Raw(lite): partie une – d’introductions

This is actually the second time I’ve written this post. I had almost finished it when my laptop decided to throw a wobbler. Once it rebooted only a small portion of what I had written had saved. I was CRUSHED. And, oh dear, two recaps to write before the next Raw. Whoops. Time hates me. And huge thanks to the universe for giving me a full-power migraine last night, scuppering my writing plans. I had flickering lights and everything. It was disco-time in my head. Anyway, I am now making a recovery so I’ll make an attempt at recapping Raw (for the second time) and will try to remember all the hilarious jokes I cracked first time around. You can’t just summon up that kind of spontaneity, ya know. I’m an artist.

With Backlash out of the way this week’s Raw and Smackdown were an opportunity to move on, start afresh and introduce old faces to new brands. It really was a week for introductions, and it felt like stepping outside on a beautiful Spring day and filling my lungs with fragrant, clean air. And how often can you really mention the words ‘wrestling’ and ‘fragrant’ in the same sentence?

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Raw kicked off with Mouth-Almighty (Vickie Guerrero) in the ring, sporting some new hair extensions.  She introduced Randy Orton, who did the robot and made his way to the ring, flanked by Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. Gotta be honest, I thought he milked the entrance a bit, but hey, I’d rather that than Triple H.

Randy swelled his own ego with a rousing speech of hatred. I think maybe the management realised that we’ve become quite fond of Randy in recent weeks and we needed to hate him again.  What better way to make someone hate you than batter their self-esteem.  Apparently, those of us in our twenties and younger hope for big things, huge success, we have big dreams, but in the end the odds are we will amount to nothing. YYYYYYYAAAAWCH! Randy, why you hurt me like that? What have I done to you? See, now I just wanna prove you wrong. And the outlook is in even bleaker for people in the thirties and older. Chances are they already ARE nothing. :( But as long as Randy is a success, that’s all that matters, right? Hate him enough now, do ya? Yeah, me too. BOOOOOOO! Mission accomplished, writing team.

Vickie fawned all over Randy like a giddy teenager and went on to announce that the winner of the Big Show/Batista match that night would be number one contender for Randy’s belt at Judgement Day.

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We were then reminded that we, fans and fellow supa-stahs, were obliged to respect Mr. Orton’s achievements.  But then he was conveniently interrupted by some tick-tocking. M.V.P. When he came out I was thinking ‘meh’. By the time he left, I was a fan. I’m such a sucka. I play right in to Vince’s hands every time. So, a challenger for Randy Orton. Cool. DiBiase stepped up and encouraged Montel to leave while he had the chance. And his response…. “Break yo-self, lackie, Randy didn’t give you permission to speak. So I ain’t going nowhere. Dig this Randy, I don’t have a couple of Abercrombie and Fitch models to do my talking for me. “ YEEEEEEAH! Sorry, but you know I couldn’t resist this.

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M.V.P offered himself up on a plate to Randy, Cody whined, Randy whispered sweet nothings in Vickie’s ear, she confirmed that Randy and Montel would get it on on Raw that night….and no, Vickie still can’t pronounce Orton. Enunciate, baby.

First match of the night was Brian Kendrick vs Kofi Kingston. That’s right, I left out the ‘THE’, what are YOU gonna do about it, doll-face-ache? Pretty decent match.  I like Kingston. I’m looking forward to a couple of years from now when he will be main-eventing. Yes, King, it is exciting to watch Kofi Kingston.  He pinned Kendrick FTW.  After a recap of John Cena’s dive in to a 7000w searchlight (oh, that’s what it was), we take a trip backstage with Vickie and Big Show. Don’t pretend you didn’t say EEEWWWWW! in your head.

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It may very well get awful lonely on Monday nights, but I’d rather be lonely every night than, ya know.  Good call, Vickie. Professional was definitely the way to go.

From the slightly ridicuous to the absolutely abominable. SantinA Marella, Kelly-Kelly, Brie Bella and Mickie James Vs Beth Phoenix, Rosa Mendes, Jillian and Maryse. You know what? At some point, when I have a little more time, I’m going to break the habit of a lifetime and do a serious post about the women of the WWE. And unlike the ladies, it won’t be pretty. It’s getting to the stage where I almost can’t stand it any more. The whole ‘match’ was gross. This pretty much sums it up. Bleurgh!

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And just to make up a hatrick of silliness, Matt Hardy solemnly walked to the ring, cradling his broken hand and branding his brother a barbarian. Ooh so many B’s.  Apparently he ‘suffered a brutal break to his second metacarpal’.  Mmmm, medical terminology. Yum. I loves me some doctor speak. According to my deductions (meaning I asked my Dad) you would not be wrapped in a large arm cast for a broken metacarpal unless the fracture had travelled down the finger in to the hand.  He certainly wouldn’t be able to wiggle his digits so freely. Trust me, I know.  I broke my fingers during a particularly….err…passionate game of netball in high school. But whatever. I just remembered none of this is real anyway.

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Goldust appeared, looking more and more like his father every day, to fight a one-handed Matt Hardy under duress. Check out those golden jowls.  Matt, somehow, pinned Goldust and left the ring pulling ‘Oww, it hurts’ faces.

Time for a real match. Randy Orton and M.V.P.  This turned out to be a great match. No, really.  Their styles seemed to compliment each other and I was really getting in to the actual wrestling. Cheering, gasping, punching my fist for M.V.P. But then just as I was starting to enjoy the end of the Orton/McMahon debacle,  this happened (skip to 1m 55s)……

Bloody hell! Why d’you have to go and spoil it? UUUUUURRRGH! Shane, get back to boardroom and do what you’re paid to do. The party’s over. Let the talent do the wrestling. I beg of you. You can stop impressing your Dad now.

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Next up, The Miz. Google his name and he’ll have more hits than any one of us. Oh, and apparently Lauren Conrad, Paris Hilton and The Duff Sisters are in his phone and don’t know who the hell I am. I’m DEVASTATED. It’s my life’s ambition to receive a text message from Paris telling me that something is HAAAAT. Errrrrm, no. God, I know this guy is SUPPOSED to be annoying. I know he’s MEANT to make me wanna flip him the bird, but damn, it worked.

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All up in my face, challenging John Cena after he’s been thrown through glass and belittling his movies. Yawch. Ok, maybe he can have that one. But still, URGH! And where do you get off picking on Lillian Garcia? She sings the national anthem and announces everyone’s stats. WTF did she do to you, jackass? I SO want Lillian’s job, by the way. Although, I doubt I’d be able to keep my cool announcing certain people to ring.

Thankfully, this irritating segment was followed by a flick through the photo album from the recent WWE tour of Europe. It’s highly probable that I squealed a high pitched WHEEEEEEE when this came on the screen.

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Ha. That’s where I’m from. And they were in my town. Yey. And they’ve actually got my town’s name on Raw. Ha. Wait. That’s John Cena in one of those pictures. I didn’t know he was in town. I thought it was just the mid-carders. Shit. I missed John.  Well now I’m just depressed. Thanks, Raw. Thanks a lot. Just give me another match to cheer me up. Oh, Tag-Team stuff. I’m feeling too blue to talk about that, so just know that Carlito and Primo beat Jamie Noble and Chavo when Carlito pinned Noble.

I need something to make me smile again. Ah-ha, here we go. Dave Batista about to cry. Result! Little Josh Matthews went up to big Dave Batista and asked him if he felt responsible for Triple H’s loss at Backlash. Brave, Matthews. Very brave. I like your moxy. Dave did a weepy piece to camera about how he felt Hunter’s pain and would hurt Randy Orton on his behalf. Ok, I’m back. Me smiley again.

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But then Vickie Guerrero made a meal of announcing that next week’s Raw would include a match between Shane McMahon and Randy Orton. Excuse me while I choke on my own metacarpals. Something NOT to look forward to.  That news almost spoilt Dave’s match with Big Show completely for me. If it wasn’t for the fact that Dave’s trunks started riding up fairly early on and he didn’t feel inclined to re-position them, I would have turned off early.

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By the way, David, I TOTALLY blame you for Ricky Hatton’s loss against Manny Pacquiao last night. I fully believe that if you hadn’t escorted Manny to the ring and worked some kind of voodoo on my Ricky, he definitely would have won.

In a pleasurable twist, John Cena (remarkably uncut by all that glass) stumbled his way to the ramp, distracted Big Show, costing him not only the match, but also the opportunity to fight for some bling at Judgement Day. Oh John, I can always rely on you to be my hero and cheer me up the end of a bad day. Well, he DOES love me. He said so publicly last week on Superstars. Ah, I feel better now. Time to go recap some Smackdown.

Backlash: sweeping the big janitor’s broom

Following Wrestlemania is a tough gig. If the WWE were a Hollywood red carpet, Backlash would be the poor soul who has to step on the velvet five seconds after Angelina Jolie arrived. After the most sought after ‘event’ has arrived, everything else is kind of a let-down.

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But Backlash does serve a purpose.  It serves as one of those wide janitor’s brooms, sweeping away the dead feuds and fights, and making way for a brand new year.  Yes, you’re right, I AM feeling very philosophical today. Backlash turned out to be surprisingly good. Let’s see how it all panned out.

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After an intro which sounded like an excerpt from a Tolkien novel, it was time to get down to the serious business of belt exchange. ECW kicked everything off with Christian/Jack Swagger. Yes, I am a peep. I was looking forward to this one. I’m ashamed to say that I don’t give ECW enough of my time, but at least I get to dip a toe in to extweem waters at the PPVs.

The match was very good. There was something very amateur about it. And I mean that in the olympic sense of two men spooning and flipping each other. I like submission moves only slightly less than the high-flying-jumpy nonsense.  I think it’s all that long drawn-out touching. The match also produced some in-ring man-hugs, which you know make me all warm and fuzzy inside. They held each other so tight I started singing Johnny Logan’s Hold Me Now. Nothing like a bit of shit Irish pop from the 80s to really pep up a wrestling match.

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Christian won and the peeps went wild, including me. Who’d have thought I’d get so excited about an ECW match? Time for Captain Charisma to take his new bling backstage and receive some love from his fellow ECW buds. But wait….someone else is waiting in the wings too. EDGE. Oh My God.  Seeing the two of them together again was like opening an old photo album from a decade ago.  Amazing. And I loved the whole ‘what happened to you? bit. You used to be…I dunno…fun?’ Edge you’ve chaaaaanged. It’s kind of early in the show for this, but hey, I’ve got plenty of capacity for multiple ones…… WRESTLEGAAAAASSSSSMMM! Oooof! That was nice. What’s next?

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Uh-oh. I don’t know if I’m quite ready for another wrestlegasm yet. Chris Jericho’s  on his way to the ring. Give me a minute……. Ok, so, on the Raw after Wrestlemania Ricky Steamboat made a big, dragon sized splash. And as the WWE has a penchant for milking a good thing for everything it’s worth, almost a month on they’re still wheeling the poor guy out against Jericho. Is it just me or did Ricky lose a few clumps of hair between Raw and Backlash? He looked extra old, making my earlier claim that he was kind of sexy even more vomit enducing by the day. Anyway….fight.

It wasn’t a great match. It was, however,  very noisy. There was lots of AAAAAAAAAAAAH! OHHHHHHHHHHH! HUHHHHHHH! COME OOOOOOON! But if you think about the fact that this is a 56 year old man holding his own against a man young enough to be his son (just) it was quite impressive(ish).I suppose because the match was the end of a feud it didn’t really mean anything. It’s all finito.  Jericho twisted Ricky in to the Walls of Jericho and forced him to tap out. Chris left the ring and let the ledge have his moment in the sun.

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There was a backstage moment between Santino and Beth, but at this stage I was still boycotting their story so I closed my eyes and ears off to it.  Back in the arena Kane and CM Punk were preparing for battle. I almost cut the next part out. My infatuation with ‘CM Punk’s Junk’ has been remarked upon elsewhere in unfavourable terms.  But, well, who cares what anyone else thinks?   My mission statement warned against this kind of sexual silliness so, legally, I’m covered.

Punk is wearing the lavender coloured trunks again.  He obviously read last week’s Raw recap and wore them especially for me….being that I enjoyed them so much. Oh you’re such a flirt, Punky, but you know I love a flirt.  Mwah! So, yeah, there was actually a match too. Gotta be honest, I can’t remember much. I really was too distracted. And it was another one of those ‘end of game’ matches, allowing Kane to avenge his loss in the Wrestlemania Money in the Bank match and move on.  It was actually pretty solid throughout, and ended with Kane pinning Punk.

Much as I love the lavender shorts, they do have the disadvantage of being quite indescreet with regard to ass-sweat.  Personally, I like to think the wet patches are physical symbols of effort, but you might wanna get some Right Guard down there if you’re going to continue wearing those shorts for me, hun.

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Now on to Brother vs Brother in the ‘I Quit’ match.  I was surpised how much I enjoyed this match. I had planned for boredom and planted Glamour magazine down the side of the armchair in case I needed some additional stimulation. But who needs to know how to recreate Miley Cyrus’ cover-look when you’ve got the wrestling equivalent of Joan Rivers in the ring, in the form of the referee. Armed with a big fluffy mic in his back pocket, he annoyingly shoved it in between Matt and Jeff’s lips at every possible opportunity. At least he didn’t call either of them a fugly bitch or frighten small children with his face.

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It was all going as expected until proceedings took a sinister twist.  Matt was rolling around in agony. Then came the table, which Matt was spread across. Then, by some magical coincidence, some duct tape and rope appeared. This doesn’t look good for Matthew. Jeff tied him up like a side of beef ready for roasting. All of a sudden I’ve got a hankering for gravy.

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Then came the ladder. Uh-oh.  Followed by the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in ages. Matt, tied to a table, pleading for his life. “JEFF. I’M SORRY, JEFF. I LOVE YOU, JEFF. MATT  LOVES YOU. WE’RE BROTHERS. THE HARDY BOYS. WE CAN DO IT ALL AGAIN. DADDY WOULDN’T LIKE IF YOU DID THIS.” Oh my god, it was amazing, in such a bad way. See what I mean about the WWE being comical in all the wrong places?

Realising that Jeff wasn’t about to retreat, Matt shouted out ‘I QUIT’ and the bell was tolled. But that didn’t stop he of the purple locks. He jumped over the top of his ladder and planted his posterior on his brother’s breast-bone. There’s nothing like family, eh?

Randy Orton did a little piece to camera and back in the arena The Great Khali was carrying his colossal carcus to the ring. Christ, if I wasn’t reviewing this shit I SOOOOOO would have fast-forwarded this next segment. See all the pain I put myself through for my readers? I’m a trooper. Much as I tried to resist it, I did laugh. Even though in my head I was saying “Don’t laugh. It’ll only encourge them to keep churning out this bollocks.” Santino Marella, as far as comedy performances go, is actually really good. But the stories they give him are beyond irritating. The Rock managed to be funny without dressing like a lady. I tried not to laugh when Santina declared her love for Jim Ross, but I couldn’t help it. And when Khali ripped Santina/o’s top off, leaving her/him running out the arena clutching her/his  boobs/moobs I actually LOL’d. What’s happening to me? Thank god my old-skool ECW DVDs arrived today. I need a reality check.

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Next up we have the match I was kind of dreading. I was just so bored with the whole Macmahon-Family-Masturbation-Moments that I wasn’t sure I could bear any more. AAAAnd I’m pissed off that Shane ignored my advice to wear less clothes. Purely for wellbeing purposes, of course. You know, sometimes I wonder if Randy Orton is actually human. Remember when he first appeared on our screens with a bad haircut and slightly chubby in the face? I swear he went away and Vince sent him back as a cyborg.  Seriously, did you see the way Legacy walked to the ring? I’m convinced if you sliced open Orton’s chest an array of sparking wires and cables would pour out.

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Anyway, the match wasn’t that bad. In places it was pretty good, especially towards the end when it was just Hunter and Randy in the ring alone. In fact, when Randy jumped in the air, threw his arms around Triple H’s neck and dragged him to the ground I may have just leaped from my armchair and said “YESSSSSS!”. Not that I was involved or anything. A kick to the head later and it was all over.  I always feel slightly uneasy when they bring the paramedics in. I know it’s all for dramatic effect, but still, it makes my tummy feel strange.  And the way Lawler, Ross and Cole drop their voices down an octive. They do the serious-times voice. Don’t like it. Apparently Triple H is going to have a nice little holiday now. Good. He’s been getting on my nerves.  It’ll give me the chance to miss him.

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Ok, here we go. Last Man Standing. Edge. John Cena. I’ve been crushing on this match for weeks so it better not disappoint.  It didn’t. It. was. awesome. Punch after kick after drop after count. Just when you thought they had taken their last breath, they stumbled to their feet again. It all really started kicking off when Edge cleared the announce table and set John up for a drop through the table. But in a counter move John flipped Edge in to the crowd, dropping his oily form on top of an ‘unsuspecting fan’. Notice how nobody helped the ‘fan’ up to his feet? ha.

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Edge DID make it to his feet, so on we go. But not back to the ring……….they then started scuttling through the hyperactive crowd,  followed by the referees. From the crowd they moved to the arena lobby, where there seemed to be an alarming number of people shelling out for overpriced nachos and hotdogs while this was going on. Errrrm. Hang on a minute here. I don’t know how much the tickets for Backlash cost, but who would go and buy snacks  while the main event was going on? Even if you weren’t a fan of either dude, wouldn’t you at least want to see the headlining match? Strange people.

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They re-entered the arena, conveniently finding themselves at the top of the ramp. John dropped Edge in to the hard stage and Edge cracked John with something that just fell in to his hand. It was a carefully positioned hard-hat. Don’t you just hate when construction workers leave their shit lying around? Anyway, Edge whacked John with a chair, but the babe made it back up again, picking Edge up across his shoulders as he went. But just as he was about to go for another drop, Big Show appeared. Whaaaaaa? Oh yeah, he was involved in the same Wrestlemania match. I forgot.

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In more adventures in randomness, Big Show lifted John by the neck and slammed in to a large side-stage spotlight thing. I love the idea that someone was sat under the ramp with a big, red, GO button to press when John hit the sugar-glass, so that a big puff of smoke would fly up. And I love that it was set up to have flames coming out the back for authenticity.

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The flames were extinguished and with “John Cena covered in shards of glass” he was counted out, giving Edge the much pursued title. See? Told you it was awesome.

And by far the best thing of all was when Christian, Kofi Kingston, Finley and CM Punk (so concerned at John’s condition) came out in their off-duty-wrestler-outfits to see what they could do to assist the medics. Thank god Punk was there to do up that final strap on the stretcher. I mean, seriously, what would the paramedics have done without Dr. Punk’s expertise? I love you WWE.

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Smackdown(lite): Hamlet, Hair, Hobos and Hugs

Same arena, same crappy set, different day. Yep, Smackdown too was from the London O2 arena this week. Well, why spend 24 hours moving to a new city when you can stay where you are and drink the hotel bar dry. I’m talking to YOU, Miz. Twitter is so much fun.

I think I have an apology to make. I TOTALLY missed the fact that the set had a red phone box on it. I only noticed it when I watched Smackdown. That really tops it off. Because I don’t think those things even exist any more…apart from as novelties. WWE set designers: when you return to these shores in November you must try harder or I’ll pound ya!

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So we begin with Edge. If I hadn’t enjoyed Smackdown so much this week, I’d quite happily have ditched the rest of it and just recapped Edge’s soliloquy. Seriously, it was like an Ontario Theatre Company’s production of Hamlet. It was a thing of beauty. But Smackdown was worthy of a full run-down so this will have to be a long one.

You know, if all this were real, I’d be wrapping a patchwork quilt around Edge, making him some tea, and calling Social Services. In fact, he was so convincingly deranged on SD that I was inches away from being sucked in.  But then I realised that no man who is so up-to-date with his blonde highlights roots could be losing the plot, and I came back down to earth.

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By  the way, if anyone knows what brand of sunnies he’s wearing there, let me know. I WANT! Actually, maybe I’ll just ask him myself on Twitter.

It started well. Edge was calm, collected, cool, cucumber-esque.  But then he started recalling John’s resolve and  began descending in to desperation. He reminded us of the whooping he gave John on Raw and suddenly realised how alone he really is. GOD, I eat this stuff up. The spotlight in the ring, all those long camera shots followed by extreme close-ups. Oooh yeah! He told us once again that he feels worthless without the title, ran his fingers through his beautifully coiffed tresses and…..

“My wife Vickie can’t help…….I have no friends……in your own words John, I’m a desperate man!”

At this point I was so involved I felt like putting my hand on his shoulder and saying I, will be your friend.” Yes, you are correct, I AM a loser.  Nevertheless, he went on to prematurely declare himself the Last Man Standing. Fabulous. (Copeland….let me know who does your highlights too, please.)

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Now that I’m emotionally spent I could do with some light relief. Unfortunately, Todd Grisham’s crack about the Queen’s crib and BBQ ham didn’t satisfy. Must be one of those American jokes I don’t understand. Like Sarah Silverman.

First match of the night is Matt Hardy & Kane Vs Jeff Hardy & CM Yum.  The whole Matt/Jeff ‘I quit’ thing is kind of redundant now, being that we all know Jeff won’t be resigning his current contract. Apparently he’s tired and just wants to do something else for a while.  I kind of admire him for having the courage to do that when he’s so popular at the moment. Ooh, serious mo there. Back to the match. It wasn’t bad actually. Some nice little shimmies. And surprisingly long for a Smackdown match. Matt pinned Jeff FTW.  I notice you’re having some make-up slippage issues there, Jeffrey. Try Revlon Colour-Stay Foundation. It can be a bit cakey if you don’t put it on with a light touch, but it does last. Even on oily skin. And it’s reasonably priced too.

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Big Show/Undertaker was kind of slow and tedious. I felt like I wanted to find their wind-up key and make things go faster. So, to continue the hair and beauty theme (which I swear was totally unplanned) I found myself thinking about how I’d change Undertaker’s fake-tan to a less vibrant shade of tangerine and teach him how to use eyeliner so he doesn’t end up with a harsh line. Smudge, babe. Smudge.

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After a huge punch from the ginormous fist of the Big Show, Undertaker was deemed unfit to continue. Taker stumbled to his feet looking like a wasted hobo, and countered to regain his dignity. Buh-bye Big Show. Enjoy Raw!

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Time for some lady action – Gail Kim v Maryse. I don’t know what it is about Maryse, but I’m not liking her. Something doesn’t sit right with me. And it’s not that “Bitch is more beautiful than me so I hate her guts” stuff either. Todd Grisham dared to say “that this French-Canadian is less popular over here in the United Kingdom than she is in North America.” Ohhh that’s what it is. The British have an involuntary hate of all Frenchness. (Apart from the cheap wine we like to sneak over on the ferry from Callais). And I thought it was just the irritating hair-flicking and the evil-claw-hand. Now I understand. On the flip side, I kind of like Gail Kim. But every time I see her I think of the ‘Cool Asians’ in the cafeteria scene in Mean Girls.  Observe…….

Say what you want about Li-Lo’s debauched lesbian lifestyle, Mean Girls is one of the greatest films ever created. End of. Back to the business of grappling.  Maryse won and flicked her hair so hard she did her back in. Whooda thunk it? Weighty hair weave really is bad for your health.

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Jeff Hardy did a strange, swirly promo for Backlash, which I can only think was shot by some guy thinking “I spent four years at film school to work on this shit, I’m at least gonna be creative and maybe then I’ll get a movie gig.” Yah. Ok. Well….moving on. I can’t be bothered to talk about M.V.P and Chavo…..you just need to know that Montel won the match. Another one disappearing to Raw. His exit from the ring was interrupted by Dolph Ziggler. Umm. WHOOOOO? I’m so not into this guy. Firstly he has the hideous hair of Billy Gunn, then I can’t hear his name without thinking of Dolph Lundgren (remember him in Rocky IV) and apart from that he just seems like a complete tosser. Not a partial tosser, a complete one. I hope he doesn’t get any undeserved pushes. I will be pushing him straight back the way he came.

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We’re not getting the new WWE Superstars show over here yet (correct me if I’m wrong). I downloaded it last week but haven’t bothered yet this week. Thankfully, the John Cena interview from Superstars was repeated on SD. Lovely. But poor John was not feeling himself. He seemed a little blue. Awww. What’s up, sweetheart? He took a microphone, told Grisham he didn’t want to talk to him, looked straight in to the camera and said “For once, I’d like to talk to YOU.” That’s it. I was gone. Whatever words came out of his mouth, in my head, all I heard was this……..

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I gave myself a wrestlegasm with my own thoughts. Errrrrm, yeah. So….back in the realms of reality, the show ended with Shane and Batista Vs Rhodes and DiBiase. Kind of predictable, but fair play to Shane, he had a good go. He looked absolutely knackered by the end of it. Maybe if he wore less clothing he wouldn’t get so warm. Just sayin’. Shane made the pin, by the way. Oh and he even overcame his fear of boy juice and gave Dave a squeeze at the end. Nice.

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FAVOURITE CROWD MEMBER(S) OF THE SHOW

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These three who, despite possessing 0% dancability, rocked it out to M.V.P’s entrance music. You shake those tail feathers, fellas!

raw(lite): in my backyard

It has been a progressive week for those of us at wrestlegasm.com….and by ‘us’ I mean me. I made a triumphant return to my driving lessons, the pilates tutor came back from her Easter holidays making me feel all flexi again, it was close but no cigar with regard to meeting Rey Mysterio, and a girl flirted with me while she rubbed a promotional skincare product in to my hands. Yes! A Girl! I was spooked, but she rubbed me nice so I bought the product. Don’t judge. My other half is across the  Atlantic.  I’ll take any physical contact available.

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None of this has anything to do with Raw, so I’d better get started.

The WWE collective made their way over to my fair isle this week as part of their European tour.  I won’t tell you how much it made my heart ache that I couldn’t be in London for Raw and/or Smackdown but I’m still grasping at my chest at regular intervals.  The Cardiff events were house-shows and I doubt anyone that spectacular was there, but still, IT HOITS!

Raw was from the O2 Arena in London this week. Despite my sadness at not being there I was looking forward to being able to watch Monday Night Raw LIVE

  1. on Monday Night
  2. at a reasonable time of the day

Oh how wrong I was. Yes, Raw was in London but I had to wait until 2am for it to be broadcast so that Americans didn’t get annoyed that someone saw it before they did. Pppppfft! Americans. Gotta have everything their own way. Living in the future sucks. No wonder Marty Mcfly went back to 1985 at the end of BTTF 2. And just in case you were unsure whether  Raw was actually in London this week or not, the lame-ass set was there to help you out.

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They should have given me a call. I’m sure I could have come up with a more representative set.

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Anyway, time for some action. The week before they shift over to their new jobs on different brands is always a bit mixed. Welcome to the ‘tying up lose ends’ show. We begin with Mr. Jericho looking rather fetching in another snazzy suit, explaining that we’ve never really understood his brilliance. Honey, I hope you don’t count me in all that. I get your brilliance. I’m all over your brilliance like…ya know. Then we get a visit from Ricky Steamboat.  You know around Wrestlemania when I commented on his possibly hotness?  Errrrm, yeah, I’m gonna need to take that back. Thanks. It was the dad polo under his suit jacket that reversed his appeal. A step too far in to the aged-area.

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Ricky thanked Jericho for challenging the old duffers to a match at WM because it gave him the chance to return to his former glory, which Y2J beat down with a verbal stick, and challenged him to a repeat performance. Pause in the script and whooooooooooop here comes John Cena to put his arm around Steamboat and do a whole “Don’t pick on my mate!” schtick! But he didn’t. Chrissy-boy slinked out of the ring, Ricky Steamboat accepted the Wrestlemania rewind match and John Cena challenged Chris to a match that night. Yuuuuuuum! The two of them shirtless at the same time. Jericho didn’t seem too pleased, but I like to think that’s just because he was worried he wouldn’t look as hunky next to John. John being so enormous and all. It’s alright, sweets, I lust you both equally. Mwah!

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I have no idea what the Chavo Guerrero/Batista bit was all about. An odd comedy time filler. I’ll give it no more of my precious time. Backstage Shane and Dave were lined up to give me my first Man-Hug Moment of the Week but then Shane, like a complete pussy, pulled out at the last minute. Bloody hell Shane, it’s just sweat. It won’t burn your pale Connecticut skin. Doesn’t he realise I LIVE for the man-hugs?

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Next CM Punk Vs Kane. I had been crushing on Punk all week so I was looking forward to his appearance. Ummm, has he always worn those lavender coloured short-shorts, or is it just because I’m paying particular attention to his crotch now that he’s moved up in the hotness league. And why do the light colours seem so much more revealing?  I digress. Punk won the match, proving that wearing lady knickers is conducive to success.

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I’m still maintaining my Santino Embargo, so I won’t say anything about it. Melina beat Beth in her last match on Raw and we’re backstage again with Shane and Triple H. They DID have a man hug moment but I’m pissed off with Shane for retreating from the first one so I’m not giving him the satisfaction of being in another. Let that be a lesson to you, Sir.

On we go and it’s time for John Cena and Chris Jericho.  Good God – I think I died and went to meat-head heaven.  Speaking of meat…………ok I was gonna make a joke about me being the filling in their sandwich but it’s just too obvious.

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The crowd revealed themselves to be unmistakably British during this match. This country hates a good-guy. Seriously, when someone does really well the first reaction of this nation is to bring them down. No wonder we have national self-esteem issues. Maybe that’s why I loves me some USA. I like championing things. The crowd – they boo JC, then they love him.  They chant expletives at him, then they’re all “Ohhh yooou caaaan’t seeee meee!” Make your mind up, London.

In actual wrestling terms it was a pretty good match. Between the physical strength of JC and Jericho’s imaginative moves, it made for an entertaining dalliance, both chucking in their signature moves, both battling like troopers, even if it didn’t really mean anything. It all fell apart when Edge, the ultimate opportunist (thanks, Michael Cole),  interfered and left Johnny lying in the ring. He battered him some more before dragging in some of those special “steel” chairs. Instead of smashing John’s face in with furniture, he just counted him out for ten. Phew! John’s lips are safe!

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On to Rey Mysterio Vs Big Show.  You know what I love about wrestling? That logic plays no part whatsoever. Your educated brain says that the biggest guy in the company could not possibly lose to the tiniest, and yet your wrestling fan brain says “You go for it little-guy. We believe in you!” On this occasion Big Show won. It’s ok, Rey. You’ll live to fight another day. Actually he did. He was in Cardiff the next day signing encyclopedias. SOB!

We finish with our main event of the night.  Am I the only one getting fed up with the whole McMahon family Vs Legacy tripe? I loved it at first but when Triple H won the belt back at WM I started to lose heart. Maybe the peeps in charge have started to realise we’re getting bored because in the middle of Hunter’s entrance they paused to give us a random web-traffic statistic.

We interrupt scheduled programming for this important announcement: Boys like wrestling more than they like Oprah!

We interrupt scheduled programming for this important announcement: Boys like wrestling more than they like Oprah!

Why are they doing Triple H/Orton now? Aren’t we gonna see it ALL OVER AGAIN ON SUNDAY? Well, Monday for me. The match was fine but my storyline related grumpiness overshadowed the moves. It ended in a mass brawl with everyone involved in the Sunday main event knocking lumps out of each other.  Shane’s rolling punches and jabs are hilarious. He was most definitely born in the wrong age.

Randy pinned The Game and feigned a thigh injury to end the night. *bad sigh* Thank god this story comes to an end at the weekend. Sheesh!

FAVOURITE CROWD MEMBER OF THE SHOW

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This little dude. He has no idea what a sycophant is, but he knows he should be booing Chris Jericho when he says it. Awww.

Smackdown(Lite) Broken Men

I’ve kind of run out of time this week. The WWE Draft takes place on a special 3-hour Raw tonight and I haven’t even reviewed Friday’s Smackdown yet. Boo-hoo. Don’t question me. I have very valid reasons, ok?

In general, most of the superstars seemed a little worn out. Fair play, they had that long Wrestlemania weekend where they were pretty much on duty 24/7. Then Raw, live, on Monday. Then the taping of ECW and Smackdown on Tuesday. The boyz and girlz iz sleepy. And kind of broken. So, I’ll just pick out the real stand-out moment from Smackdown, Edge, a truly broken man.

When he first appeared, perched on his bar-stool in the middle of the ring, I thought he was going to burst in to song. I was expecting him to  seranade us with One For My Baby, light up a cigarette and slam his empty scotch tumbler on the bar. If, that is, there was an actual bar there.

What he actually told an unsympathetic crowd, was that he hadn’t slept in a week and that he was crushed by the fact that his title had been stolen from him by everyone’s Mr. Wonderful – John Cena.  You know what? Edge doesn’t get enough credit when he pulls this stuff. He’s so good, I don’t think the audience realises just how well he’s acting. Although, I’m pretty sure those bags under his eyes are as genuine as the suitcases under mine.

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As amazing as Edge is at making the crowd hate his guts, John Cena is just as brilliant at getting the crowd to lick his….err….wristbands. Out comes my lovely, smiling, ray of sunshine …..peacocking about with his new bling. OOooOoOorgh! Your lips look gorgeous tonight, John. But, ahem, that has nothing to do with the segment, just an observation.

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Moving on…… things start to get a little dark. Damn, Adam. You’re so good at this. Adam Edge tells John how he has no purpose without his Heavyweight title. How, stealing his golden life preserver has left him adrift and how he brought Cena out to let him know just how broken he was feeling. John and the crowd weren’t buying it and he RSVP’d with a slow, precise, perfectly timed……

“Get over yourself, Edge! You, lost, at Wrestlemania.”

SWOOOOOOOOOOOON! But that was just the beginning.

John dragged his stool in a little closer, after being told that he ruined Edge’s life, and got serious. I LOVE-LOVE-LOVE when John gets really serious. He drops ‘Brand Cena’ and seems like a real person. The meeting of their two opposite characters was, as usual, awesome. Edge, so shaken and desperate, John, so controlled and secure. John gave Edge a speech that left him, well, speechless. And as he went to walk away this beautifully manic piece of psychological tennis ensued:

“I hate you. I HATE YOU! Hate. Hate is a strong word but it sums up everything I feel for you Cena. I hate your hat, I hate your t-shirts, I hate your wristbands, I hate your shoes, I hate your music, I hate the C-Nation, I hate everything that you stand for.”

vlcsnap-7212963-copyCheck out that under-eye luggage.  You need an icy flannel and some rest, darling.

But oh no….fuck yeah…..J-to-tha-C’s about to lose his rag. Time to put a stop to flaky Edge with a big, definite NOOOOOOOOO!”

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The crowd, at this point, are totally sucked in. And so am I. John gets a lot of shit for being Mr. Corporate. Sometimes it is easy to forget he’s where he is because he’s a nice little package of everything. John’s next little ‘moment’ seals the deal for me. Take it away baby………

“You, you may be a better wrestler than me. You may be smarter than me. You may know how to use your opportunities and resources to get you a championship but I look in to your eyes right now I know you’re desperate. You’re grabbing at straws. You’re tired. You’re exhausted. A last man standing match. A LAST MAN STANDING MATCH? Edge, that is a match based on PUNISHMENT. And I can look in your eyes right now and know I’m telling the damn truth when I tell you I’M TOUGHER THAN YOU. That is why IIIIII will be the last man standing, that is WHYYYY YOOOOU. HATE. ME.”

Holy mother of god. I think I’ma gunna faint from over-stimulation. Someone pass me the smelling salts. And an icy flannel of my own. *Southern Belle Accent* I do declare, Mr. Cena, that I am a little overcome with the tumultuous events of the evening. Would you please be a gentleman and escort me back to my chambers, sir? *wink*

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Oh….and just in case you were wondering………………….

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“It’s not the hat….it’s not the wristbands….. it’s not the t-shirt, it’s not the dog-tags, IT’S THE TRUTH! Because you think about all those matches we’ve had, you think about every time we’ve beat the hell out of each other, every time you’ve ran back at hit me with everything you had….and then WATCHED. ME. GET. BACK. UP. You hate me? You hate me so bad and it’s gotta come to an end? You wanna end it, end it RIGHT NOW! COME ON!”

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At this point I passed out from extreme passion OVERLOAD. Luckily, I recorded the show so I was able to watch the rest of it afterwards. After much posturing and shirt removal, a demoralised Edge left the ring without harming a hair on Cena’s head. I went somewhere to catch my breath.

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You know what, I could have just posted a link to this on youtube, but then I wouldn’t be a writer, would I? If you do want to watch it, and I recommend you do, click here for part 1 and then here for part 2.

Enjoy the draft, guys. I’ll catch ya on the flip side. Yo!