A Badman Counts To Three

[Frank Windsor]

The lights came on and it was shining down on a wrestling ring; not just any ring but the ring that Rob Riot had helped train and shape Frank Windsor into the professional wrestler he is today. Frank sat in one of the corners and was looking towards a camera pointing directly at his face. “As I sit here where my career first started I have to think about where all that time has gone?” Frank asked. “It was here in this building that I began my rise to greatness. Blackpool is a big place for professional wrestling and it was here that with Robbie’s help that the Sultan of Schlong Time took his first step on that ladder. If it wasn’t for my training here Frank Windsor wouldn’t have been a multi-time World Champion in this sport; but now is the time to pass the torch, this is Fowler’s time to shine, and it’s time for him to claim the World Championship in this new promotion that brought out our contracts from NPW.” He stretched his legs out beneath him. “Shine he will as he’ll then be known as a champion with the Bastards and not just a glorified enforcer slash bag carrier for the group as reported in some of those shitty fucking dirt sheets,” he continued. “Look who he’s got in the World Championship tournie fucking thing. None of them are half as good as Fowler on paper and in the real fucking world Fowler’s forgotten half of what these pissants know. He’s fucking got this especially with Robbie and me backing him up.” Frank reached down to his left and caressed the GCW World Heavyweight Championship belt that was on the canvas. “Anyway I’ve not turned up here in Blackpool to put Fowler over with the fans of proper wrestling here in Wrestle: UK,” he said. “The big man can do that himself. I’m sitting here to get my thoughts together. This week we’re going to be facing a couple of losers from Thailand to unify the tag championship belts. Did anyone watch those press conferences they did? They couldn’t even be together on the screen together to give a unified front. If they can’t even do that together how can they be expected to team together in OUR ring?” He looked down to the right and caressed the tag championship belt he had won with Rob Riot in NPW. “They claim to be the underdogs but that can’t be right,” Frank said. “To call yourselves underdogs would actually require you to actually stand a chance to beat us even if it is a very, very slim chance. That should be really fucking funny guys BUT everyone knows you’ve got no chance at all. I don’t know how many more times but those gold straps are coming home with the Bastards.” Frank nodded as he continued. “Now I must mention something else that has been bugging me recently,” he continued. “My associate Finn told me that there is this guy that doesn’t work for the company that is flapping his fucking gums like some cheap ass Blackpool hooker calling out the Bastards as he used to be in RSW when some of the Bastards were running rampant in the company.” Frank yawned at the camera. It was an over exaggerated yawn. “Hey Jakie or whatever you fucking call yourself,” he said as he looked at the camera. “My name is Frank Windsor and I’m a part of the greatest triple threat in professional wrestling and I know a thing about getting your name across with the fans and thinking that calling out the Bastards is the way to go. It’s a good thing we’ve got a fucking sense of humour you fucking cock womble otherwise we’d take our boots and kick you so far up the ass that you’d be flossing with my fucking boot laces. If I see you in our squared circle during the battle royale I’m going to throw your fucking ass down on to the concrete.” A smirk crossed his face as he continued his rant. “Things are supposed to happen in threes my old 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.” He held his left hand up counting off his fingers. “Two of the three things I’ve spoken about already so what was going to be the third thing I ask myself,” he muttered. “With the tag championship belts around our waists and Fowler one step further towards the world championship it needs to be something fucking spectacular. We will finally rid the world of the talentless enhancement talent in some would call spectacular fashion but to be honest the only thing SWAT will be remembered for is it sucks ass. But whilst its carcass is rotting and the bugs are eating the soft parts we need to really think about what the third thing is going to be.” Only one finger was left his middle finger. “It could be anything,” Frank continued. “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. No, it’ll be that one of the Bastards will also be crowned Wrestle: UK’s first ever Commonwealth champion too. Can you see it? We will be dripping in fucking gold. The only way others can win is getting some old guy to build them a time fucking machine.” He flipped the bird at the camera. “Now fuck off and leave me to train,” he said as he pushed the camera over.