The October Challenge

[JStarr]

No, that subtitle was not me remembering something I'd just forgotten. That was the object of this challenge. I want crap.

Not that kind of crap, either. I mean WrestleCrap. Have you written something in your diary career that makes the Gobbledy Gooker look like great booking? Let's see it. Whether it's a worker being stuck with a retarded gimmick (and no, segments involving Eugene are not automatic winners), a storyline that just made no sense whatsoever in the end, or a rambling, nonsensical promo that still qualified as oddly entertaining, go ahead and link it. If you do have a goofy storyline, please post a brief summary of events before and after along with the specific segment where you judged the whole thing to jump the shark (no, not John Tenta, either).

This will be open to ANY diary that you have ever written on this board, PROVIDED you can find it and link to it. As a bonus, you can add as many entries as you can find...BUT! This can carry some risk. Any entry that all three judges deem to be not WrestleCrap, but plain old regular crap, will be disqualified AND it will take another entry with it to be determined at random. So, your worst (best?) stuff might take out your best (worst?) entry, and that would suck. So don't spam the thread with 25 different segments, just hoping for a numbers advantage, unless you firmly stand behind the Crappiness of all your work.

As per usual, I will need two judges to sit at my left and right hands, one of whom must fan me with palm fronds and the other who must feed me grapes. Okay, you just have to vote is all. Votes will be determined on the basis of how well the Crap is written, how entertainingly goofy the Crap is, and upon the characters involved. (Seriously, if you made Triple H gay enough to frighten Rico AND Goldust, good job. And post that shit.)

The judges will vote on their FIVE TO TEN favorite entries (depending on number of total entries left after DQ's) IN ORDER of Crappiness, and the winner gets the usual 20 KOTD points. However, each writer will only be ranked on the basis of their highest-placing entry, so no finishing first, fourth, AND ninth. One place per writer, thank you. Deadline is one week from Monday, that being October 13th, 11:59 PM Eastern time.

[LL!]

Something I'm doing at Unforgiven might qualify for this.

[NobBe Nobbs]

I would throw my hat into the ring for judgedom, but frankly I don't want to get it dirty, for it is a fedora and is a fantastic hat. One of my best friends sent it to me because he didn't get me anything for my birthday and thought it would be perfect. I am inclined to agree with him.

Now then. Why should I be considered for this position?

Firstly, I fan like a motherfucker. Close your eyes and ears and you wouldn't be able to tell if it were me fanning or a real electric fan. Seriously, up and down, left and right, maybe diagonally just to change things up a bit, I can do it all. Can you get all that from an electric fan? Fuck and no you cannot. I don't mind which of your hands I'm obliged to sit on, but I fear one hand may not be enough. I wouldn't call myself fat, but I am a little porky. I'm told I also taste great with applesauce, although the person who said this was both a) stoned like a boulder and b) not a chick - if the situation had been otherwise, I would have made a timely double entendre involving tasting my meat (it's a euphemism for oral sex you know).

Secondly, I am immune to crap. While many people clawed out their eyes at the sight of tubgirl for the first time and exploded with horrified vomit after watching 2girls1cup, I walked through the valley in the shadow of the human psyche and came out sane the other side. This is clearly an asset. You and I will dealing with (hopefully) some of the worst, most nonsensical things ever committed to these forums and it will not be an easy journey. Just as Frodo needed Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir, Sam, Gandalf, those dwarves, some eagles, Miranda whatsherface and a lot of other shit to get the Ring to Mount Doom, you need me to prevent you from banning people based on their literary atrocities.

Thirdly, fuck Dukes.

Fourthly and most importantly, I created British Randy Orton. On some godforsaken plane of existence, a besuited Randy Orton is toiling ceaselessly in his inability to talk without using British slang. The fact I wrote that and yet have redeemed myself enough to be voted into the Power 25 shows that I have journeyed into the land of crap and returned alive. I know where the line between "Crap" and "Wrestlecrap" lies.

Fifthly, my opponents for this position all support sex education for newborn babies. All of them. Every last one.

I'm John McBe and I approve this message.

[TheRaySays]

From The Evolution of Wrestling, NWA: Hardcore City (May 7th, 2004)...

3. An Offer That Cannot Be Refused:

When we return, we’re greeted with a close shot of the door to “FRANCINE’S CHAMPAGNE ROOM – THERE ARE NO RULES IN THE CHAMPAGNE ROOM.” We pull back to show the door flanked by The Pitbulls, their massive arms folded against their chests, spiked dog collars hooked tight around their bulging necks, and a thoroughly empty expression fixed on their faces. Spanky practically skips into frame, dressed in an archaic suit and a fedora, an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth. He reaches out to knock, but Pitbull I catches his fist and squeezes.

Pitbull I: “What you think you’re doin’, Little Man?”

Spanky holds up a closed briefcase.

Spanky: “I’m here to see The Queen of Extreme about some bizness. Is Her Majesty in?”

Pitbull I: “Yeah, but she ain’t…”

Francine: (shouted from inside) “Oh, just let him in!”

Pitbull II opens the door and we follow Spanky into Francine Fournier’s exclusive Viking Hall dressing room. She lounges on a black leather sofa in the dim light, a red lycra minidress clinging to her curves. A bowl of strawberries and a glass of champagne sit on a checkerboard art deco table alongside a bottle on ice.

Francine theatrically swings one leg over the other to sit facing Spanky. She adjusts the strap on her clear lucite stiletto heel before taking up the glass of bubbly.

Francine: “What do YOU want?”

Spanky: “I have an offer… an offer I’m told you can’t refuse.”

He sets the briefcase on the table and opens it. Before he turns it to face her, we can see it is overflowing with crumpled bills and some loose coins.

Spanky: “Thirty-four thousand dollars and sixty-two cents. Payment for services of a… personal nature. Services, I’m told, you provide beyond compare.”

Francine: “Waitaminute. Are you saying I’m a WHORE?! Are you offering me thirty-four thousand dollars to…”

Spanky: “…and sixty-two cents…”

Francine: “Are you trying to buy sex from me?”

Spanky: “Well, it’s more of a rental thing, I guess, but um… you’re not going to call The Pitbulls in here to break my neck are you?”

Francine: “Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn’t?”

Spanky: “I think you’re looking at thirty-four thousand reasons.”

Francine: (pauses) “Thirty-four thousand dollars… and sixty-two cents… to sleep with you?”

Spanky: (laughs) “Oh NO! No, not with me… with Shark Boy. I think it’s just about time he became a… y’know… Shark MAN.”

Francine: “Are you SERIOUS?! I can’t… I…”

Spanky: “Well, *I* can’t do it. He’s my tag team partner. Help me out here, Toots. I’m offering fair compensation, I think. Look, to be honest, I’m not even sure the kid knows which end is up, so to speak, but I figger if anyone can… er… set ‘im straight, it’d be you.”

Francine: “I can’t believe this. I’ll tell you what… Spanky… Give me one week to make a counter offer. We juuuust might be able to work something out.”

Spanky: “Fantastic! I look forward to hearing from you then.”

Spanky slams the briefcase shut and slides it off the table. He takes up the bottle of champagne and clinks it against her glass.

Spanky: “To bizness and pleasure…”

He brings the bottle to his lips and begins to chug, but Francine holds up a finger and wags it at him. The camera pulls back to find Spanky flanked by The Pitbulls. He sheepishly swallows the champagne and sets the bottle back in the ice bucket with a mischievous smile.

Francine: “Boys, show Mister Spanky the door.”

(66. The Queen of Extreme gained 3 points of overness from holding court.)

One of these days, I'm going to finish this angle...

Somewhere I remember laying the groundwork for "Kwee Wee vs. Abdullah the Butcher: Hell in a GEO Metro", but don't think it ever made it to the board.

Edited October 5, 2008 by TheRaySays

[TheRaySays]

From We Built This Forum (On Our Diaries), AWA All Star Wrestling (January 8th, 1990 with the dreadful Team Challenge Series in full swing)...

Match 4: “The Illustrious” Johnnie Stewart w/Col. DeBeers vs. Scott “Flash” Norton w/The Trooper vs. Kokina Maximus w/Sheik Adnan Al-Kaisie in a Short Stack Flapjack Challenge

Stewart is out first with The Colonel, and wanders around ringside in a general state of unease. Stewart seems to be in the market for a pep talk, but DeBeers doesn’t look too interested in giving one. “The Illustrious One” takes a pancake in hand and… tests its weight?

Norton’s out next, quickly joined by The Trooper, who gives him the old manly handshake and pat on the shoulder. Norton seems to be sizing up the pancakes and nodding his approval. Lastly, Sheik Adnan Al-Kaisie leads Kokina Maximus to ringside. Col. DeBeers is quick to saunter over to them, drawing the ire of Lee Marshall, who questions the inter-team fraternizing.

Eric Bischoff is down to ringside to preside over this tomfoolery. He returns The Trooper’s hat to him, then explains that “This challenge will be broken into three rounds with this, the first, counting for one point. The goal is to see how many pancakes you can stack on one saucer in sixty seconds. You must balance the saucer in one hand and stack pancakes from the main trolley with the other. You are not allowed to touch the other competitors nor their pancakes. Good luck.” He turns to Referee Al DeRusha who stands by with a stopwatch. “On your marks… Get set… Go!”

Sixty seconds has never seemed so long. We get some half-hearted attempts at comedy as Kokina Maximus tries to use his girth block out access to the tray by Scott Norton, who struggles to reach around the big Samoan without touching him. This visibly frustrates Norton until he juggles his saucer and all but one of his pancakes fall to the floor.

Finally, Bischoff calls “Time!”, and Johnnie Stewart is told to put down the last pancake he was trying to sneak onto his stack afterwards. The final tally is Stewart with 15, Kokina with 17, and Norton with a lowly 1. Kokina takes the first round and earns a point for Larry’s Legends while “Flash” fumes.

Two of Kokina’s pancakes are put on Norton’s saucer, then another dozen from the cart, to bring each man up to 15. Bischoff puts the saucers on the tables, one at each, and encourages the competitors to sit. Kokina struggles to get comfortable in the chair, while Norton turns his around so he leans over the back, flexing his massive arms in anticipation of what’s to come.

Bischoff pours syrup over each stack, then steps a short distance away. “The next round is worth two points to the man who can eat the most pancakes in sixty seconds using nothing but your hands. Al, are you ready with the stopwatch? Okay… On your marks… Get set… Go!”

Stewart stuffs his first into his mouth with reckless abandon, then finds himself struggling to choke it down. Norton and Kokina are more methodical, tearing theirs up and working at them diligently. Norton’s actually smart enough to dig into the bottom part of his stack, avoiding the troublesome syrup. Despite everyone’s best efforts, however, the whole thing is a ridiculous, retarded mess, with fragments of pancake and globs of syrup getting everywhere.

“Ten… Nine… Eight…” Bischoff shouts at the top of his lungs, but no one in the audience bothers counting along. “Three… Two… One… Time!”

Stewart coughs and spits up a doughy ball of mush, and Bischoff feels the need to look to the referee, who shakes his head. “I’m told that doesn’t count. So… We’ve got… uh… one and a half for Johnnie Stewart.” Stewart wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and storms away from the table, visibly frustrated.

“Okay, we’ve got… NINE for Scott Norton! Wow! And over here… we’ve got… TEN for Kokina Maximus! What a close contest, but Kokina gets the win and two points for Larry’s Legends!”

Scott Norton rips off his shirt and wipes his mouth and hands on it, then throws it down on the table angrily. Sheik Adnan Al-Kaisie rubs Kokina’s belly and presumably makes a silent wish. Kokina smiles a toothy grin and licks his lips greedily.

Referee Al DeRusha climbs into the ring as Bischoff walks over to the apron. “The final round is going to be the toughest. This is going to be a 3-man match, and the winner must score a pinfall over BOTH of his opponents… SIMULTANEOUSLY… one stacked on top of the other. Because of the difficulty of this challenge, the winner will earn FIVE points for his team, and this will go to TV time remaining. As soon as all three men are in the ring, Referee Al DeRusha will call for the bell, and we’ll see who comes out on top!”

Scott Norton gets a pat on the back from The Trooper while Sheik Adnan Al-Kaisie whispers some kind of strategy to Kokina. “The Illustrious” Johnnie Stewart is left to his own devices as Col. DeBeers actively withdraws from him when he approaches, giving him a generally disdainful sneer.

We get the opening bell, and Kokina goes straight for Johnnie Stewart, who quickly retreats. Stewart finds himself trapped, unable to get away from the bulky Samoan, who just pummels him with right hands in the corner. The referee doesn’t get the chance to call for the break as Scott Norton turns Kokina around and whips him hard across to the far turnbuckles.

Kokina stumbles out, one sticky hand at the small of his back. Norton catches him… and SLAMS him! Eric Bischoff, back at the announce position, can hardly believe it. Scott flexes for the unappreciative crowd and then stomps over to Stewart, who still slumps in the corner. He pulls Stewart out and sets himself in position, making sure Kokina is still lying prone behind him. Norton takes a front facelock and gets a fistful of tights, possibly looking to suplex Stewart onto Kokina and go for the pin.

Stewart gets his leg around that of Norton to block the suplex attempt, however. There’s a brief impasse, then Stewart breaks the hold with a heelish and undetected knee to the groin. Norton staggers away and leans on the ropes with his legs drawn together in pain. Stewart pulls himself up into a seated position on the top turnbuckle, then leaps off the middle ropes to drive a knee into the forehead of Kokina Maximus, keeping him flailing on the canvas.

Scott Norton returns, still staggering. Stewart hits a dropkick that sends him reeling, and he stumbles backward into Kokina, losing his balance. “The Illustrious One” goes to the middle ropes on the opposite side and nails Norton with a jumping knee drop! He climbs up onto the mound of humanity and gets 1… 2… Kokina gets his shoulder up, and Stewart comes tumbling off of the pile.

All three men get back to their feet. Kokina grabs Stewart by the hair and delivers a big head butt that drops him like a stone. He then turns to see Norton coming off the ropes at a clip. Norton BLASTS him with a big clothesline, and Kokina topples backward to squash Stewart with a nearly audible rush of air. “Flash” dives on top as the referee counts the 1… 2… 3-NO! Kokina throws Norton off of him at the last instant. The Trooper slaps the mat, shouting “Come on, Flash!” Eric Bischoff apologizes for going to commercial, but promises us that “Tape is running, and we’ll see the finish to this match no matter what!”

– Mid-Match Commercials –

We’re back to see Referee Al DeRusha struggling to free Kokina from the Andre the Giant special, where his arms are tangled up in the ropes with his big ass sat on the canvas. Meanwhile, Scott Norton has Johnnie Stewart in a big bear hug, and is just shaking the life out of him. With the referee distracted, Stewart is able to go to the eyes in desperation and break the hold.

He hits the ropes and comes off with a running dropkick that knocks the blinded Norton into DeRusha and into Kokina. Johnnie frees Kokina and immediately begs off, pointing down at Norton. The two start laying stomps into Norton until Stewart drags “Flash” into position in the center of the ring. He gestures, roughly indicating a big splash. Kokina hits it as directed, then quickly rolls out of the way to avoid the obvious cheap shot elbow drop from Stewart, which hits Norton instead.

Kokina goes back to the ropes as Stewart gets up, and Stewart gets turned inside-out with a clothesline. With the referee just starting to rouse, Kokina climbs up to the top turnbuckle. The Trooper cries foul, but no one’s listening. Lee Marshall gets in on the action. “This should be an automatic disqualification!”

Kokina leaps off, practically splashing the guts out of Johnnie Stewart. “Good heavens!” cries Lee. “That’s gotta break some ribs!” Kokina then throws Scott Norton on top of Stewart and jerks the referee up to his feet. He shakes Al DeRusha back to consciousness then lays on top of his fallen foes. DeRusha slowly counts the 1... 2... 3.

WINNER: Kokina Maximus sweeps the challenge, with Johnnie Stewart on the bottom of the piled pinfall after an illegal Top Rope Maximus Splash.

O:54. C:40. M:68. Larry’s Legends: 13 + 8 = 21 pts.

Violated

Kokina gets his hand raised, but The Trooper is in the ring in no time to plead the case for disqualification. This brings in Sheik Adnan Al-Kaisie, who vehemently denies any illegal activity took place. There’s plenty of shouting and finger pointing, but neither man is getting far with the beleaguered referee.

Kokina Maximus gets in The Trooper’s face, trying to intimidate him, but The Trooper just pulls out his ticket pad and scribbles something, then rips off a sheet and sticks it to Kokina’s syrup-tacky chin. “You’ve just been fined for failure to yield… Keep it up, and you’ll be cited for obstruction of justice!” he shouts, picked up on the microphone still attached to his lapel.

Suddenly, Col. DeBeers slides into the ring and takes The Trooper down with a forearm to the back of the head. He stomps the fallen hat flat, then starts laying combat boots to the bandaged area of The Trooper’s skull, ignoring the tugging arms of Referee Al DeRusha. Kokina Maximus crumples up the ticket and joins in the beatdown, until Baron Von Raschke leads Paul Diamond and “Yukon” John Nord down the aisle and to the rescue.

The heels scatter as Baron’s Blitzers hit the ring, but The Trooper is left lying on the canvas, his boot kicking feebly at the mat and his hands clutched over his head. Paul tries to check on him, but can’t get The Trooper to move his hands so he can see. One would think The Trooper was holding his brains in or something.

“This is just sickening! The Trooper’s going to need immediate medical attention!” cries an outraged Lee Marshall.

“What about Johnnie Stewart?!” offers a disturbingly excited Eric Bischoff. “He might have cracked ribs or even a punctured lung! Folks, we’re out of time. We’ll let you know how this turns out next week… on All… Star… Wrestling!”

55. (The Trooper gained overness from getting his head caved in. Sheik Adnan Al-Kaisie gained overness from knowing when to retreat.)

One of these days, I'm going to try to resurrect this clusterfuck of a fed and give it unholy life...

Edited October 5, 2008 by TheRaySays

[C-MIL]

I believe you simply post your entry in here, given that this isn't going to be anonymous or anything.

[HailtotheYo]

I'll judge seeing as how I haven't written any crap to enter ....

[JStarr]

You were good, Ray. Post away for judging.

EDIT: And there we have it. Be and HttK will be judges. Holy shit, this could get interesting.

Edited October 4, 2008 by Sinistarr

[Sousa]

SHUT YER HOLES, PUKES.

IT'S TIME FOR HONKY TONK BOOT CAMP!

Background: The Honky Tonk Man lost his WCW Television Title match against Johnny B. Badd at the November Clash of the Champions thanks to an attack by Arn Anderson, who had grown tired of the influence of "outsiders" in WCW. Over the next few weeks, a three-way feud would erupt, with Badd angry at Arn for tainting his Clash victory, Arn wishing for a TV Title shot against Badd, and Honky generally getting the shit kicked out of him by both men. Finally, the Honky Tonk Man could take no more. After being beaten by Arn in a quick match on WCW Saturday Night, Honky Tonk Man escaped and said this...

Honky: So that's the way it's gonna be, Anderson? So that's the way it's gonna be? I wanna wrestle you, and you wanna kill me? Well the Honky Tonk Man don't play that tune, baby! You wanna come after me like that? I'm gonna need some help in my corner! That's right: ladies and gentlemen, very soon, you're gonna see the Honky Tonk Man's protege! Thank you very much, good night!

And the next week... that's what the fans got.

----------

With that, Tony Schiavone informs us that he has been given a video to show the fans. And they do, and the title of the segment soon flashes on the screen, bubbly pink letters on top of a camoflauge field:

HONKY TONK BOOT CAMP

Part 1: Dancin'

The scene begins in a large open field, where The Honky Tonk Man is looking out over what appear to be line after line of soldiers. Honky is sitting in a pink Cadillac, his guitar at his side. He turns to the camera and grins.

Honky: See that right there? That's where we're gonna find my help.

The shot cuts away to numerous instances of the Honky Tonk Man being humiliated by Arn Anderson and Johnny B. Badd in recent weeks.

Honky: Time and time again, Arn Anderson, Johnny B. Badd, you've tried to make the Honky Tonk Man look the fool! And the only answer I can think of for it is that you're workin' together! Well if that's the way it's gonna be, then two can play at that game!

The camera cuts back to Honky, who is now out of the Cadillac and walking toward the ranks.

Honky: I'm gonna find me my own sidekick--a true protege, worthy of the name The Honky Tonk Kid!

Honky walks toward the front of the ranks and is greeted by a salute from the man in charge of this motley crew of misfits. The man is a stout, muscular black man dressed a drill sergeant, a wild-eyed look on his face. Honky grins, saluting right back.

Honky: As you were, Sarge. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a man so tough they called him "The Pitbull," and he's my drill sergeant, baby... Sgt. Craig Pittman!

Pittman: It is an honor to serve Honky Tonk Boot Camp, SIR!

Honky: Right, right... let's whip these yung'uns into shape!

The camera cuts to Pittman walking across the ranks, getting into the faces of the young recruits as he speaks.

Pittman: NOW LET'S MAKE ONE THING CLEAR! Your mamas ain't here to help you! Your mamas can't dance! Your daddies don't rock & roll! I'M your daddy now! And Honky Tonk Man is your mama! So you can either stand there like a bunch of squares, lookin' like you're about to drop a brick in your pants, or you can make your Honky Tonk Mama proud! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?

Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!

Pittman: YOU MAGGOTS DEAF!? YOU GOT SOMETHIN' IN YOUR EARS!? YOU AIN'T GONNA GROOVE TO THIS TUNE IF YOU CAN'T EVEN HEAR ME CALLIN' YOU MAGGOTS OUT! NOW DO... I... MAKE... MY... SELF... CLEAR!?

Recruits: SIR, YES, SIR!

The camera cuts away to shots of Pittman shouting at the recruits as they stand in pairs of tires, moving their legs back and forth as Honky sings in the background.

Pittman: AND SHUCK AND JIVE AND SHUCK AND JIVE AND SHUCK AND JIVE AND SHUCK AND JIVE AND ROCK AND ROLL AND ROCK AND ROLL AND ROCK AND ROLL AND ROCK AND ROLL!

The camera cuts to another recruit under a barbed wire-topped pit, struggling to move his arms up and down as he remains on his back under the wire.

Pittman: NOBODY EVER SAID DANCIN' WAS EASY, SON! YOU GONNA GIVE UP!? YOU GONNA GIVE UP!?

Recruit: SIR NO SIR!

Honky Tonk Man moves closer and laughs.

Honky: That's right, baby! I like this kid! He's got heart!

The camera cuts away to a third recruit, this one performing all manner of... disco dancing? Indeed, the third recruit, a man with big hair and a goofy grin on his face, is about two decades too late to the party, and Pittman is quick to advance.

Pittman: MAGGOT! DID MY EYES DECEIVE ME, OR WAS THAT DISCO DANCIN' JUST NOW!?

Recruit: SIR YES SIR! SIR I AM VERY SORRY SIR!

Pittman: WHAT'S YOUR NAME, BOY!?

Recruit: PRIVATE GLENN GILBERTI, SIR!

Pittman: WELL, PRIVATE GLENN GILBERTI, THAT AIN'T YOUR NAME ANYMORE! WE GONNA CALL YOU THE DISCO INFERNO FROM NOW ON! NOW WIGGLE THOSE HIPS! SHOW ME HOW THE HONKY TONK KID WILL DO IT!

Disco responds, quickly shakin', rattlin', and rollin' like a true successor. Honky Tonk Man stands back and watches, nodding as if he's impressed. He slaps Disco on the shoulder as he walks off.

Honky: Nice job, kid. Now grow those sideburns out.

The camera cuts away one final time to Pittman looking over the troops.

Pittman: It has been a long, hard day, recruits, but we are ready for war! When that guitar starts and the Honky Tonk Man starts shakin', rattlin', and rollin', you recruits'll be right there with him! And one of you is gonna be at his side! One of you is gonna be THE HONKY TONK KID!

Recruits: SIR YES SIR!

One Recruit: --YES SIR!

Pittman and Honky both turn their heads toward the one recruit out of step... and lest my eyes deceive me, the guy looks an awful lot like Brian Armstrong! Pittman and Honky advance on Armstrong, with Honky looking particularly incensed.

Honky: What's the matter with you, boy? Didn't we teach you nothin' 'bout rhythm?

Armstrong: Sir, I'm--

Honky: Don't you start! I ain't through with you yet! You're a disgrace! You got no business bein' outta step like that! In fact--SARGE!

Pittman: SIR YES SIR!

Honky: WE ARE AT CODE RED!

Pittman: SIR UNDERSTOOD SIR!

Pittman grabs Armstrong and wrenches him to the ground, then leans back with a monstrous armbar. Armstrong screams in pain, begging to be let go, as Honky Tonk Man kicks dirt in his face.

Honky: HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH!? HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, KID!

The camera cuts away one last time, with Honky Tonk Man driving off in his Cadillac.

Honky: It's a rough ride sometimes... you just gotta know how to roll with the beat of life.

He turns back to the recruits as he drives off.

Honky: Thank you very much, g'night!

The camera fades away as the pink Cadillac drives west, off into the sunset. Off into the commercial break.

----------

So what came of Honky Tonk Boot Camp? In a word, nothing. Let's hear it from the mouth of Gene Okerlund on the WCW Hotline:

Spoiler: Click here to view

"As I stated on this week's edition of WCW Saturday Night, WCW is abuzz about the departure of The Honky Tonk Man from World Championship Wrestling. Honky, who was working under a verbal contract, had refused to sign a written contract for the amount offered by WCW Vice President Eric Bischoff, attempting to hold Bischoff up for more money. Mr. Bischoff, ever the professional, agreed to meet with Honky this past Wednesday at the CNN Center, but Honky Tonk Man apparently no-showed. I have learned that Honky is apparently now under contract with the newly formed Men of Steel Combat, owned and booked by former WCW President Bill Watts! What makes this move even more disgusting is that Honky was slated to begin an angle in which he took two young and promising Power Plant workers, Glenn Gilberti and Craig Pittman, under his wings. Well, to Wayne Ferris, the Honky Tonk Man, let me just say that WCW will continue with or without you, and the two young men you slighted with your move will continue to impress WCW Power Plant officials in your absence!"

Cheesy WCW video production, a baffling retcon of the angle, AND Disco Inferno? Does it get more Wrestlecrap than that?

[JStarr]

All right, since very few will admit to writing WrestleCrap, we'll open it up a bit. Throw in what you consider to be the funniest thing you've ever written on this board. Again, multiple entries are permitted, but I will go ahead and cap the thing at three.

Sousa and Ray, if you have another segment you'd like to throw in here for the new rules, by all means feel free. Same deadline, next Monday. Be and HttK will remain as judges, so they are forbidden to enter. Which is just as well, because neither one of them writes anything even remotely humorous.

Edited October 6, 2008 by Sinistarr

[NobBe Nobbs]

Hey.

Hey.

Hey.

Hay.

It's what's for dinner.

[GA!]

Taken from WCW 2000; 23rd November 2000 edition of Thunder.

5 - IN THE STUDIO WITH THREE COUNT

As introduced by Mike Tenay (to the orgasmic reactions of Mark Madden), WCW Thunder cuts to a special promotional video. On the title screen, it reads: “In The Studio With Three Count” Following that is title sequence, consisting quick images of:

• The beautiful side of Los Angeles…

• Three Count’s ”Sugar” Shane Helms, Shannon Moore and Evan Karagias performing in the studio.

• Three Count partying.

• And finally: images of Three Count at a clearly constructed publicity stunt protest with people/actors’s signs saying juxtaposing messages. EG: “Down with pollution” and “Say no to animal cruelty”…

It cuts to an interview area in a studio. Shane, Evan, Shannon and “Wildcat” Mr. Harris sit on deck chairs in front of a black background. They’re talking to an interviewer off camera who we never seen.

Evan Karagias: It’s been the strongest, most emotional and the most creative time in our short careers.

Shane Helms: We thought we’d reached our creative potential being multi-platinum selling artists… But as it turns out, it wasn’t true.

The video goes to an edited in clip of “Life in the studio” if you will. Evan is sat at a stool next to Chris Harris. Harris has a notepad in his hands.

Chris Harris: You just let it all out now. It’s lyrics from the heart that sells us records and makes you mega rich.

Evan Karagias: [Near crying] Well… I just don’t think it’s fair! We’ve done nothing to deserve boos from crowds or bad reviews of our albums… We have perfect bodies, and have girls queuing up to be with us and we all own two mansions each all thanks to our heavily-hyped original brand of pop music… What else do we have to do?

*Chris notes something down on his notepad. He then puts a hand on Evan’s shoulder as Karagias puts leans his hand against his head in disbelief.*

Chris Harris: I’m feelin’ for ya', man!

Back to the interview…

Evan Karagias: I think we’ve got our producer “Wildcat” Chris Harris to thank for reaching our true potential. Being such an experienced producer, we’ve been able to diversify ourselves much, much more than what we were with our current material.

Shannon Moore: He helped us shape more and more of our own personal emotions into the music. Not to mention challenging the issues and problems in today’s society. Like for example: one of our songs is about being rejected by a girl who you really wanted to go to the Prom with.

Evan Karagias: The songwriters have been fantastic with that in my opinion.

Another clip… In the recording booth, Shane Helms is singing (badly) to a generic pop beat.

Shane Helms: [singing] Girl… I want to see the real side of you… Girl… I want to know exactly who you are… Girl… I want to see the real side of you… Girl… The girl from afar!

The interview goes to a close-up of Chris Harris as he speaks.

Chris Harris: Well I heard these Three Count boys weren’t feelin’ so hot about their music so I helped ‘em out. They’re beyond talented let me tell ya'. Their natural gifts for the business has meant stuff like usin’ more instruments. Evan learnt how to play the guitar betta than Slash in just cotton-pickin’ week! Hell they’re so great; Vince - the dance choreographer - has been able to give ‘em much more complex but visually great moves.

In the producer’s booth, Shannon Moore is playing a bass guitar. Keeping his finger on the same string in the same position – he strums the same note slowly over and over again for several seconds. When it stops - “Wildcat” Chris Harris, along with everyone else erupt in applause towards Shannon.

Chris Harris: Yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout! That right there boys is what I like'ta call music!

Shane Helms: I feel great about our stuff now.

Chris Harris: Good! Glad I ‘elp you boys!

Evan Karagias: All of us feel better and its thanks to you Wildcat. Recording a new album these past six days has been an amazing experience. Now we’re ready to show our adoring fans exactly how we’ve developed. That’s why Commissioner Mike Sanders has granted us a slot on the Mayhem card where we will perform our new song!

Shannon Moore: So buy the pay per view and check us rock the world once again!

Shane, Evan and Shannon make individual poses, trying to look cool but looking quite dorky.

The video fades into and ends with a quick musical montage, basically putting together footage from this segment wrap things up. At the end – the title card says: “THREE COUNT – PERFORMING THIS SUNDAY AT MAYHEM!”

Three Count in the studio – 63% Rating

[stokeriño]

Like hell is this the 'funniest' thing, since it's effectively just a DX-lite segment, but I just dropped into this thread ten minutes before I intend to go to bed, so like hell am I actually making any thorough searches. Actually, if I could I would just say "Al Snow and Coach on HEAT commentary. Period." but I guess that wouldn't work. So here's the most recent funny segment I wrote for any kind of diary...most recent being last Februay, of course.

RAW 2004: FBOW

But now…the moment the nation – nay, the world – had been waiting for…

Yes, the return of RNN – the channel that had kept us updated with Randy Orton’s return from a shoulder injury during 2002/2003. Now, however, the fully-fit Intercontinental champion had a different sort of message. This was to be an official statement to the man who would be his challenger at Fully Loaded, Matt Hardy.

RNN: Special Edition (The Trouble with Pirates)

The setup was quite standard: a podium set in front of blue drapes. Randy stood behind it, dressed smartly in a suit (quite a rarity, despite being part of Evolution), clasping the side edges of the stand with his hands. After the opening music died away, he addressed the camera.

ORTON: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the return of RNN and to this very special edition of RNN. When it first debuted in 2002, the Randy News Network was a pioneer in…”

To demonstrate that this was in fact taped rather than live, we briefly cut to the Evolution VIP suite, where Orton, Hunter, Flair and Batista were all watching the broadcast on their television set. Randy was busy explaining to Batista how he’d arranged the set himself, while Triple H was remarking to Flair, “You know, Shawn and I did something quite like this once…”

ORTON: “…And so, in view of my title defence at Fully Loaded, tonight I – your Intercontinental champion – would like to address one Matt Hardy.”

A still image of Matt Hardy’s face appeared on screen beside Orton.

ORTON: “Matthew Moore Hardy did not grow up in a wrestling family. Indeed, he and his brother Jeff only took up the business as a means to support their lay-about, alcoholic father. This brings us neatly to the first of the many reasons why Matt Hardy is inferior to me.”

Reaching down behind the podium, he brought out a very, VERY big stack of paper and placed it with a loud ‘thud’ in front of him. Wiping his brow from the effort of lifting it, he picked up the top page.

ORTON: “As a first generation wrestler, Matt Hardy has neither the experience nor the respect necessary to hold a championship as prestigious as the Intercontinental title. I, meanwhile, am a third generation superstar. This business is in my blood.

“Second: Matt Hardy is a Tag Team wrestler. It is a well known fact that Tag Team wrestlers are an inferior form of life, slightly below retarded orang-utans on the evolutionary scale.

“Third: Matt Hardy has a fondness for doing this.”

He held up Matt’s ‘V1’ signal with his left hand.

ORTON: “Scientists have spent years attempting to translate this primitive method of communication. While it may be almost too simple for educated minds to grasp, it is believed that it symbolises the letter ‘V’ and the number ‘1’, as in ‘Version One’. With this gesture, Matt Hardy is declaring himself to be the flawed original; an untested prototype of a wrestler, whose crippling deficiencies leave him vulnerable to more innately talented individuals…like me.

“Additionally, the initials ‘V1’ also refers to a type of flying bomb designed and used by the Nazis during the Second World War. In this way, Matt Hardy is clearly demonstrating his anti-Semitic, fascist tendencies.”

He turned the first piece of paper over. Apparently they were doubled-sided.

ORTON: “Fourth: Matt Hardy employs a finishing manoeuvre he calls the ‘Twist of Fate’. Although he may attempt to disguise it, this is clearly a shabby knock-off of my own patented finisher, the RKO.

“Fifth: If we examine Matt Hardy’s elementary school grades in detail…”

BZZZZZZSSSSSSHHHHHHT!!

That was the sound of static cutting out the video feed. Back in the Evolution suite, Orton jumped to his feet – gawping at the screen in outrage.

ORTON: “What the hell?!”

All of a sudden, the picture returned. Or rather, ‘a’ picture returned…

EDGE: “We interrupt this stomach-wrenching ego trip to bring you THE REAL STORY: ON THE EDGE!”

Some faux ‘newsroom’ music played in the background as the camera zoomed out to reveal Edge sitting it what did indeed look like a newsroom. He himself was dressed in typical newsreader garb – large glasses, bad wig and all – and was furiously shuffling a bunch of papers in front of him, as overzealous newsreaders are likely to do.

Back in the Evolution suite, Randy hadn’t a clue what was going on.

EDGE: “Tonight on The Real Story: On The Edge – I, Edge, bring you a special interview with the man who will win the Intercontinental title at Fully Loaded…Matt Hardy. The name of tonight’s show, therefore, is ‘Edge: On Matt Hardy’.”

The camera showed a picture of Matt Hardy sitting in a chair next to Edge. He waved to the invisible audience as canned applause echoed around him. A graphic appeared underneath him, which said “Matt Hardy: Future Intercontinental Champion”.

Edge turned to his guest.

EDGE: “Welcome, Matt Hardy, to The Real Story: On The Edge, Edge: On Matt Hardy.”

MATT: “Thank you, Edge.”

EDGE: “I hope my interviewing style is not making you feel on edge.”

MATT: “Not at all.”

EDGE: “Or on Matt Hardy, come to that.”

MATT: “Matt Hardy is always ‘on’.”

EDGE: “True enough. Okay: Tomorrow night you will of course beat Randy Orton to become the new Intercontinental champion. But moments ago we all witnessed the broadcast of a most disturbing video. So disturbing, in fact, that we had to cut it short. After seeing what little you have, how many more seconds do you think it would take before you started vomiting profusely and copiously?”

MATT: “That’s a tough call, Edge, and I’m going to optimistically venture a guess of five. Randy’s a pretty ugly guy at the best of times, but damn, having his face fill the screen like that is just mind-blowing. And not in the good Las Vegas way.”

EDGE: “You have been known to produce ‘Mattitude Public Service Announcements’. Would you call the RNN format a pathetic rip-off, or merely a shameless derivation?”

MATT: “Oh, rip-off definitely. We’re talking ‘Renegade’ levels of thievery here.”

EDGE: “Who did he rip off?”

MATT: “Ultimate Warrior? Big guy, face paint, made no sense?”

EDGE: “Oh, you mean Road Warrior Animal?”

MATT: “…No.”

EDGE: “Hm. Well anyway, at this point I’d like to show another short clip of the video for reference. Here’s your blindfold.”

MATT: “Thanks.”

Edge then turned to face the camera and spoke with total seriousness.

EDGE: “Viewers should be advised that the following footage contains scene of an extremely disturbing nature, and those suffering from heart conditions or of a frail disposition should look away now.”

Back to the video: in a scene clearly taken from many minutes (if not hours) further in, Randy had removed all of his clothing except for his underwear and was flexing his arms in front of the podium. Several sheets of paper (which had presumably already been run through) lay strewn around him.

ORTON: “WHAT ABOUT THIS? DOES MATT HARDY HAVE BICEPS LIKE THESE? OR HOW ABOUT THESE GORGEOUS ABS, HUH? DOES HE HAVE THOSE? HERE, LET ME SHOW YOU MY…”

Edge cut the feed.

EDGE: “…Oh God.”

MATT: “Is it safe to take the blindfold off yet?”

EDGE: “Yes…but you’re going to have to take control of the show for a bit. I need to go find a bucket.”

Holding his hand over his mouth, he dashed off screen.

Matt removed his blindfold and shifted over into what had been Edge’s chair. He picked up the papers in front of him, shuffled a few times, and directed his eye to the camera.

MATT: “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please welcome at this time…THE NATURE BOY, RIC FLAIR!”

EDGE: “WOOOOOO!”

Back came Edge onto the stage, having quickly put on a colourful ‘Nature Boy’ robe, as well as having switched his previous wig for a large blonde one. Strutting back and forth, he near enough spasmed before slumping into a chair.

MATT: “Ric Flair, it is truly an honour.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Quite. Now Ric, you’ve won 16 World titles and have a career spanning decades. But at Fully Loaded you face your biggest challenge to date, when you go one-on-one with Edge. Tell me Ric, are you as excited as everyone else is?”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Sounds like a yes to me. Now I’m sure you have much to talk about from your long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long career, but since we’re short on time…I’ll stick to the essentials. Okay: Given that your opponent, Edge, is significantly younger, fitter and more talented than you are, what would you say were your chances of actually beating him?”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Ric, that’s not an answer.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “So, what? You’re saying your chances are one Woo in…Woo?”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Well, I guess that clears that up.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Insightful as always. Ric Flair, thank you.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Seriously now, get out.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “I’m warning you.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “I’ll put the Orton tape on again.”

EDGE: “WOOO.”

MATT: “Right, you asked for it!”

*click*

ORTON: “…AND IS MATT HARDY ATHLETIC ENOUGH TO DO TWO HUNDRED PELVIC THRUSTS IN A ROW? IS HE, HELL. ONLY A SUPERSTAR WITH MY RIPPED PHYSIQUE CAN PULL SOMETHING LIKE THAT OFF. JUST WATCH! ONE…! TWO…! THREE…”

*SMASH*

That was the sound of Edge lobbing a television monitor at a VCR.

EDGE: “Make it stop! For the Love of God, make it stop!”

He picked up the monitor and threw it at the VCR again. The device broke into several dozen pieces.

Matt walked over, and picked up the decimated remains of the video tape that had been inside.

MATT: “And now, the world is a safer place.”

EDGE: “You wrap this thing up, I’m out of here.”

MATT: “Where are you going?”

EDGE: “Rehab.”

MATT: “Oh…”

He turned to the camera.

MATT: “Well Randy, I guess you’ve learnt a valuable lesson. Maybe if you weren’t such a jackass, the guys in the production truck wouldn’t be so willing to give your tape away to guys like us. As for tomorrow night at Fully Loaded, you’ll also learn a lesson in humility…as I take your Intercontinental title away from you. And Ric! Edge can’t wait to see you, either. So this is Matt Hardy – Version 1.0 – signing off for RNN. Adios.”

……

And so, the feed went dead.

In the Evolution suite, both Orton and Flair sat there with mouths agape.

Batista attempted to break the awkward silence.

BATISTA: “Well, uh, put it this way: if they said Ric’s chances were ‘one woo in woo’…that’s got to mean 100%, right?”

Slowly, they turned and looked at him.

BATISTA: “Because, you know, by definition…uh…”

The raised voices that followed could be heard from right across the arena.

I like to think that my diaries are slightly funny all of the time, rather than really funny some of the time.

[NobBe Nobbs]

Thread over.

[davidb1701]

I'll put up two entries right now. I'm still thinking about the third. These two are both from Sleaze CW.

The first went up on ECW.com on September 15, 2008 during the feud between Mike the Miz & John Morrison and Paul London & Brian Kendrick:

<voiceover by Howard Finkel> - In a world full of winners and losers, two men have risen above to bring you - the Dork Sheet!

We saw Paul London (with his hair teased up into a faux-hawk and pigtails) seated in a director's chair beside Brian Kendrick (wearing sunglasses). "Hi," Kendrick said. "I'm Bon Bore-ison, and if I weren't wearing these sunglasses, I would have won a gold medal at the Olympics."

"So why are you wearing those?" London asked.

Kendrick sighed. "I went blind from touching myself."

"Ah." London paused a moment. "And I'm your D*ck Magnet - the Biz!" London smiled. "This week, we'll be talking with ECW announcer Mike Adamle. Come on in, Mike."

Adamle entered and froze before pointing at London. "You're not Miz the Mike! I was told that Miz the Mike would be here!"

"No," Kendrick said, "You were told that pizza rolls and old American Gladiators tapes would be here. And here they are."

Adamle smiled as he accepted the plate of pizza rolls and a video tape with Laser on the cover. "Thank you!" Adamle said. "My evening plans are now complete!"

"So, what do you have planned for your big date?" the Biz asked.

Adamle's smile grew wider. "I have a truly wonderful evening in store for Miz the Mike," he said. "I have planned a dinner at a five-star restaurant -"

"White Castle?" Bore-ison asked.

"Yes!" Adamle said. "Then we will go to the parking lot where it will be raining for dancing to romantic music."

"Wait a minute," Biz said. "How do you know it'll be raining?"

"If it isn't, I plan on paying some teenagers five dollars to spray us with a garden hose," Adamle explained.

"Ah," Biz replied. "Good thinking."

"There are no garden hoses at the Castle of Bizdom," Bore-ison said. "That's why the lawn is dead."

"It sounds like you have a magical evening planned," the Biz said. "But before you go, do you know who our favorite wrestler is?"

Adamle's face grew panicked before he screwed his eyes closed. "Mr. Fuji?" he asked.

Biz and Bore-ison laughed. "No," they said, "Adorable Adrian Adonis!" They kissed him on his cheeks before shoving him out of the picture.

"In life," Bore-ison said, "there are winners-" A picture of London and Kendrick holding the tag team titles flashed onto the screen. "And losers." Shots of the Miz and John Morrison with the word Loser stamped on them appeared.

"We are the ECW tag team champions," the Biz finished. "Be jealous."

_____________________________________________________________

The second is from October 21 and is the infamous date between the Miz and Mike Adamle:

---Suddenly the video screen lit up with a title card that read "Part One, the Pickup."

Miz was pacing on the sidewalk. He was dressed normally - in jeans, a Chick Magnet t-shirt, and a hat. A limo pulled up and the driver opened the door. Miz peeked inside and smiled.

"No Adamle and there's a wet bar," he judged. "Things are looking up." Miz climbed inside, the driver closed the door, and the car drove away as we went to commercial.

---The video lit up again with the title "Part 2 - Dinner."

Miz walked into a restaurant and discovered Adamle waiting for him. Adamle was wearing a blue suit that looked like, well, probably was this one:

"Miz the Mike!" Adamle said with a wide smile on his face. "It's so wonderful to see you!"

"Whatever," Miz said as he plopped down in his chair. "Let's just get this over with."

Adamle smiled wider as he showed Miz the menu. "I hear the oysters are wonderful here," he said with a wink.

Miz handed his menu to the waiter. "Bring me booze. I don't care what kind. Just keep it coming." He glanced at Adamle and shivered as we went to commercial.

---The screen lit up with "Part Three, After Dinner."

Miz was staggering out of the restaurant with a bottle in his hand, obviously drunk. Behind him, Adamle was still apologizing to the manager who was throwing them out.

Adamle came back up to Miz as the driver opened the car door. "I wish you wouldn't drink so much," he said.

"Don't judge me!" Miz slurred as he climbed into the car.

Adamle shook his head as he climbed in as well.

The car had barely started rolling before we heard someone vomiting and Adamle shrieked, "my new suit!" Adamle sighed again. "You've got that nastyness all over you. Let's get that shirt off to try and clean you up."

"Clean this up!" came the reply as the car screeched to a halt. Moments later, a naked (and thankfully blurred) Miz climbed out of the sunroof and began running down the street.

Adamle peeked his head out the sunroof. "Call me!" he called as we went to the final commercial.

[Hajjhowe]

0 - Dark Match: Los Luchas Loco vs. Special K. This was a hot opener. Both of these teams were looking to impress management as they went all out here. Special K got the early advantage by isolating El Generico. The heat segment was well done and Generico bumped his ass off. Eventually he got the hot tag and Delirious started to clean house. He even had Johnny Kashmere set up for some move, but someone came out to ringside that scared the hell out of Delirious. It was… Delirious? A man wearing almost identical gear yelled (In coherent English) at Delirious who backed up looking terrified. Johnny Kashmere took advantage grabbing his foe and nailing the Cradle Breaker! The cover got the three as Special K celebrated and Generico stared at the ‘other’ Delirious who simply walked away. Very odd.

63% - 51% - 89%

“Delirious” debuted his new gimmick (Mysterious), it got a positive response.

0 – Free Per View: #1 Contender’s Match For Tag Team titles - The Haas Brothers vs. Scorpio & Ruckus vs. Special K vs. Los Luchas Loco. Clinic!~ The Haas Brother’s get a pretty big reaction, although it’s mostly heel heat due to their association with Memphis. This was an incredible display of tag team wrestling as all four teams showed how important the ECW tag team titles are. Some of the high spots included El Generico hitting a springboard double DDT to the outside on Charlie & Russ Haas, Ruckus nailing a no hands plancha onto Eddie Kingston and both Kingston later nailing a poerbomb/superplex on Delirious & 2 Cold Scorpio. The end came when Kingston missed a big lariat and Delirious hooked him into the Cobra Clutch, but the fake Delirious showed up, distracting the real one long enough for Kingston to hit the Royal Flush and secure the big victory for his team! Now this is what ECW needs more of, insane tag team matches with incredibly gifted athletes.

71% - 54% - 88%

2 – Delirious w/ El Generico vs. Arch Kincaid. This was an entertaining back and forth bout. Delirious was his usual crazy self, but seemed to be looking around worried the whole match. Joey Styles said it was probably fear of his doppelganger who has been stalking him for weeks now. The distractions give Kincaid a lot of openings that the former Carolina’s champion (He lost the show on Fusion) takes advantage of. The end comes when Kincaid slips up and Delirious starts to signal for something, but his partner is attacked outside the ring but the fake Delirious! The real Delirious yells at him, which gives Kincaid the opportunity to attack from behind and nail his Kincussion for the three! The fake delirious points to the ring and slowly backs away, having finally assaulted an actual wrestler. Good story advancement, but I was hoping for a better in ring performance.

56% - 51% - 76%

4 – After the commercial we catch this fake backstage. Paul Heyman asks him who h is and why he keeps attacking Delirious. The man says that Delirious is the real fake and that he WILL get his rightful spot back, that’s a promise. The man seemed to have a British accent, which just made things all the more confusing.

56%

‘Delirious’ gained overness from this segment.

6 – ‘Delirious’ vs. El Generico w/ Delirious. Confused? I sure am. This is actually a very entertaining and even fight. The fake Delirious continually yells at the real one at ringside but does almost every move in the same way as the real Delirious. Generico apparently knows her partner well though as he starts to get an advantage over his tag partner’s doppelganger. He eventually gets him in the corner for his top rope brainbuster but ‘Delirious’ rakes the eyes and slams him down before getting him into a pinning predicament, pitting his feet on the ropes for a tainted three! The real Delirious than enters the ring, staring at his impostor who tells him he knows what he did to him before leaving to booing. Where the hell is this storyline going?

65/46/85

5 – ECW Television Title Match: ‘Sensational’ Matt Sydal © vs. Delirious. Sydal is still without his girlfriend and Delirious is alone. Both men shake hands before engaging in an expectedly good contest. Delirious hangs with Sydal for a bit but Matt is determined and eventually starts to build momentum. This is helped when the fake Delirious arrives again, distracting the real one and allowing Sydal to nail a Here we Go Driver for the three. After the win Sydal attacks the fake Delirious before he can enter the ring and than raises the real one’s hand to end the show.

65/46/85

- Delirious w/ El Generico vs. ‘Delirious’.

Well, this didn’t disappoint. The fake Delirious wears the exact same attire as the real one as both men cannot get an advantage over the other. In addition, each tries to grab the other’s mask but Is equally matched by their opponents. Eventually we learn that evil works better, as our fake Delirious (I think) uses an eye rake to build some momentum. Eventually it falls apart though and Delirious gets his chance, ripping off the mask to reveal… another mask! Confused, he’s quickly rolled up by his doppleganger and drops the match to booing. The fake Delirious still shouts about knowing the truth at Delirious, who just looks on confused in the ring.

60/47/88

1 – Bad Breed vs. Lo Luchas Locos.

This was a very entertaining opener, not that I would expect less from Los Luchas Locos. They fly/bounce great here as the Bad Breed seem to have not lost a step since reforming. They bully their smaller foe’s, but this is very much an even contest until the end. Out steps, on cue, the fake Delirious. This is enough to send the real one into a fit and to leave the ring. El Generico is left high & dry, eating the Skull Crusher for three. Delirious paces in fear as his crafty doubles has a microphone.

67/46/89

2 – We finally get some explanation here as the faux Delirious says that the one ECW fans know is a fake. He stoles his life, and in fact his real name is Idelirious. He tells us that the man scrambling around ringside isn’t even from our universe. Huh? He tells us that Delirious is from a dystopian, alternate earth where Titan Wrestling has conquered the wrestling world and that nobody there could understand a word he was saying, much like Delirious here. Wait, who booked this? Anyways, he tells us he will send Delirious back to where he came from and claim his rightful place as the Idelirious of this universe. Right…

59

Idelirious gained overness from this segment.

8 – Special K vs. Los Luchas Loco

It’s the expected greatness here as both teams go all out and really take full advantage of the heavy air time they have. El Generico is isolated and plays face in peril as the heels work him over. Why ECW doesn’t push Delirious & Generico in the tag division is beyond me. Eventually Generico counters a suplex into a DDT and Delirious is a lizardman possessed! He hits deep arm drags and spinning heel kicks like crazy, sending both members of Special K wheeling around before he hooks up Kashmere in a Cobra Clutch. Before he can go further though, his hated foe (Apparently from this dimension) Idelirious arrives, hopping onto the ring apron. Delirious releases his opponent and swings, but ID slips off. That’s all Kashmere needs to sneak up and hit a big Cradle Breaker for the three. Fans were pretty hot, but this is worth it for the wrestling alone.

71/52/90

9 – Idelirious grabs a microphone and paces around ringside. He once again challenges the ‘fake’ Delirious. Delirious himself rambles incoherently and screams random words. Idelirious says he ‘assumes that’s a yes’ and we have another match for ONS.

64

Delirious gained overness from this segment. Idelirious gained overness from this segment.

5 – We come back from commercial to see El Generico, bandaged up, backstage. In walks Delirious who mutters incoherently. Generico seems upset and yells at him angrily in (fake) Spanish. Delirious seems to be trying to explain himself but Generico stand up, shakes his head, and leaves. DISSENTION!!?!?

56

Delirious gained overness from this segment. El Generico gained overness from this segment.

1 – Idelirious vs. Kirby Mack

Idelirious gets some pretty good heat here, playing it up as he toys with his opponent Mack. The youngster manages to get some offence in, but Idelirious seems to be well in control as he sets him up in a Cobra Clutch. He becomes distracted when Delirious runs out, stopping just before entering the ring as Idelirious releases his foe getting ready for a fight. He yells at him and grabs Mack, but is suddenly yanked into a tight small package for the three! The fans cheer as Delirious now enters the ring, chasing an angry Delirious away as Kirby Mack celebrates his huge debut upset.

58/38/78

Kirby Mack debuted his new gimmick (Underdog), it got a positive response. Kirby Mack gained overness from this match.

2 – After a break we go backstage, where a furious Idelirious says he’s had enough. At Heatwave he wants his fake one on one in a loser leaves the universe ladder match! The winner gets to be this worlds Delirious, while the loser has to go back to that hellish apocalypse. Right…

58

Delirious gained overness from this segment.

This is just what I got finished with. But seriously, guy from another dimension in a feud that literally spanned like 4 or 5 months in game time?

[IDOL]

Taken from WCW 2000. GA. Idol. Post Halloween Havoc.

Entry One: Just before the clash for the WCW World Tag Team titles between Shawn Stasiak and Big Vito and the Champions Mark Jindrak and Sean O'Haire, Italian Stereotypes and God Father references run rampant on Nitro.

WCW NITRO - MONDAY DECEMBER 11TH, 2000

2 - SO YEAH... YOU REMEMBER THAT SCENE FROM THE GODFATHER WHERE...

The camera catches up inside of the Commissioner's office where the Natural Born Thrillers are shown lounging around as usual. The WCW Tag Team Champions, Mark Jindrak and Sean O' Haire sit on the couch as former Hardcore Champion Reno sits all by himself in the corner of the room. Mike Sanders is on the phone as the audio starts to be heard.

Mike Sanders: I gotta tell ya Coach, the Thrillers... they're missin' ya man... how's our boy Chucky P. doin' anyway... Ah good to hear, so he'll be back kickin' ass and takin names in no time...

*There is a knock on the door and both Jindrak and O' Haire dart for it. A few elbows to each other, and some jockeying for position later and the door is opened revealing a delivery man.*

Delivery Guy: You boys'a order some'a pizza?

Sean O' Haire: You're damn right, and you were supposed to be here an hour ago!

Delivery Guy: Hey'a, what can I say pizon... heavy traffic, you know what I'm sayin'? 'Dat'll be Thirteen ninety eight.

*Jindrak whips out his wallet and hands the man some money*

Delivery Guy: There's 14 bucks here, what'a no tip?

Mark Jindrak: Can you believe this idiot Sean? He shows up an hour after we order and wants a tip?

Sean O' Haire: You want a tip, huh? How's this!? Get the hell out of here before I rip your head off!! How's that for a tip!?

Mike Sanders: [interrupting] Hey! You monkey's wanna keep it down!? I'm on the phone with Coach Nash!

*The Tag Champs slammed the door shut as the delivery man quickly fled for his better being, and sat the pizza down. O' Haire opens the box and is taken back*...

Sean O' Haire: What the?...

*Inside the box, lying on the top of the pizza is a poloroid picture of a severed Horse's head; it's a scene straight out of the Godfather! O' Haire realizes that there could only be one (okay two) culprits behind this*

Sean O' Haire: [pissed] They wanna send a message huh!? Well how about we knock some sense into 'em! C'mon Mark!

Mark Jindrak: Aww... right now? C'mon man, I'm hungry!

*O' Haire storms out of the locker room dragging Jindrak with them, the door slams catching Sanders attention once again*...

Mike Sanders: Ugh.. hold on a sec Kev, [to Reno] Where the hell did those idiots go?

Reno just sits in the chair in almost a trance, in his own world as Nitro goes to a commercial break with the Commissioner confused, and the Tag Team Champions hot on the trail of Big Vito and Shawn Stasiak.

Vito and Stasiak taunt the Thrillers - 74% Rating

6 - PREVIOUSLY ON MONDAY NITRO...

With the conclusion of David Flair's rather creepy message, Nitro heads backstage where WCW World Tag Team Champions Sean O' Haire and Mark Jindrak are walking backstage, and looking none too happy.

Sean O' Haire: C'mon boys, where ya hiding at?

*Doing their best to look menacing, the duo stumbles across a postman with a mailbag slung over his shoulder. In his hand is a package.*

Postal Worker: You two wouldn't happen to be Sean O' Haire and Mark Jindrak, would ya'?

Mark Jindrak: [Looking a bit puzzled] Ye - yeah, that's us, why?

Postal Worker: Well I have a package for you boys here, and it ain't got no return address.

Sean O' Haire: [Annoyed] Gimme that!

*O' Haire takes the package and tears it open. Once the wrapping is off, a plush stuffed fish is pulled from a box, with the tag reading "the Sleeping Fish."*

Sean O' Haire: Sleeping Fish?

*BAM!!! from behind, and virtually out of nowhere Big Vito and Shawn Stasiak attack the Tag Team Champions landing punch after punch to their backs. The attack catches the Champions off guard, and soon enough they find themselves lying face down on the concrete. Standing over top of them, Stasiak and Vito look quite proud at their handy work.*

Big Vito: I told ya' boys not ta' messa' wit' us!

Shawn Stasiak: Heh.. Let's get outta here.

*With that, Stasiak and Vito march off, while Tag Team Champions start to collect themselves.*

Vito and Stasiak get one up on the Champions - 63% Rating

Entry Two: In the search to find out who the father of Stacy Keibler's baby is, scorned ex boyfriend David Flair took things too far, and Ric Flair suspended his son for the safety of not only David but everyone else. But without WCW to fill David's time, he had more to himself. Needless to say things got out of hand...

WCW THUNDER - THURSDAY DECEMBER 7th, 2000

6 - UNWANTED VIDEO DOCUMENTATION

Before the commercial break footage airs that is seemingly shot from a home video cam corder, it looks like its being shot in shrubbery or bushes and there is alot of rustling in the background, after a few moments this stops, and the green bushes part bringing to lite the view of the front of a house where a car pulls up. A voice can be heard on the tape;

"No one wants me to know damn it, no one! But I will find out if it's the last thing I do! Who was it Stacy, who was it you *whore!*"

*The car door opens and a visibly pregnant Stacy Keibler steps out, dressed casually in a pink jogging suit. She has her hands full of a few bags of groceries, the video is being shot outside of her house! The video blurrs as the camera is quickly spun around, and David Flair's face is shown, with the most crazed of expressions.*

David Flair: They can suspend me from WCW, but no one! NO ONE Can keep me from the truth!

As David fumes, the scene fades to black with only these words before the break;

"TO BE CONTINUED"

Video from David Flair - 71% Rating

David Flair gained 1 point of overness

WCW NITRO - MONDAY DECEMBER 11TH, 2000

5 - DAVID FLAIR: VIDEO VOYEUR

Back on the air Nitro plays what looks to be home video footage, as suggested by the rustling sound on the viewers screens. Finally the footage comes into focus and the viewers see what looks to be a door opening in a bedroom. It's only open a crack, but you can see a bed, and another door opened across the room. A shower sounds like it is running. After a few moments, a blonde haired woman walks across the view in a pink robe. It's the visibly pregnant Stacy Keibler

*The door from which the scene is viewed from opens a bit more, but it makes a sharp creaking noise. Hearing this, Stacy turns her head, but the door is brought just about shut. A few moments of darkness ensue, until the door is opened once more to see Stacy walk into the bathroom and close the door. Amidst heavy breathing, the camera spins around and shows David Flair's maniacal face.

David Flair: Haha hahaha! Haha hahaha! Haha haha ha!

"TO BE CONTINUED"

More of David Flair's Video Footage - 61% Rating

WCW THUNDER - THURSDAY DECEMBER 14TH, 2000

7 - BEDROOMS AND FLASHING LIGHTS

Before commercial we are taken once again to the video footage we have seen for the past few weeks, this one picking up right where the last one left off.

*The closet door of the bedroom opens and as can be told by the "bouncing" up and down of the camera, David Flair removes himself from the closet and is walking around the bedroom with the belief that Stacy is in the bathroom with the door closed, most likely taking a shower.*

*Flair begins opening the drawers of her night stands, looking through her things and searching for the slightest clue of an affair. Seeing nothing of interest, he becomes annoyed and throws the things around before moving onto the purse on her bed. Quickly he unzips the bag and empties her belongings onto the bed. That's when the bathroom door opens.*

Stacy Keibler: Duh-David!? What are you doing!?!?

*Quickly the pregant woman, covered only by a white towel tied at the top rushes over and does her best to grab her belongings, but David as could be told over the past few weeks is a little over the edge, and pushes Stacy slightly away. He holds her against the wall and begins shouting.*

David Flair: WHAT AM I DOING!? What am I doing Stacy!? I'm LOOKING FOR ANSWERS, I'M LOOKING FOR THE TRUTH! Why the hell won't you tell me, huh!? WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME who the father is!?

Stacy Keibler: Be-because I love you David.

David Flair: YOU LOVE ME!?? What a joke.

*David steps back, for a second and in the background you can hear the front door of the house being shut. Faint voces can be slightly heard as well.*

David Flair: Is that him!? IS HE HERE!?

*Here he wasn't, instead two police officers rush into the room and quickly subdue David to the floor before handcuffing him and reading him his rights. The camera, now lying on the floor picks all of this up. It is appareant that Stacy must have dialed 911 in suspicions that someone was in her house. Stacy who is in tears neals down beside Flair who is struggling to resist the police.*

Stacy Keibler: David, baby you need help...

David Flair: I DON'T NEED HELP! I NEED ANSWERS! I NEED THE TRUTH! I NEED THE TRUTH!

With the police lifting David to his feet and taking him into custody, the footage ends and Thunder goes to commercial.

Stacy calls 911 - 66% Rating

Edited October 8, 2008 by HailtotheIdol

[NobBe Nobbs]

I give Hajj points for writing the words "loser leaves the universe ladder match". Stalker Flair, on the other hand, wasn't funny or Wrestlecrap, it was bloody terrifying

[stokeriño]

Eh, throw in another one, since I've actually been scanning back through the diary now. Same diary...same feud...about one month earlier:

RAW 2004: FBOW

MPSA: ‘The Intercontinental Championship and You’

We returned from the commercial break to…a blank screen. Then, the familiar numeric countdown of a grainy black and white film reel flickered cumbersomely into existence:

5…

4…

3…

2…

BLIP

The film faded into focus and was accompanied by a rousing orchestral symphony, which had probably been recorded sometime in the 1940s. In the centre of the light grey screen was a peculiar emblem which featured an American bald eagle wearing what appeared to be a ‘V1’ t-shirt. The initials ‘MPSA’ also ran along the top of the symbol. White lettering then appeared across the screen while simultaneously being read aloud by the film’s narrator who, strangely enough, sounded very much like a Toronto native trying to put on an old-fashioned ‘official’ American accent…and succeeding, albeit very badly.

THE NARRATOR (EDGE): “Mattitude Public Service Announcements Presents…”

The white text on the screen faded away and was replaced by a much larger title, as the background music reached a crescendo:

NARRATOR: “…THE INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP, AND YOU.”

The music faded away, and we cut to a pleasant countryside scene. Or rather, a pleasant countryside scene constructed out of cardboard and a few pieces of wood in a very tiny studio somewhere. There was a backcloth that was plain aside from a couple of poorly painted clouds in the top left-hand corner. In the foreground there was a cardboard tree, a couple of equally cardboard bushes and, cutely, a cardboard rabbit.

Almost immediately our protagonist walked onscreen. Coming in from the left, he strode across the scene until ‘suddenly’ noticing the camera, at which point he stopped and turned towards it. It would probably be a good time to note that this character was wearing a Randy Orton ‘Legend Killer’ t-shirt, as well as what could probably pass for a Randy Orton mask on his face. The fact that it was blatantly Matt Hardy was neither here nor there.

NARRATOR: “Why, if it isn’t our dear old friend Randy Orton. Hello Randy!”

Randy waved goofily towards the camera.

NARRATOR: “Now Randy, I hear you’re trying to become the new Intercontinental champion. Is that true?”

Randy nodded his head eagerly, and flexed his biceps in a corny, Hulk Hogan-type way. He then started doing a few practice jabs whilst hopping back and forth like a boxer.

NARRATOR: “Whoa! Not so fast there Randy – you’re not ready yet!”

Randy stopped hopping and tilted his head sideways, scratching it in puzzlement.

NARRATOR: “The road to the Intercontinental title is a long and arduous one. How about we start at the beginning?”

Convinced, Randy nodded in eager agreement and strode with a purpose off the right-hand side of the screen. The film then cut abruptly to…the same scene, with the same cardboard tree, cardboard bushes and cardboard rabbit. Randy strode in off the left-hand side, and stood proudly, ready and willing in the centre.

NARRATOR: “Right, are you ready Randy?”

Randy nodded with as much eagerness and goofiness as he had before – mixed together and wrapped up in one decidedly daft gesture.

NARRATOR: “Very well, then we’ll begin. Step One: To compete for the Intercontinental Championship, you must first do a lot of Training.”

The scene jolted noticeably as the film cut and a set of very fake and cartoon-like dumbbells appeared in front of Randy – causing him, after a brief pause, to jump backwards in exaggerated surprise.

NARRATOR: “Strength is an important attribute to attain if you are to contend for the Intercontinental title. Try lifting those weights.”

Randy scoffed with an air of confident bravado, waving his hand dismissively to indicate that this’ll be a breeze. He immediately bent over to pick up the dumbbell…but was surprised to find that it would not budge.

NARRATOR: “Why don’t you try lifting with your legs?”

Randy mimed laughter, in an ‘I knew that’ kind of way. Standing with his feet further apart, he spat (or pretend-spat, due to wearing a mask) on his hands and rubbed them together. He then crouched down and placed both hands firmly on the bar. Once again he tried to lift…and once again the dumbbells would not budge. He tried again, straining with all his might, but completely failing to lift the weights even an inch off the ground. Eventually he collapsed on top of the dumbbells, gasping for air.

NARRATOR: “There-there Randy. Perhaps we should start with something a little lighter…”

The comical, spherical weights on each end of the dumbbells spontaneously halved in size, a transformation complemented with a curious ‘PING’ noise. Dragging himself back upright, Randy resolved himself and tried again. This time he managed to lift the weights up by about two feet…before dropping one end on his foot.

Crying out in silent pain, Randy hopped up and down, holding his sore foot in agony. Eventually he managed to stand back on it, and waved his fist furiously at the dumbbell. He tried pushing them away with the sole of his foot, but they didn’t move. He then kicked at them…which, although mildly successful in nudging the weights, served only to aggravate his previous injury. By the time that had calmed down, he was clearly quite angry. Walking with purpose, he stormed off screen.

NARRATOR: “Maybe just a little bit smaller…”

Randy charged back on screen at full speed. He drew his right foot back and swung it with a gigantic kick towards the dumbbell. At the last second, the weights once again changed and with a ‘ping’ were replaced with a smaller set. This sudden change caused Randy’s kick to miss its target completely, and his momentum sent him flying over the dumbbell and into the cardboard tree…where he crumpled into a heap at its base.

NARRATOR: “Let’s move on.”

Randy slowly hauled himself back to his feet, using the cardboard tree for support. He stumbled back into the centre of the screen as the dumbbell surreptitiously slid off behind a cardboard bush and off screen. Tired and hurt, Randy nonetheless stood undaunted and ready to face his next challenge.

NARRATOR: “Step Two: Now that you’ve trained sufficiently, it is now time for you to meet your opponent.”

A life size cardboard cut-out of Edge holding the Intercontinental title suddenly appeared next to Randy, causing him yet more mild shock.

NARRATOR: “THIS is the current Intercontinental champion…”

Randy made a sneering gesture, and held two fingers up above Edge’s head so as to look like rabbit ears.

NARRATOR: “With all of your training, you should have no problem. Go ahead, see if you can take him.”

Randy looked at the Edge cut-out for a moment…drew back…and pounced! He wrestled with the cut-out, eventually dragging it off screen. Several comical sounds including frying pans, cats yowling, and even a chicken were heard as the camera shook slightly to indicate the occurrence of an epic and brutal brawl. Eventually, the noises died down. The camera stopped shaking, and…a very bruised and battered Randy staggered limply back onto the screen.

NARRATOR: “Uh oh! Watch out for his tag team partner Randy…!”

A large and very heavy-looking sack, almost as large as Randy himself, swung down from the ceiling and knocked him right off-screen again. The bag, curiously enough, had the initials “MH V1” scrawled across it.

NARRATOR: “Oh dear, oh dear…well, nevermind Randy! Better luck next time!”

Randy crawled back onto the screen, sadly waving a pitiful white flag of surrender, as the rousing symphony orchestra started up once again, the symbol of the MPSA ‘Mattitude Eagle’ returned to the screen, and the picture ever so slowly faded into black…

75

Randy Orton lost 1 point of overness from this segment, and if you can’t understand why then you need to see a doctor (78 – 77)

[Matt]

I had fun writing this diary.

http://www.ewbattleground.com/forum/index....st&p=925711

Building Bridges

'What if I want more' by Stiff Little Fingers plays over the sound system that I spent my entire Friday afternoon setting up around the park. The sound system also includes 3 Count Bob's microphone, though I'm sure he doesn't need it. There is an old deserted building set about 50 metres away from the ring, and that is being used as the locker-room/backstage area for the shows. An Asian man slowly makes his way to the ring, raising his left arm in the air and trying to get a crowd reaction as he comes out in overalls with a toolbox in his right hand. He climbs into the ring and takes the microphone from 3 Count Bob.

Ahmed: "Tank-you, mista tree count Bob. It is very much, how you say, appreciated. Naw, I do not know-o if you already know thees, but I will tell you anyway. My name is Ahmed Ashed. I am what you call carpenter, or builder, yes? You know not what I mean now? Is it not? Yes? But please, no, no, please. Do not, ugh, mock, yes, yes, mock, me for my name. You see when I was ugh... Born, yes, born. I lived in a country called Pakistan, yes, Pakistan, have you heard? Yes, yes. Yoo see, people, they, how you say, taunt me, when they hear my name and job, you know-o? It is not nice, it is not fault that my name has what you call... Err.... Ee-rony, yes yes, ee-rony, that is it. I do not juust build sheds, no-o, that would be stupid. No, no, I actually build lots of other tings aswell, you know? Like how you say ugh... Kitchen, yes? Kitchen. I build kitchen for my grandmother. She like very much, but she old and smell like old person, so I do not know.

The crowd chuckle, whether it is at his terrible humour or at his poor English - although that's just a work, he's actually lived in England all his life and speaks in a very fluent manner - I'm not exactly sure.

Ahmed: "Well anyway, too-night, I will be taking o-on, a man that I have managed to know these past few weeks. He name is Razor, and he is good, ugh, how you say? Wrestl-ar. Yes, yes, that is it. Wrestl-ar. But tonight, I do ugh... What you Amer-ee-cans call ugh... Kick ass! Yes, yes? You know. So mista tree-count Bob, would you please allow my opponent to come out here and get his, how you say, backside kicked by me... Ahmed Ashed! Yes, yes!"

3 Count Bob then takes the microphone away from Ahmed as Ashed goes to the turnbuckle to pose for the crowd who enjoyed his promo. Meanwhile, 'Razorblade Kiss' by HIM plays over the sound system as Razor makes his way out to the ring to a small pop from the crowd, who are basically cheering for the sake of it.

Bob: "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and is a first round match of the True Ironman tournament, introducing first, already in the ring, Ahmed Ashed. And his opponent, making his way to the ring, from the streets of New York City, weighing in at 264 pounds, he is Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-zor!"