[I clearly can't keep this 12 hour thing going, you should totally have won this. I sat here thinking I had 24 hours to respond. I'll respond, but consider it won.]

"I don't think you get it. It's not that I'm shitting on the title, its a beautiful piece of gold. It adorns my waist better than your mothers thighs and brings me much joy to hold up. It simply... Is an easy title to lose, one that is ripped away so quickly from your hands. 6 x Federweight champion doesn't mean shit when you can achieve that across two weeks. So, impact? Go fuck yourself. Super Mario had a shit ton of title runs too, didn't think they meant shit.

Now if your pale-white ass is going to boast about being the longest reigning federweight champion, maybe that might hold an inch or two against me but that's not true now is it? I fight, I bleed, I ache for my victories. What do you do, flaunt your 80's hippy hair and run your mouth for yours?

You sicken me, you two-bit child, you don't even deserve to put wrestler in that resume, let alone Champion. Go find a crack whore to stick something up your butt, stroke your ego whilst she strokes her strap. This, is not going to be the place you come for any respect."

The English cops come, swarming Danny Imperial and catching him by surprise. The smell of stale tea and the sight of crooked teeth overwhelm him. He gags, he wrestches, he gets taken to the mat and passes out for the three count.

[awaits management for the 3!]