hell in a cell: suspense? what’s that?

Remember when I skipped recapping Breaking Point because I ran out of time and people got upset with me for ignoring the opportunity to salivate over the Cena/Orton gay-fest? And remember when I said everything would be ok because there was another pay per view coming along in a couple of weeks? Yeah. I’d give anything to go back and recap Breaking Point and skip this one instead. Alas, I cannot. So I’ll make the best of it.

When I was in high school I dabbled with the idea of being a script writer for TV. That dream was never realised. But I do have several books on script structure and narrative.  They all speak of suspense. Narratives which gradually build to an exciting  and surprising conclusion to keep the viewers guessing and watching for as long as possible. The most interesting stuff happens at the end. Hardly rocket science. Just common sense really.

For this PPV, the people in suits must have sat around the boardroom table and thought “Hey, you know what would be totally awesome? If we put all the matches in to a lottery machine and stacked the card in whichever order they come out, regardless of how important or interesting they are!” Alfred Hitchcock must be spinning in his grave. But I’m sure he never cared about professional wrestling, so I’ll jump straight into the match that should have been on last but was actually on first, CM Punk vs The Undertaker. Oh, and since there was quite a bit of trunkular activity during this event, consider this post to be your latest instalment of Crotch Watch. Two for One.

As matches go it wasn’t bad. And it was made 100% better by the fact that Punk made the decision to wear his lavender trunks again.


On Sunday morning, when I was wondering which trunks Punk would wear at the PPV (for real) I thought to myself ‘he’ll never wear the lavender again. They’re just too feminine.’ I’m very pleased I was wrong. Although, the illusion that the only thing he wears is those skimpy pants was smashed to pieces when I realised he had a second pair under the lavender.


The other unfortunate event was that The Undertaker won. I suppose it was inevitable considering the terrible injustice he suffered at Breaking Point, but I would have liked the story to continue a little longer.


John Morrison was up next against Dolph Ziggler for the Intercontinental Championship. This week, Marie Claire magazine’s Twitter feed alerted me to a fashion feature on their website entitled How to Wear Leopard Print. These were their suggestions:


Doesn’t Dolph look fierce? I like how it started with the fingerless gloves. Then progressed to the waistcoat at Breaking Point, only to complete the ensemble at HiaC with the trunks. You can’t just slap people round the face with animal print. It needs to be introduced gradually. I also enjoyed JR and Todd Grisham discussing which particular animal skin Ziggler had encased his junk in. It’s quite clearly snow leopard, guys.

The match itself was actually rather enjoyable, but there seemed to be long periods where it went totally flat. Unlike Ziggler’s hair-do. I don’t know if there was something in the New Jersey air, but it seemed to become increasingly fluffy as the match went on. Taking the Siegfreid and Roy look a little too far indeed, Mr. Ross.


Morrison won the match and made it 2/2 for Team Face.

It’s tag-team time and Josh Matthews was primed and ready to welcome Rey Mysterio back after his 30 days of writing out ‘I will always remember to bring my prescriptions to school’ over and over again. But Batista was so excited to have his bestest pal back, he insisted on doing the introductions himself.


Now, you may have missed it, but this event was sponsored by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles video game. Just in case you don’t know what they look like, they showed up at the PPV to have a dance in the crowd.


My favourite was always Michelangelo. He was the goofy, funny one. He appealed to my sense of humour. Which, remarkably, has changed very little since I was a small child.

From there we moved back to the Raw brand where Alicia Fox was trying to dethrone Mickie James as Diva’s Champion. I won’t lie, this match was slow. Apart from Mickie’s bedazzled purple bra-top and when she almost ripped Alicia’s head off when she pinned her for the win, kind of a dud. Maybe all those people who said Alicia Fox wasn’t ready for a PPV slot were right. I stand corrected.


When Rey Mysterio came out for his tag match with Batista against JeriShow, the atmosphere was so frosty, I filed the whole encounter under ‘forgettable’ before it even got started. Obviously a very unforgiving bunch of people in Newark. But Rey got by with a little help from his friends and all of a sudden the audience were begging the little guy for make-up sex. Once that was done, Big Show swatted Mysterio like a fly as he jumped from the top rope, pinning him to keep the tag titles with JeriShow.


I believe that's called taking one for the team. Poor Rey.

So, because the running order is all screwed up, the other main event was up next, even though we hadn’t yet seen the US Title match, the DX and Legacy match or Drew McIntyre vs R-Truth. Suspense ahoy! The cell was back down and we prepared ourselves for THE match of the night. Right? WRONG! Even I, who always finds joy in the bromantic love between John and Randy, started rolling my eyes and wondering when the match was actually going to get started. Or end. Either would have done. Their cell scrambling on Raw the previous week was more exciting.

Just three weeks after winning the title at Breaking Point, John Cena dropped it back to Randy Orton. Then this happened………



This nonsense was followed by R-Truth vs Drew McIntyre, which was exciting to me because it was the first time McIntyre completed a match. CROTCH WATCH ALERT! There are many ways to publicly display your pride in where you come from. Drew McIntyre demonstrated his by wrapping his kneecaps and hips in  diamond encrusted Scottish flags. I loves ya a little more every week.


Unfortunately, it was a Friday night match sneaked into a PPV through the back door. Jim Ross said that Drew “may be the greatest superstar from Scotland to ever be in the WWE.” Oh relax, smarks. Piper’s Canadian.

At this point I started rubbing my temples the fight off the tension headache I was developing in anticipation of writing this recap. But The Narrative Gods suddenly smiled upon me and took us to the locker room. Thank you. Randy was looking sad. But why?


Ted and Cody joined Randy and tried to cheer him up. Cody suggested that once the show was over they should all put their affliction t-shirts on and head out on the town. Lock up your daughters, fathers of Newark. But Randy wasn’t in the mood for a pub crawl and suggested that they might not feel like a party after they experience The Cell for the first time. Ted assured Randy that they would walk away victorious and full of energy. Cody wasn’t pleased with his snake-like mentor and suggested that his grumpy behaviour reminded him of his DAD!


Next, The Miz, Jack Swagger and Kofi Kingston were going at it. My Dad happened to arrive just as The Miz was sauntering down the ramp and instead of turning the TV off to chat with my father, I made him watch wrestling instead. I know how he hates it so. The conversation started like this.

DAD:  Oh God, who’s THIS?

ME: The Miz

DAD: What a stupid name. How did he come up with that?

ME: His name is Mike Mizanin.

DAD: I see. Has he got ‘AWESOME’ written on his willy?

ME: Yes. Because he claims to be awesome.

DAD: Has he even got a penis?

My Dad raises a good point. Maybe Miz had some extra tight trunks on that night. Or maybe he’s a lady. I’m sure it’s just an optical illusion like when everyone thought they saw Fergie readjusting her package.


I can’t tell you much about this match. I spent most of the time trying to explain to my Dad how a triple threat match works and why it would not be advisable for Kofi to allow one of the other two to pin each other so he only had one left to beat. Thankfully for Kofi, he didn’t take my Dad’s advice and managed to retain the title.


My Dad was bored so I agreed to turn it off for a while. By the time he left it was time for DX vs Legacy and, shock of all horrors, I actually enjoyed it. I like to think Vince McMahon was backstage screaming that it was up to them to save the show. There were high-jumps and lock-outs, there were chair shots, there was a sledgehammer and there was an appearance from CM Punk’s patented chair necklace.


When DX won I actually cheered. The only genuine squeal of excitement I let out through the entire show. I hope this recap wasn’t as painful to read as it was to write. If so, I’ll do better next time.