smackdown(lite): babycham, quiche and butternut squash

I’m writing this recap from my sick-bed. If I fall asleep in the middle, set off a firecracker or something……
It seems there is a new star on Smackdown. A genuine star. One that could stick around for a long time. Alberto Del Rio. I am now sorry for the fact that I ripped the wee out of him during those promo videos because, OK they weren’t great, but I had no idea how much of a perfect heel package Alberto would turn out to be. Smackdown is, on the whole, consistently good. But it’s been needing a little shot to the arm lately. Bingo!
Alberto Del Rio is the perfect heel in that you kind of hate him, but you really love him too. Nobody likes someone who flaunts money and status in their faces, but he does it with such professional delivery and with such unique personality, it’s almost impossible not to be impressed. And this isn’t just a character thing. He can go in the ring too. You can’t spend all those years in Lucha without having learnt a few tricks. He may be new, but he’s about as much a rookie as Bryan Danielson was when he was plonked in FCW. Oh and he just happens to be a looker too, so definitely ‘full package’ material. To paraphrase the superstar himself… he’s the man, he’s handsome, he’s powerful, he’s rich, he’s everythiiiiiiing!
Last week’s Smackdown began with a trademark Del Rio fiesta! (Always punctuate fiesta with an ‘!’.) It was quite the spectacle. The Bentley, the all-white suit, the personal ring announcer, staff carrying salvers of Babycham and cheese & pineapple on cocktail sticks. There were turnbuckle balloons and, of course, what fiesta! would be complete without a piñata in a Rey Mysterio mask? It will come as no surprise to you that, as the piñata was a metaphor for Mysterio, it took a beating and its insides were spilt out over the ring. Although, I hope the metaphor doesn’t end up being too literal. Nobody wants to see a pancreas flopping around the ring or anything.
Del Rio was interrupted by Christian, who mocked him, sang at him in a condescending manner, chewed and then hocked out his individual mini-quiches, before carrying the pinata theme forward, branding Del Rio a jackass. A small scuffle ensued but Del Rio decided he wasn’t ready to put Christian to bed just yet. He walked away, Drew McIntyre ran in with sneaky attack on Christian from behind and Del Rio returned to pour some Dom over Christian’s head. TIP: If someone is going to shower you with stupidly expensive hooch OPEN YOUR MOUTH!
With Christian dazed, in pain and mildly tipsy, Drew McIntyre decided to bring their billed match forward to that moment, to ensure his win. What Drew hadn’t kept in mind was that Canadian’s are almost as good at absorbing booze as the British, so he managed to shake-off the Del Rio induced hangover and pin Drew for the win.
On to the ladies, where Kelly Kelly grinned and pouted her way to the ring in anticipation for her match against Michelle McCool. Layla joined Grisham and Striker on commentary and was treated to Matt Striker’s ever improving London accent. He’ll be spitting rhymes with Dizzee before we know it! Incidentally, both myself and Andrew have spotted that Layla’s sounding slightly more British lately. The Transatlantica accent is slipping away a little more every week. She may have decided to do this herself or maybe someone suggested it would be a good idea. You know, because foreign = heel. Nothing pleases us more than to hear chants of USA! USA! USA! every time someone not of those shores appears. (UGG) Either way, we wholeheartedly approve.
Oh, right, the match. It was pretty quick and ended as such:
BFF Champs 4evah n evah. Lol!!!11!
Nice to see that Matt Striker has introduced the word ‘pumpkin’ to his repertoire for the Autumn. How very seasonal of him. When I texted Strikey to tell him I wanted to be referred to as a large ground-fruit too, he replied with “No problem, Butternut Squash. See you Saturday for the staff meeting.” Swoon.
I’m skipping the Hornswoggle segment and jumping ahead to the match between Dolph Ziggler and Chris Masters. Errrrm, no, I’m skipping that too. If you think it ended with anything other than a Dolph win with Vickie happily digging her nails into his biceps….hi, you must be new.
Ta-daaaa!
Big Show won a handicap match against CM Punk and Luke Gallows when he stuck Gallows in a submission hold and forced him to tap. Punk was clearly pleased to be back to full health, as he jumped and kicked all over the shop. Sadly for him, his companion let him down and was put to sleep as punishment. WhatdidItellya? The SES is on its way out.

And then there was one.
I forgot to mention in previous recaps that MVP and Jack Swagger have been playing out a lacklustre, low-rent feud to fill in the gaps. This week, Jack Swagger had won the right to host his very own episode of MVP’s VIP Lounge. He brought his still wheelchair-bound father out as his guest and, well, you know it was only a matter of time before Ballin’ strutted out to put an end to it. He criticised Swagger for not knowing how to host a VIP party and snubbed his use of charity shop furniture and pleather chairs. Dude, that’s the same furniture you use in your show every week. Check yo’self!  This all ended in a brawl where Swagger Sr. was left with further injuries and the ring was trashed. Ah wrestling. The only place where a convicted felon can attack a war hero in a wheelchair and neck brace and still get cheered.
Gawd bless ya, wrestling
Now, we (mainly the Sidekick) have been bashed a few times on this blog for cracking easy Fatt Hardy jokes. Did we ever stop? Not really. But it seems the trend has gone full circle. Cody Rhodes delved into the greasy bag of Fatt jokes on Smackdown, meaning it’s pretty much over. It’s kind of like the cycle of a fashion trend. An avant garde designer starts a trend for, say, suede ankle boots with knee-high socks. MK Olsen and Alexa Chung start wearing them, Primark starts churning out copies for under a tenner…..by the time you see Amanda Holden, Claire Sweeney and former Big Brother contestants trotting about in them, it’s over. So goes the cycle of Fatt Hardy jokes. (PS—-> We’ll probably still make them. We’re not very fashionable.)
Cody made various hurtful jibes about Matt’s nose, useless facial hair and his spare tummy-tyre, forcing him to take a good look at himself in the mirror on Cody’s jacket. The tirade of abuse ended with “Do you even see Matt Hardy version one? No. All I see is Matt Hardy version DONE!” Ouch. So they had a match to decide whether Cody’s insults were justified or not and…. yeah, they were.
Pretty sure my mum’s got some safari themed hand-luggage to match those trousers.
That was the end of the wrestling for the night. Kane made a backstage speech about something or other, then he had a coffin brought out to the ring. He spoke again in the ring about more sinister and devilish matters.
“Humour meeeeeeee! This is my laaast main event runnnnnnn!”
The lights went down, thunder rolled, Taker’s music played and he appeared in a bejewelled hoodie at the top of the ramp. A slow walk and much growling later, the lights went down again, then came back up again, but Kane had disappeared. Taker gave the closed coffin a curious look and flung the lid open, bu Kane was not inside. He was under the ring setting up some pyro and a pre-recorded video of him doing a sinister laugh. Mwahaha indeed, Kane. Mwa-ha-ha!

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