A Badman Heads North Of The Wall

[Frank Windsor]

The camera panned up and it showed the Bastard’s tour bus which seemed to be parked in some service station across the border in Scotland where the next show was been held at. Rob Riot and Billy Fowler were all seen in the background still on the tour bus. Frank Windsor paced in front of it with his tag championship belts over his shoulders; he looked like he was about to explode. A camera was set up in front of him recording his little rant of sorts. “It’s your boy, Frank Windsor; so it’s time to show the world what I’m about,” Frank said as he turned and looked directly at the camera. “The Bastards are a unique crew of like-minded individuals and this is how we are treated? Do you know how that feels like?” He shrugged his shoulders as he started into his rant of sorts. “Here we go again with another fucking tag match for the King of fucking Yorkshire,” Frank said. “Having to go north of the border into the home of the battered Mars bar and Irn Bru is going to be a fun thing for the Bastards to do. This time we’re not against the usual moronic opponents the bosses of this company throw at our feet as some sort of sacrificial lambs; no this time we’ve heard on the grape vine that they’ve thrown a couple of established and talented wrestlers at us.” Frank took one of the belts off of his shoulders and looked at it intently before he turned and put it down on top of his bag. “Donovan and Crane,” he smirked as he said their names. “You may have made names for yourself elsewhere but now you’ve hit a brick fucking wall namely the Bastards. I saw you wittering on Crane the other night and what you forgot was that yes where as Fowler is a threat for you BUT I’m not too shabby in the squared fucking circle wanker. Go on, watch some of the brutal fucking brawls I’ve been in and you have the fucking audacity to overlook me and flap your fucking gums about Billy.” He laid one of the other tag championship belts on top of the other one which left the Wrestle: UK tag championship belt on his shoulder. “Yes, Billy may be the holder of that gold strap you got in your filthy mitts at the show other night but he’s just one third of the greatest fucking trio in professional wrestling,” he said. “I saw the gleam in your beady little eyes when you had that belt of his in your grasp. You may want the tag belts that the Bastards hold too but you’ve not earned a shot at these yet you cum gargling womble.” Frank caressed the belt. “And then there is this other creepy little fuck-tard,” he said. “Marty Donovan; Running around the ring in a pair of tight speedos that leave nothing for the imagination. Have you seen him? He’s got eyes like a sheep’s cunt. He’s like a button fucking mushroom resting on a space fucking hopper. Fucker, it looks like you’re smuggling Mickey into work which is just fucking weird maybe that’s why Crane like to hang out with you in your other promotions.” He put the belt on top of the other two before he turned back and stared intently down the camera lens. “I should really be pissed off with what happened at the last show but to be honest if that cheating fucking cunt thinks he got one over on me by cheating then fuck him,” Frank said. “Oxford will have his heart broken when he learns what happens to people that try to get one over on Frank Windsor. You remember Eddie Havok? Yeah he got into Bastards business and lost the world title back to the REAL World Champion.” Billy can be seen looking through the bus window at Frank. “Frank Windsor had tried to bring home the new Championship belt to the Bastard’s stronghold that got brought out but have been screwed over by some cheap ass cheating,” Frank continued. “There was no fucking lubrication at all but Oxford has to live with that.” Frank noticed Billy and nodded before he continued. “Let’s fuck shit up for them Billy!” proclaimed Frank. “The Bastards have, had enough of complete and utter pricks trying to piggy back their careers off of the back of talent like us. The Bastards had seen it happen all the time whilst they ran rampant through the ranks of all of the promotions that they’ve headlined the marquee outside the fucking arena. People had caught a whiff of what the Bastards are about and wanted to be a part of it as to them we are what this business is all about. They are literally like Vampires. They like to leech off of the big talent of the moment and that is what the Bastard’s are at the moment. That was what the Windsor Effect is all about. It is the big bad that you hear about everywhere.” Billy rolled his eyes before he turned back to what he was doing on the tour bus. “We need to think outside the box once for this match and when it is done and we’ve put those fuckers back in their places,” Frank said. “We need to think of what the Bastards plans are once Oxford’s little fucking puppets are defeated once and for good. Maybe it’s not in the narrative for them but their plan of taking us apart won’t fucking work. I’m sorry guys but bigger names in professional wrestling have tried to do what you’re trying, going look at the RSW years or the NPW year or even the Wrestlewars years and you’ll see why the Bastards are the best fucking team in this industry. That’s a little homework for you gutless punks in their little group, do it. You’ve got more chance of winning the old cunt conga that beating us, now fuck off!”