There’s no messing about on Smackdown. No silly intros, just straight into a match, which happened to be Batista vs Matt Hardy. This was all about giving Batista a tune-up before his match against former friend, Rey Mysterio, at Survivor Series. Observation: As a heel Dave doesn’t pretend to throw a hand grenade and let the pyro explode behind him, yet as a nice guy he did. You’d think it would be the other way round. Like “You don’t like me? Well catch this exploding bomb then.” Just sayin’. Matt Hardy took quite a beating, finding himself slammed into the canvas from a great height several times. Yes, Mr. Striker, I agree, Dave is indeed ready for Rey Mysterio.
The bravest little boy in the company, Josh Matthews, stuck a microphone in Dave’s face to ask how he’s feeling. Personally, I’d be giving Dave a wide berth, but that’s why I’m sitting here drinking tea out of a Starbucks paper cup I’ve used three times today because I can’t be bothered to use a real mug, and Josh is earning lots of money working for the WWE. Basically, Batista has no remorse over the way he’s been treating his former pal and is looking forward to finishing it for good at the PPV.
Later on the show, The Undertaker would be teaming up with pretend brother, Kane, to reform the Brothers of Destruction. Vickie Guerrero wasn’t happy with this and not only went to warn Teddy Long of the chaos it could create, but she also wanted to complain that her play-thing, Eric Escobar, was being sidelined. Escobar may possibly be the most annoying wrestler on TV at the moment. Then again, it has been pointed out that I turn more times than a rotisserie chicken, so it’ll probably be a matter of weeks before I fall in love with him. Dolph Ziggler is a classic example of this. Initial loathing, swiftly followed by intense adoration. I’m so fickle.
Anyway, Teddy tried to throw the two of them out of his office. Mr. McMahon showed up, told Teddy off for an idea that wasn’t his own and appointed Vickie as ‘consultant to Smackdown’ to help Teddy get off probation. This was promptly followed by some high-pitched screeching and some horrible dancing.
Back in the ring, Drew McIntyre’s shower curtain has been given a nice little satin trim. Better, but I want more plastic jewels. Back to the glue-gun, wardrobe dept. Apparently, Finlay reminds Drew of a little old lady. Don’t think so, Drew. He looks like a tough-nut to me. Unless you were thinking of this old lady.
Finlay came out and wasted no time in smacking up the sleek, serpentine and sadistic Scotsman (Credit: Striker). Drew didn’t know what had hit him, Finlay coming at him and throwing him around like a whirlwind. The only thing Drew could think to do was poke Finlay in the eyes, buying himself a few seconds of respite. As Matt Striker so cleverly pointed out, there’s no eye machine in the gym. You can’t prepare for that. I would recommend blogging for strengthening the eye muscles. My eye muscles are RIPPED. Being temporarily blind, Finlay didn’t see McIntryre coming in for the pin.
Right, time for some CM Punk and Mr. Punk had a special treat for us. He held an intervention to cure us all of our addictions. Wicked! I’m totally up for being ‘intervened’ if Punk wants to lock me in a room with him and talk to me about my sins. Made all the more ironic by the fact that I watched this week’s Smackdown while sucking lager through a straw.
Punk suggested that we might like to touch hands to ensure the intervention’s success. Actually I think those are séance rules, but I’ll go along with whatever he wants.
The first addiction on the list was cigarettes. I haven’t smoked since I was 17. That was some time ago and even then it was only for a short time.
Next, prescription medication. Ok, well, I am fond of Ibuprofen 400s. But I’m very cautious about when I take them. I have got quite a painful jaw problem though (for real). So if I need them I’ll take them, because I know you don’t want to see me cry, Mr. Punk. Ditto my migraine medicine.
I’m sorry I make you ill. I feel ashamed. Maybe I’ll feel better about myself if I have another slurp from my kiddie cup.
Punk proceeded to pour each vice into a big rubbish bin. Cue R-Truth, who was so angry he didn’t even rap his way out. Worryingly, I seem to have picked up all the words listening to him in recent months and was able to fill in the blanks myself. Basically, Truth didn’t like the sanctimonious garbage coming out of Punk’s mouth and knocked him to the ground, pouring the fags, pills and ‘liquid hell’ all over Punk’s body.
Ahem. Back to some actual wrestling. John Morrison was defending his Intercontinental Title against Dolph Ziggler. Again. Surely Dolph’s going to pull it off this time, right? Nope. This was a Best of Three Falls match, Morrison taking the first, Ziggler taking the second (of course) and Morrison taking the third. Not even this awesome move could finish Morrison off.
Great match though. Matt Striker said I have to soak John Morrison in. Ok, if you insist. But only because Matt told me I have to.
The Divas match was next. But I’ve already said far too much about that this weekend. Track back if you want to read my rant.
After that silliness, it was time for Rey Mysterio vs Tyson Kidd, with Batista on commentary. Well, he didn’t actually say anything so it doesn’t really count as commentary. He did put his headset on though. Unfortunately, he was so angry after his match with Matt Hardy he forgot to put his trousers on.
Fairly decent match with some impressive aerobatics, but all eyes were on the menacing figure at the announce table. Dave tried to interfere but Rey managed to knock him off his chair and make away with his body still intact. This will all sort itself out at the PPV.
Speaking of big stuff happening at the PPV, JeriShow vs the Brothers of Destruction was a great taster for the Triple Threat between Taker, Jericho and Big Show for the Heavyweight Title at SS. Thanks to the Smackdown match I’m actually looking forward to the PPV match now, and before that I was kind of meh about it. Jericho eventually took the win, swiping the belt and running to the top of the ramp. It’s not yours yet, darl. But you never know.