasons, they can’t fucking bring it these days as its all about their social fucking media or some other bloody shenanigans behind closed doors and not getting in the ring and telling your opponent home truths. They think that we want to know what they fucking eat or if they’re being screwed by the whole of their local Rugby fucking team. Who gives a flying fuck bruv! This group of misfits who call themselves as the Upstarts are as much as a fucking joke as the bitch who carries the main championship belt in this promotion and is actually making the Bastards think of what we’re going to be doing when our contracts come up to be renewed. It’s as if the management are legitimately trying to sabotage us so we have nowhere else to fucking go to but we’ve faced bigger pricks than the fucking management here bruv. Hell, if we could get through our time at Wrestle: UK we can survive in this fucking company.”
Frank scowled as he thought about the times he and his compatriots were in Wrestle: UK.
“Have you seen how two of the Bastards are doing outside of this promotion?” he asked. “Eddie is doing fucking amazing at the moment. He has turned into the fucking Gold Standard for this promotion and actually fucking eclipsed the pathetic excuse for a champion here that has actually fucking lowered the respect for the CWF Conquest belt that Robbie carried with fucking pride. They are professional fucking wrestlers bruv. Someone should fucking smack that smile off of Kronin’s face and send him back to Germany like the Brit’s fucking did in W W 2 bruv. Go and look at the Network bruv, they may be a bunch of fucking cock wombles and not know what time of fucking day it is BUT they know how to treat the Bastards.”
He turned and winked at the camera.
“We’ve been fucking accused of not being team players in the past but you wouldn’t know a team if it came and smacked you in the fucking face bruv,” Frank said. “The fucking Trio Champs are a fucking joke, they are like a team that has just been thrown to fucking gether just to fill a gap in a roster to face a really fucking team namely the Bastards. It was our tournament to lose and we got royally fucked and we will get our fucking revenge bruv. Now we have to move the fuck on or we’ll just get labelled a group of whiny bitches that are hard to fucking work with by the management and those fuck-tards in the locker room will believe it to be fucking gospel as their a gullible bunch of cunts. We smashed it and then got screwed, we could just whine about it or just move the fuck on and get our revenge.”
Frank paused as he got his thoughts in place. He started to flex one finger. We all know which one.
“Now we face the former tag champions of this company which is something myself and Robbie are acquainted with as we have held the tag belts in ALL the fucking companies we’ve been a part of and to be honest we STILL hold most of them as the companies couldn’t beat us,” Frank said. “As a tag team we’re on another fucking level and none of this cum gargling teams can even get fucking close to the Bastards. Okay now we face Pacific Rim? What the actual fuck bruv? How can we take a team named after some del Toro movie about robots fighting giant fucking dinosaurs? Do they dress up in those old Raptor costumes you see on the tv? Do they have short fucking arms like a T-Rex? I don’t know as these fuckers don’t make tv much or if when they are on the Bastards are probably calling in catering as we’ve been in Mexico lately there food is a bit fucking spicy and we don’t want to get the shits in a foreign country, no ring sting in the Bastards locker room bruv.”
A smirk crossed his lips, it was the first crack in his angry mood.
“I’m being fucking serious,” he continued. “Why the Pacific fucking Rim? Is this some Island Rim Job Squad? Who knows with this fucking company as since we debuted the management have let any fucker in the door; hell don’t remind Eddie about that Sasquatch fucker as he still has fucking nightmare’s bruv. Kelea and Aklut Thlunaut? What the actual fuck? Is that their names or has someone just fucked around with a box of Scrabble and just thrown them the fuck down on the board?”
Laughter filled the room before Frank returned with a straight face and looked into the camera.
“Okay so these two twins are half Hawaiian and half Alaskan?” he muttered. “They have a lot in common with my bird Nat. She is an Alaskan and now wrestles full time for a fucking Hawaiian wrestling company but that’s where the comparison finishes. Sea Raven and Sea fucking Wolf? What the hell? More like a wet pigeon and damp fucking squirrel. These two only held the tag championship belt because the Bastards weren’t fucking interested in them. I ain’t no fucking Nostrodamus when I predict that the Bastards are going to walk out of Portland with our fucking arms raised high and you two bleeding bruv. Also makes a change for the management to have Eddie wrestle on the main fucking show. He is the fucking Gold Standard mate!”
Frank shook his head in amazement.
“I’ll probably be fucking penalized by the front office for spitting my fucking truths but to be honest i don’t give a flying fuck if those drooling fucking dullards fine me as these are my fucking truths bruv,” he said. “We’re not here to be liked by everyone as we’re the fucking Bastards and it’s all in the fucking name. Okay, putting my serious fucking pants on now i need to talk about the future of the Bad Man. Frank fucking Windsor still has a championship belt to get hold of since I completed the Valour Championship quest. I won a fucking championship belt challenge and have yet to cash it in. Should I cash it in for the CWF Conquest Championship that Kronin is grasping onto as its precious for him until Robbie gets it back? Maybe take that belt away from that pox riddled Ho Valora has around her waist? Or what about taking the tag belts off of whomever wins the fucking tag title match at Warzone? Who knows BUT I will make a decision on Warzone.”
He nodded as he continued his rant.
“A decision needs to be made by all of the Bastards at the moment as this disrespect that is being shown to us is a fucking piss take,” he said. “Robbie is in the twilight of his fucking career and could just be sitting at home wrestling once in a blue moon for fucking beer money if he fucking wanted as he’s saved his money over the fucking year so doesn’t need to do put up with this shit. Eddie has got his push from the group and now his mobile rings all the fucking time with offers to wrestle all over the fucking world. And Moi? What the fuck can i do outside of CWF, now that would be fucking telling wouldn’t it bruv. This is one of the reasons i decided to talk my shit to you without Nat or the boys as you need to know this is me not them flapping my fucking gums at you.”
The anger was beginning to drain away from him as speaking was his type of therapy.
“Those Islanders aka the Pacific Rim Job may have lost the fucking gold straps that was ever so important to them that put them on into all the fans living rooms every show but they still will be sacrificial fucking lambs to a pissed off group which is same for that under defeated cuck that Eddie has to make look good. Why should we making these fucking enhancement look good? They fucking suck worse than a toothless Trump cultist would do if their ginger Messiah pulled his little ginger cock out in front of them.”
His voice rang loudly, echoing throughout the room. He held his head for a few moments, until raising it again to focus on the camera.
“NO,” Frank smirked. “It’s been building up for a while, I’ve been holding it in for quite a long time but it’s time to release what I’ve been holding in. CWF is suddenly full of egotistical sons of bitches that would stab their best friends in the back just to get ahead. And there are more and more of them returning every show. I include myself in that statement. You see, you have to have an ego in this business to get ahead. Look at people like Greg Salazar or that Valora bitch. Do you think they would have got where they were if they didn’t play the game to their advantage? Oh, damn hell yeah they did. They cut others down to get their place in this industry. I have done just as much to get ahead. Just ask those other old timers from RSW if you can find any of them these days or maybe ask Billy now that he’s trying his luck at Britain’s got Talent.”
Frank shook his head as he talked about stuff from the olden days.
“It’s a way of life for them, others have tried to copy their format for a life plan but have not quite lived up to the potential......Or the potential they think they have,” he said. “Will people remember people like the charismaless Kronin as a great wrestler? Do you think an arrogant prick like Greg Salazar will be remembered for being a talent or just someone who wore his granny’s crotchless knickers on his head? No? Too far? Well at least they were fucking edible so he could get rid of the fucking evidence. These fuckers can’t even do that correctly. Fuck ‘em and all that follow a similar path.”
Frank took the designer sunglasses off of the top of his head and clipped them onto his t-shirt.
“This is CWF,” Frank stated. “And the Bastards are not going to be driven out by some . I am the greatest uncrowned Fucking Champion, not some chump who moan’s ‘cos the bookers in their little office have booked them in some matches they think they are above. I’ve been there fuckers. I’ve been in matches with assholes that weren’t even worthy to kiss my boots. I shined in those matches, brought it on 100 per cent and eventually got noticed. That’s why I am a multi-time world champion.”
He caressed his hair.
“The Bastards are CWF, are you only just realising that?” he asked. “We are the Figure Heads of this fucking company, not Kronin, not Armand, not even that bitch Valora. We are the Franchise players for fuck sake. Those other punks don’t deserve the contracts they have. What about how that Dresden bird has decided to put herself back in the fucking game. Remember her match against me a few months back which kicked this all off? Should watch the reruns of that but to be honest why should I? That kid is the past. She should think herself lucky and get back to her rumoured Yiffing fetish, her father must be so fucking proud who ever he is as we all know that Robbie can’t be the only fucking candidate........Bored now.”
Frank shrugged as he looked right passed the camera.
“Now let’s get serious bruv,” he smirked. “Now let me open this fucker up a little bit and talk specifics to the people that I should be talking too. Namely the fucking people that I must......NO!! People that I WILL destroy here in fucking CWF. You know who you fucking are but for those that have been living under a rock for a month or so I will call you out one at a time and hit you with my fucking rant. Got it? Digest it. Live with it. Cry a little from what I fucking say and then after you’ve had your momma tell you everything will be okay move the fuck on. Now fuck off!”
The light goes off.
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