A Badman And A Couple Of Inbred Hill Billies

[Frank Windsor]

Frank Windsor was sat on a metal chair in the middle of the locker room in the arena that the Wrestle: UK had broadcast their last show from on the road to their first pay per view back in the United Kingdom. The ring crew were still in the arena to break down the ring. He was sat there ever so quietly as if he was picking through his own thoughts ready for what he was going to say to the fans of Wrestle: UK. Upon his left shoulder was one of the Wrestle: UK Tag Championship belts and on the other was one of the NPW Imperial Crown Tag Championship belts both that he had won with his stable mate Rob Riot. He was wearing his patented Leopard fur coat over his street clothes as well as his designer sunglasses upon the top of his head as he’d not had a match at the last show. “So last show I was not wrestling on the show and people have been speculating that I was injured once again and wouldn’t be able to defend these tag belts at the Battle of Britain,” Frank muttered ever so quietly as he built himself up. “Would I do that to the fans of the Bastards? Hell fucking no! All of the fans of the Bastards know that Frank fucking Windsor would wrestle injured if he had to and that these tag championship belts that Robbie and I hold are going to have to be ripped out of our cold dead hands if anyone wants them.” He took off his designer sunglasses and took out a piece of cloth from his coat and began to clean them as he continued. “The Glucks, we see you,” he said. “We see you have been thrown into the Bastards fucking path you wankers. You’re a bunch of fucking inbred brothers from some fucking Hill Billy family where your fucking mother is also your sister too. She should be the Queen of the dick-sucking contest with her boys but they don’t like her use of the teeth. Best to be quiet both of you, have you seen what diseases your sister mother has probably got? Chapps and Carlton, I read somewhere that you hail from the shit pits of fucking Mississippi which on its own sounds like some sort of place that they’d film a new version of Deliverance .” After he had finished with cleaning his sunglasses he put them on top of his head and then carefully put the cloth back into the pocket of his coat. “Why are you fucking trying to step up this week Brother Glucks?” Frank asked. “You may have had an easy ride to get to be the number fucking one contenders for our belts but it will make a fucking change for someone other than the Dork Stars from stepping up to Robbie and I. Did you see the Main Event of the last show that one of the Bastards was involved in? Did you see how Fowler stood up alone to the tag team that have the back of the cowardly transitional World Champion? See how Fowler held himself? That’s what a real champion holds himself like; much like Robbie and I do. We were here from the beginning of this company but where were you? Oh right, you were opening the piggly wiggly show back on the compound in Mississippi but failing to do get any sort of fucking reaction from even the fucking live stock. Leave the big matches for people like Frank fucking Windsor and the rest of the fucking Bastards.” He shrugged his shoulders as he thought of what he was going to say now. “Do you think that those tag belts that the Bastards have around our waists are going back to that shit pit you Brothers call a home?” he said. “I do not fucking thinks so you couple of pig fucking cunts can jog the fuck on; now then talking about fucking title matches. A few months back the current Wrestle: UK World Champion broke my fucking arm trying to beat me but couldn’t get the job done without his little gang’s help. Now he has to go up again a seven foot fucking monster who is pissed off with him and I wouldn’t wish the wrath of Billy on anyone except for probably you Havok and maybe that ass clown Donzig too.” Frank looked at the tag championship belt on his shoulder before he turned and looked back down the camera lens. “This is our first fucking pay per view on this Network and the eyes of the fucking world are on us,” Frank said. “We are going to be a big thing that quite a lot of those glorified fucking enhancement talent from other promotions on this dying Network want to make a name for themselves by throwing their hats in the Battle of Britain match. Once again I fucking predict a Brit to win the fucking Battle like we did last time when we kept them mother fucking Nazi’s out of the fucking country.” A smirk crossed his lips. “We fucking beat those Nazi’s back across the North Sea with those fucking Spitfires and Hurricanes shooting down the German Luftwaffe’s planes,” Frank said with a proud smile on his face. “And then those Yanks from across the pond came in at the end of the war and as usual tried to take the accolades from all those that had been fighting for years; now that’s why the world thinks Americans are just fucking cunts. Tough love but all true.” He nodded as he was thinking what to say next. “So you may have seen an extra member of the group recently,” he said. “He’s off filming something at the moment but will be with us again sometime soon. Anyway now I’ve got to go see some good music and drink some great beer in this city. Now fuck off!!”