Post by robriot on Jul 28, 2022 11:04:19 GMT -5
We fade in on the Bastards, in kitchen aprons, standing (appropriately enough) in a kitchen. Billy Fowler, Frank Windsor and Rob Riot fix us with the same insincere grins we’ve come to expect from decades of watching cooking show hosts. Everything is bright and breezy in a way that doesn’t suit the Bastards in any way, shape or form. You get the sense that this is going to be a skit, but Fowler doesn’t seem to be happy about it. He remonstrates with the others through gritted teeth. As the Bastards talk, their fixed grins shift not one iota.
Fowler: I just don’t get why I’m the one that has to be baking.
Riot: Because you’ve got kids. That means you’ve probably baked before. Do you imagine I’ve ever baked?
Fowler: Not in the cooking sense, I guess. Does Windsor not have kids?
Windsor: No comment.
Fowler: No comment? You can’t no comment me on that! Do you have kids?
Windsor: No fucking comment!
Riot: Gents, if we could stick to the plan?
Windsor and Fowler cease their clenched-jaw discussion, allowing Riot to address the camera.
Riot: Good people of the pro wrestling world, welcome to “Cooking with the Bastards!” We’ve been busy in the kitchen today, where Billy’s made us a lovely cake. Billy, tell all the boys and girls what you did.
Fowler: I went online and ordered a cake with all our faces on it from a specialist cake maker.
Windsor: And then I chinned the lad who delivered it because he wanted a tip on top of the service charge.
Riot doesn’t let his grin slip, but he winces a little.
Riot: KAYFABE.
Fowler: Oh shit! Sorry, yeah, I mean I spent all day and all night cooking this beautiful cake. It’s been in the oven for hours, and here it is!
Fowler bends down and battles with the oven door, grunting as he does so. The pause is awkwardly long, leaving Riot and Windsor with their rictus grins for longer than either of them can stand.
Windsor: I can’t feel my fucking cheeks.
Riot: I’ve actually just realised you look terrifying when you smile.
Windsor: I never fucking smile, this is why!
After some muttered cursing and swearing, Fowler surfaces from the oven, carrying a huge cake between his oven mitts. He deposits it on the counter, where we can clearly see it bears the logo and likenesses of The Bastards. Instinctively, Frank Windsor reaches for a large knife. Riot hurriedly snatches it away.
Riot: Frank, what did we say about you and knives?
Windsor: We said “only on Donzig.”
Riot: Yes, we did. Now, Billy, would you like to be mother?
Fowler shoots Riot a glare.
Fowler: Don’t push it.
Riot: I meant would you like to cut the cake?
Fowler: I know what you meant, just don’t push it. Anyway. Who wants a slice of the Bastards? Rob, would you like a slice of the Bastards?
Riot: I’d love one!
Fowler cuts off a large slice of cake and hands it to Riot, who eats it so eagerly he almost chokes.
Fowler: Frank, would you like a slice of the Bastards?
Windsor: Nah I fucking hate sweet shit.
Fowler: ..but for the purposes of this metaphor?
Windsor: Oh. Then yeah, I guess.
Fowler cuts off another slice of the cake and hands it to Frank, who sniffs it in an animal-like way before tossing it over his shoulder. Fowler rolls his eyes.
Fowler: Now, I’m going to cut off a piece for myself because I definitely want a slice of the Bastards, but who else wants a piece?
It becomes apparent that “Cooking with the Bastards” is filmed in front of a live audience when an enormous noise comes from somewhere behind the camera.
Audience (in unison): US! ME! ME! US!
Riot: Of course you do. Because this is Wrestle:UK, and everybody wants a slice of the Bastards.
The mood in the room shifts immediately.
Riot: It’s now beyond apparent that this entire promotion revolves around us. We told the whole world to come take a look at W:UK if you wanted to test yourself against the best in the business, and it seems the whole world was listening. Suddenly, the Brothers Gluck want a piece of the Bastards. The Skulls of Grim want a piece of the Bastards. Oblivion Death Squad wants a piece of the Bastards. Dark Stars want another piece of the Bastards, and I’d be willing to bet PURGE want a piece of the Bastards. Then there’s Donzig-gun and the SWAT rejects. And….someone else. Someone I’ve forgotten.
Fowler: Chris Gibson?
Riot (feigning surprise): Gibson? Who let him in here?
Windsor: I tried to warn them…
Riot: Chris Gibson. A man who asks how much rent is in England. I’ll tell you how much rent is inside your head. Zero. We’ve been living there rent free for years while in the meantime, we forgot you existed at all. You’re not the point here. The point is the whole wrestling world thinks they can take the Bastards a slice at the time, and they’re welcome to try. Because just when they think we’re done…
Fowler ducks down behind the counter again, and comes up with another, identical Bastards cake.
Fowler:…they’ll find there’s a whole lot more to go round.
Windsor: So it doesn’t matter if it’s the fucking ghost of SWAT, Havok’s bicycle bum boys, the Brothers Fuck or anyone else. If you want a piece of the only draw left in professional wrestling, come get yourself some. We’re happy to serve it up. But be careful…
Windsor slings the cake at the camera, where it smashes against the lens and almost totally obscures the shot.
Riot:….because it could all go off in your face. Come on boys, let’s get out of here. How do you think that metaphor worked out, Billy?
Fowler: Overcooked.
Riot: Was that a pun? Don’t do puns, you’re not a funny man.
Fowler: Oi, you bastard!
Windsor: If you want a joke, look at fucking Donzig.
Riot: I don’t find him funny. More kind of tragic. Imagine wanting to lead a team from SWAT into battle. Why not just recruit people from the dementia ward instead?
Fowler: There’s no way he’s allowed anywhere near old people.
Riot: I think you’re confusing him with Eddie D and children. Is it slander to say that on television?
Windsor: No. Slander would be saying something like “Eddie D fucks kids.”
Fowler: That’s gonna cost us. Ohhh boy is that gonna cost us…
The Greatest Thing Going ™ continue to bicker with each other as cake slides off the camera lens, and the shot fades out.
Fowler: I just don’t get why I’m the one that has to be baking.
Riot: Because you’ve got kids. That means you’ve probably baked before. Do you imagine I’ve ever baked?
Fowler: Not in the cooking sense, I guess. Does Windsor not have kids?
Windsor: No comment.
Fowler: No comment? You can’t no comment me on that! Do you have kids?
Windsor: No fucking comment!
Riot: Gents, if we could stick to the plan?
Windsor and Fowler cease their clenched-jaw discussion, allowing Riot to address the camera.
Riot: Good people of the pro wrestling world, welcome to “Cooking with the Bastards!” We’ve been busy in the kitchen today, where Billy’s made us a lovely cake. Billy, tell all the boys and girls what you did.
Fowler: I went online and ordered a cake with all our faces on it from a specialist cake maker.
Windsor: And then I chinned the lad who delivered it because he wanted a tip on top of the service charge.
Riot doesn’t let his grin slip, but he winces a little.
Riot: KAYFABE.
Fowler: Oh shit! Sorry, yeah, I mean I spent all day and all night cooking this beautiful cake. It’s been in the oven for hours, and here it is!
Fowler bends down and battles with the oven door, grunting as he does so. The pause is awkwardly long, leaving Riot and Windsor with their rictus grins for longer than either of them can stand.
Windsor: I can’t feel my fucking cheeks.
Riot: I’ve actually just realised you look terrifying when you smile.
Windsor: I never fucking smile, this is why!
After some muttered cursing and swearing, Fowler surfaces from the oven, carrying a huge cake between his oven mitts. He deposits it on the counter, where we can clearly see it bears the logo and likenesses of The Bastards. Instinctively, Frank Windsor reaches for a large knife. Riot hurriedly snatches it away.
Riot: Frank, what did we say about you and knives?
Windsor: We said “only on Donzig.”
Riot: Yes, we did. Now, Billy, would you like to be mother?
Fowler shoots Riot a glare.
Fowler: Don’t push it.
Riot: I meant would you like to cut the cake?
Fowler: I know what you meant, just don’t push it. Anyway. Who wants a slice of the Bastards? Rob, would you like a slice of the Bastards?
Riot: I’d love one!
Fowler cuts off a large slice of cake and hands it to Riot, who eats it so eagerly he almost chokes.
Fowler: Frank, would you like a slice of the Bastards?
Windsor: Nah I fucking hate sweet shit.
Fowler: ..but for the purposes of this metaphor?
Windsor: Oh. Then yeah, I guess.
Fowler cuts off another slice of the cake and hands it to Frank, who sniffs it in an animal-like way before tossing it over his shoulder. Fowler rolls his eyes.
Fowler: Now, I’m going to cut off a piece for myself because I definitely want a slice of the Bastards, but who else wants a piece?
It becomes apparent that “Cooking with the Bastards” is filmed in front of a live audience when an enormous noise comes from somewhere behind the camera.
Audience (in unison): US! ME! ME! US!
Riot: Of course you do. Because this is Wrestle:UK, and everybody wants a slice of the Bastards.
The mood in the room shifts immediately.
Riot: It’s now beyond apparent that this entire promotion revolves around us. We told the whole world to come take a look at W:UK if you wanted to test yourself against the best in the business, and it seems the whole world was listening. Suddenly, the Brothers Gluck want a piece of the Bastards. The Skulls of Grim want a piece of the Bastards. Oblivion Death Squad wants a piece of the Bastards. Dark Stars want another piece of the Bastards, and I’d be willing to bet PURGE want a piece of the Bastards. Then there’s Donzig-gun and the SWAT rejects. And….someone else. Someone I’ve forgotten.
Fowler: Chris Gibson?
Riot (feigning surprise): Gibson? Who let him in here?
Windsor: I tried to warn them…
Riot: Chris Gibson. A man who asks how much rent is in England. I’ll tell you how much rent is inside your head. Zero. We’ve been living there rent free for years while in the meantime, we forgot you existed at all. You’re not the point here. The point is the whole wrestling world thinks they can take the Bastards a slice at the time, and they’re welcome to try. Because just when they think we’re done…
Fowler ducks down behind the counter again, and comes up with another, identical Bastards cake.
Fowler:…they’ll find there’s a whole lot more to go round.
Windsor: So it doesn’t matter if it’s the fucking ghost of SWAT, Havok’s bicycle bum boys, the Brothers Fuck or anyone else. If you want a piece of the only draw left in professional wrestling, come get yourself some. We’re happy to serve it up. But be careful…
Windsor slings the cake at the camera, where it smashes against the lens and almost totally obscures the shot.
Riot:….because it could all go off in your face. Come on boys, let’s get out of here. How do you think that metaphor worked out, Billy?
Fowler: Overcooked.
Riot: Was that a pun? Don’t do puns, you’re not a funny man.
Fowler: Oi, you bastard!
Windsor: If you want a joke, look at fucking Donzig.
Riot: I don’t find him funny. More kind of tragic. Imagine wanting to lead a team from SWAT into battle. Why not just recruit people from the dementia ward instead?
Fowler: There’s no way he’s allowed anywhere near old people.
Riot: I think you’re confusing him with Eddie D and children. Is it slander to say that on television?
Windsor: No. Slander would be saying something like “Eddie D fucks kids.”
Fowler: That’s gonna cost us. Ohhh boy is that gonna cost us…
The Greatest Thing Going ™ continue to bicker with each other as cake slides off the camera lens, and the shot fades out.