Post by Frank Windsor on Aug 11, 2021 14:56:47 GMT -5
REAL TALK #2
The Tour Bus that had the Bastards touring Canada was in motion. Frank Windsor was stood in his newly patented “The Sultan of Schlong Style” t-shirt and high cut Daisy Dukes. His get-up was finished with a bright orange pair of flip flops. He started to do some lunges as he warmed up on the bus. Rob Riot had his lap top set up on one of the empty chairs on the other side of the bus which was surrounded by open files and crumpled paper. The Bus was being driven by Billy Fowler.
“So it seems we riled up the Dork Stars Robbie,” Frank said to Rob. “Kang and Kodos or whatever those two sulking, whining pathetic cocks want to be called are basically throwing a strop like a couple of toddlers who have filled their nappies and their mums not around to change them. They are a bunch of tools that have totally brought into their gimmick that the front office at NPW have given them. Do they really think that they are fucking alien time travellers or some sort of bull shit bollocks like that? Come on, it is 2021 and we’ve all been locked down in our homes whilst a pandemic went around this planet but time travelling? I call BS Rob; I think they’ve just been sniffing too many pairs of their grannies soiled undies and got fucking addicted to the juices.”
“This is the Frank I remember,” Rob laughed. “You’re fucking disgusting mate; now you need to do something about that lockdown weight and we’ll be unstoppable. At the moment I do worry about your cardio.”
“I know right but we’re the Bastards Robbie boy,” Frank continued. “We are known around this fucking world as a group of like-minded individuals that came together to put English wrestling back onto the international screens so people could see what it was all about on the right side of the pond. It’s like those former colonists South of the Border tried to get away from their destiny but the Bastards are back over here to tell them that they’re fucking screwed…….”
“You are aware we’re in Canada and not America Frank?” Rob said as he interrupted his tag partner. “Canadian’s are the civilised ones whilst those down South believe that the almighty Twinkie is their God.”
“They think that they’re going to be getting that tag champion shot at the current fucking champs Rob,” Frank said. “But where have they been? Did they see how well we did a Call to fucking Arms? Did they see how we got on in the XHF Trio champion match? Have they seen how we destroyed the Rejects or whatever they fucking want to be called or even Black Widow’s former group the KGB? And I haven’t even mentioned El Guppy and his little friend last show. They don’t really stand much of a fucking chance against a well-oiled machine like the Bastards. What a bunch of twats; shouldn’t be let out without freaking straitjackets on. Have you seen their faces Rob? Well after this match they will look like the bottom of a rat catcher’s freaking hammer after he’s been pounding it all night. Don’t you see it Robbie? Kono has a look on his face that looks like he was licking Niko’s hole and was shocked by the unexpected taste of the pizza they’d had the night before. And Niko just looks fucking bemused.”
“I’ve got no words,” Rob looked at Frank with his mouth open. “No freaking words.”
“I know there are two teams against us and not just the Dork Stars,” Frank said as he shrugged. “But are they really relevant or just been put in the match to enhance the talent in the ring? Well we don’t need fucking enhancements unless we’re talking about you and those little pills you take Robbie? Hunter really enjoyed the match with you that night.”
“Fuck off Frank,” Rob said. “I was told they were vitamins but at least the swelling went down before the match…….mostly.”
“Anyway,” Frank continued without listening to the answer. “Someone’s got to be in this match with some talent in this company. Most of them come across as a group of wankers that have no more of a chance of winning anything that Gary Glitter does of getting into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame which is other that the GSP boys. But the Dork Stars what are they fucking going to do? They are some kind of parody of themselves; damn hooligans are what they are. I could swat them with my left ass cheek. And don’t ask what I could do if I used my right one instead; Hashtag devastating!”
“Why are you always so crude?” the voice of Billy Fowler came from the driver seat. “You are always lowering the tone Frank. And you are starting to stink the place out.”
“Okay you Southern Softy,” Frank muttered. “I had a Yorkshire shower earlier.”
“I wondered who had used my freaking underarm deodorant,” Billy angrily said. “Keep away from my stuff.”
“Things are supposed to happen in threes my gran used to tell me,” Frank said. “When she was sitting on her porch back in Yorkshire, when I was watching all the local kids breaking into cars on her estate and she was pulling bits of chicken out of her false teeth she used to tell me her words of wisdom. So three teams in the match could be fun Robbie. It could be anything. Maybe that dream would come true; you know the one we’ve all had; the one where we have that dream of going into work stark bollock naked. You know what I mean, walking down the ramp way, the tackle flapping in the wind. Hopefully it’s not that. People couldn’t handle the truth of that situation. Hey Fowler, are we there yet?”
“Fuck off,” Fowler muttered from the front.
“So it seems we riled up the Dork Stars Robbie,” Frank said to Rob. “Kang and Kodos or whatever those two sulking, whining pathetic cocks want to be called are basically throwing a strop like a couple of toddlers who have filled their nappies and their mums not around to change them. They are a bunch of tools that have totally brought into their gimmick that the front office at NPW have given them. Do they really think that they are fucking alien time travellers or some sort of bull shit bollocks like that? Come on, it is 2021 and we’ve all been locked down in our homes whilst a pandemic went around this planet but time travelling? I call BS Rob; I think they’ve just been sniffing too many pairs of their grannies soiled undies and got fucking addicted to the juices.”
“This is the Frank I remember,” Rob laughed. “You’re fucking disgusting mate; now you need to do something about that lockdown weight and we’ll be unstoppable. At the moment I do worry about your cardio.”
“I know right but we’re the Bastards Robbie boy,” Frank continued. “We are known around this fucking world as a group of like-minded individuals that came together to put English wrestling back onto the international screens so people could see what it was all about on the right side of the pond. It’s like those former colonists South of the Border tried to get away from their destiny but the Bastards are back over here to tell them that they’re fucking screwed…….”
“You are aware we’re in Canada and not America Frank?” Rob said as he interrupted his tag partner. “Canadian’s are the civilised ones whilst those down South believe that the almighty Twinkie is their God.”
“They think that they’re going to be getting that tag champion shot at the current fucking champs Rob,” Frank said. “But where have they been? Did they see how well we did a Call to fucking Arms? Did they see how we got on in the XHF Trio champion match? Have they seen how we destroyed the Rejects or whatever they fucking want to be called or even Black Widow’s former group the KGB? And I haven’t even mentioned El Guppy and his little friend last show. They don’t really stand much of a fucking chance against a well-oiled machine like the Bastards. What a bunch of twats; shouldn’t be let out without freaking straitjackets on. Have you seen their faces Rob? Well after this match they will look like the bottom of a rat catcher’s freaking hammer after he’s been pounding it all night. Don’t you see it Robbie? Kono has a look on his face that looks like he was licking Niko’s hole and was shocked by the unexpected taste of the pizza they’d had the night before. And Niko just looks fucking bemused.”
“I’ve got no words,” Rob looked at Frank with his mouth open. “No freaking words.”
“I know there are two teams against us and not just the Dork Stars,” Frank said as he shrugged. “But are they really relevant or just been put in the match to enhance the talent in the ring? Well we don’t need fucking enhancements unless we’re talking about you and those little pills you take Robbie? Hunter really enjoyed the match with you that night.”
“Fuck off Frank,” Rob said. “I was told they were vitamins but at least the swelling went down before the match…….mostly.”
“Anyway,” Frank continued without listening to the answer. “Someone’s got to be in this match with some talent in this company. Most of them come across as a group of wankers that have no more of a chance of winning anything that Gary Glitter does of getting into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame which is other that the GSP boys. But the Dork Stars what are they fucking going to do? They are some kind of parody of themselves; damn hooligans are what they are. I could swat them with my left ass cheek. And don’t ask what I could do if I used my right one instead; Hashtag devastating!”
“Why are you always so crude?” the voice of Billy Fowler came from the driver seat. “You are always lowering the tone Frank. And you are starting to stink the place out.”
“Okay you Southern Softy,” Frank muttered. “I had a Yorkshire shower earlier.”
“I wondered who had used my freaking underarm deodorant,” Billy angrily said. “Keep away from my stuff.”
“Things are supposed to happen in threes my gran used to tell me,” Frank said. “When she was sitting on her porch back in Yorkshire, when I was watching all the local kids breaking into cars on her estate and she was pulling bits of chicken out of her false teeth she used to tell me her words of wisdom. So three teams in the match could be fun Robbie. It could be anything. Maybe that dream would come true; you know the one we’ve all had; the one where we have that dream of going into work stark bollock naked. You know what I mean, walking down the ramp way, the tackle flapping in the wind. Hopefully it’s not that. People couldn’t handle the truth of that situation. Hey Fowler, are we there yet?”
“Fuck off,” Fowler muttered from the front.