The only noteworthy thing that has been thrown at men since I came back is this imaginary spear created by Dylan George that I simply repeat myself.

It's the same weapon that Pest picked from the floor last week and yet again it's been deflected but the truth though is that I am prone to repeating myself. I said I would walk out victorious in week one of my re-arrival to the XWF and I did. I also said I'd be the one with their hand held high in week and I fulfilled that promise as well. So yeah, I do repeat every damn week that I'm going to step between the ropes and walk away with a victory but backing it up gives me legitimacy.

You disagree? Just look at how easily Pest was swept aside last week despite frothing at the mouth with a pledge that he would be the man to take me down. Pest is a man that carries perverse pride, despite the fact that he abuses children, so it's unlikely we'll hear him admit that Karl Cross got under his skin last week. You can all trust me though when I say that I did and that is what makes me just oh so good. I took a man that plummeted over the edge in to mental insanity many years ago and I dragged him in to a new depth of crazy. I'll take every piece of shrapnel from each of the bombs any of you dare sling in my direction and use them to excruciatingly pry off your fingernails.

I've had enough time to look around now. I've done enough analysis to now know who can at least threaten to knock me off of my high horse and who is guaranteed to be trampled all over. On one hand, there is enough there to impress even Karl Cross in the likes of Vinnie Lane and Doctor D'Ville. On the other you have morbidly obese petulant children like Peter Gilmour who is too bloody stupid to know where his own limits lie. It tickles me watching him attempting to out stretch his own reach and make a claim for the X-Treme Championship. Obviously hasn't had the time, or is quite frankly too much of a dumbass, to contemplate that winning that belt means that he would ultimately find himself in the ring with me.

This week though I go up against Anonymous and Aerial Knight and quite frankly I have no idea who any of these people are. I uncharacteristically decided I would resist the urge to speak first and allow any one of those two unlucky bastards to get in the first few jabs. Sadly I've waited longer than my ego can allow and find myself here again firing the first shots so I ask you both:

Why the silence?

I suppose it's an occupational hazard in this line of work that occasionally I'll be booked up against people that would rather keep their heads down engage me. Due to the fact that I am not a mediocre cretin like I suspect you two to be, I empathise with you feeling too afraid to address me but I find myself unable to fully understand it. Why become a professional wrestler when your skills appear to be hiding from the big kids and wetting your little panties?

Okay, I don't want to come across at too hard so here is what we will do. I will go right ahead and assume that the reason you're not willing to step out of the shadows thus far is because you're shy. I totally get that! It must be daunting for minnows like you two to swim in the shadow of a prize swordfish like Karl Cross.

One minute you're bottom feeding from the chum that's sunk to the bottom of the sea, occasionally being allowed a nibble at a golden line somewhere near the top. The next your summoned by King Neptune himself and told you're going to be part of a magnificent shimmering shoal. The sole purpose of your new role is to help showcase the greatest specimen even to swim his way in to the same waters. You're worried you might flounder, that you might drown under the weight of this momentous responsibility that has been washed your way.

You question whether this is too much of an ask for you. You don't want to carp on about beating Karl Cross when you know in your hearts that you're simply not capable of making waves. Let me assure you that everything is going to be okay, guys. You may never be a shark but you have to learn to take pride in your position within the ocean ecosystem. Without eating plankton like you, giant blue whales like Karl Cross would be unable to grow any bigger.

It's not even as if you have to be worried about putting on a lacklustre match. Let me just assure you that you don't even have to put any more effort in to the match on Monday than you have in to cutting promos so far. Karl Cross is a generous man and he'll carry you both to a passable match which will prevent your career from being completely sundered by your lack of interest.

If any of you do feel like having a change of heart however just some words of advice. I wouldn't want you to become discouraged, as the little verbal duel before a match is my favourite part, but there will be only one outcome on Monday. No matter what you choice may be, if you speak or your don't, I'll make and then fulfil the same prophecy I have over the last fortnight. Your threats will be shown to be hollow and your arsenal empty as I press down on to one of your shattered rib cages and watch as the ref makes a one count and then throws out the match.

Why a one count? The result is just so damn inevitable he won't want to waste any more of his time.

I am Karl Cross. I am better than you.