A Badman Reveals Some Home Truths

[Frank Windsor]

The camera panned up and the figure of Frank Windsor came into focus. He was dressed in an expensive suit and his trade mark designer sun glasses were on his bruised face. Frank looked like he’d been through a war but his clothes were on point. There was something different about him; his whole body language had changed from his usual fun side. He was totally focused on the business to come. Natalia, Frank’s girlfriend was absent from her usual place above his shoulder as she was off in Hawaii filming the pilot show for another wrestling promotion. If her plans worked out there may be more pies for Frank to put his fingers in. He paused for a few moments before he glared down the camera lens. “Why Frank? Why did you do that? I can hear you all now,” Frank said. “Why did you attack the referee to save your belts? I know their all saying it out there. Well who the fuck do you think the Bastards are? We’ve been saying it since we came to this fucking company. We do whatever the hell we want to keep our place in this company. We haven’t been hiding it from any of you. Look who’s talking for fucks sake, the Bad Man moniker isn’t just a fucking gimmick to get me over with those out there that buy Bastards merchandise.” He nodded as he got his thoughts in line. “We are booked strong as that’s what we are worth to this company,” he continued. “Some think we are protected because we bring lots of money for Mister Blood’s fucking pocket BUT we are worth it. Look at what we bring to the squared fucking circle and then judge us for our spots. All three members of the Bastards are multiple time World Heavyweight Champions in the companies that we’ve fucking bled for. We’ve held multiple mid to low level Championship gold in most of those companies too. BUT that is not what we’re known for is it?” Frank reached off camera and pulled something into shot. “This is what we’re known for,” Frank held up one of his tag belts. “This is what the three of us have been known for but now it’s different. Mister Blood thinks to throw a wedge between us all by bribing the others with gold of their own and denying it to the real Bastard of this trio. I know your plans Mister Blood, braver and more intelligent owners of wrestling promotions have tried this before and we’ve always turned it back on themselves. Now should I be worried about Mister Blood’s scheming or just turn up the volume on Frank fucking Windsor?” He threw the tag belt over his shoulder and continued his rant of sorts. “Now that’s brought you all the way up to date and we’re moving onto Aberdeen,” he continued. “We should really talk about what’s going on there shouldn’t we? Robbie’s putting his gold strap on the line against that bird, DiMaria right? Why should that bother me I hear you mumbling, why should it? Well I’ll tell you why in a moment but let me talk to you about the match I’m in; it is a three way fucking dance with someone who goes by the moniker of God of Xtreme? Really? Is that what you want your legacy to be? Bone Smasher, Arm Breaker, Ass Destroyer? I don’t fucking care what your little nickname is mate; I saw you wrestle before brah; you think you’re that good? Wait, you do? How fucking quaint.” He straightened his suit jacket and looked at the camera once again. “Also in this fucking match is a guy that I just went to war with literally days ago,” Frank said. “Jay Stevens, really? You’d have thought that you’d have had enough of the Bastards but you get put into this match in an attempt at fucking redemption because you and your little friend were handed their own asses? It’s going to be fun to destroy you again but what’s the incentive? Oh yeah I said I’d come back to this didn’t I?” He got serious for a moment and then continued. “The winner of this match gets a fucking shot at the Wrestle: UK’s Commonwealth Champion,” he thinks about something for a minute. “And that is my compadre Robert Riot isn’t it, well unless that prick tease DiMaria flashes a nipple and distracts him. Oh yeah I went there, I’m not a fucking sexist pig as you’ll probably think I am DiMaria but you’ve got more chance of fucking Mister Blood with a twelve inch strap on with NO lube than beating Robbie; oh and before you say anything, Mister Blood would probably like it a bit too much sweet cheeks. So when I beat Spike and Jay I get to face my brother from another fucking mother Rob for that gold belt he has. Now that’ll be interesting won’t it?” A voice said something to him off camera which got Frank’s full attention. “Wait, what?” he talked to someone off camera. “She quit? She walked out on Mister Blood’s epic push? She had it all but wait does that mean I can’t use my one liners that I’d saved up for if we’d been in a match sometimes. You accused the whole locker room of being sexist pigs and I can deny that as we didn’t think of that fucking crack whore bimbo that will probably be buried in a Y shaped coffin as a sexual object; no, literally hell the fuck NO! I wouldn’t go anywhere near that fucking tart with a barge pole; fuck, I’d not even let one of my Bastard brothers go near that. So who’s replacing her in the match?” The voice off camera mumbled something else. “Armand?” Frank asked the person off camera as a smirk appeared on his face. “Captain of the Clown Squad? Really? No really? You’re having me on right? You ain’t? FUCK OFF!”