Molly: "Me name’s Molly Barnes, and I am bloody annoyed!"

We find Molly, down a few cans of Carling, outside her favourite Tesco Metro. She throws a few crumbs of leftover crumpet to some nearby pigeons and shakes her head.

Molly: "Just me bloody luck, innit?  About to be on top of the world, and then that ruddy cavelad snatches me dream away from me so quickly you’d think he was Margaret Thatcher and me winning the Anarchy title was a bloody carton of milk. Still, only meself to blame I suppose, and it’s a sign that I can win that belt if I keep me chin up, keep me nose pointed in the right direction, and… well, not lose to bloody Mastermind next Anarchy for starters.

That’d be a right laugh, now wouldn’t it? I’m not saying me track record’s clean and spotless but Mastermind just might be known as the biggest perpetual loser in the company’s history. He’s a warning what happens to ya if your walk can’t back up your talk. After a while, people just stop taking you seriously. I’d hate for that to happen to me."

Molly crushes the now empty can of Carling in her hand and throws it at the nearest bin. She misses by a few yards.

Molly: "Fuck me. Don’t worry, lads, I’ll pick that up later, or I’ll have the Extinction Rebellion knocking on me flat’s door demanding to know why I’m killing turtles for fun. They have more important stuff they ought to be doing, I’m sure. Same goes for Jolly Roger, who seems to be more focused on doing Joseph Gordon-Levitt in than he is on havin’ a wrestle. EDWARD called me unfocused, but blimey… Roger’s got me beat in that department, or I’m a monkey’s uncle.

Don’t get me wrong. Bloody love Roger, me. He seems like an alrite sort the like of which the world has never seen the like of which. In fact, I solemnly promise that if I do come across his arch-nemesis I’ll give him a proper ‘eckle, Salford style. Not that I expect him to show up here any time soon, but with all this travelling I’m doing for this job, you never know where you’ll find yourself."

Molly pats the pockets of her coat, only to find them…

Molly: "Bloody empty. Ah well, off to the pub then in a bit, I suppose. Still, there’s plenty of stuff to be happy about as well, in spite of me losing me shot at the Anarchy title. For starters, Salford City FC kicking Leeds’ fookin’ arse and dropped ‘em out of the Cup! How ‘bout that, eh? Nearly pissed meself during that penalty shootout, but ti’s a sign that good things can happen to those who wait. Speaking of which, Nadine Dorries FINALLY did what she promised months ago, and FUCKED OFF! That alone is reason to celebrate ‘cause in the long list of supreme cunts like Thatcher the Milk Snatcher, Liz Truss, Theresa May and many others, she might still reign bloody supreme, and that’s saying something. Ryght Honourable TWAT!

…sorry, sorry, losing focus again, here I go off talking about politics once more. …true though, innit?

So yeah, there’s plenty to be happy about, and plenty to look forward to. I might’ve lost to EDWARD, but if he thinks he’s rid of me for good, then he’s even dumber than he looks. I know he’ll be there for me to knock him off his bloody perch a while longer – I know he’s gunning for Ruby’s record, if he doesn’t already have it, but I’m gonna keep coming for ‘im or anyone holding that strap. Those at the top should never get comfortable kicking down, nor should they ever stop being challenged. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe EDWARD’s a bloody authoritarian or supremacist. I mean, I don’t think he’d vote Tory, is what I’m saying, so I suppose he’s alrite in the end. But when he opened his gob about me, he was also bang out of order and I won’t forget that so easily.

But I know how it goes. I know the queue ends right behind me after I got me shot. So Roger, mate, I’d rather go and have a pint with ya, or have a bit of a wrestle under more friendly circumstances, or spend some time with ya in a submarine, but I’m afraid I’ll have to knock your block off and take you to the fuckin’ cleaners. As for Mastermind, we all know what he is. But we also know what he isn’t. And that’s a winner. No matter how many yes-men he surrounds himself with to artificially prop him up so he can look like more of a threat, the fact remains that he hasn’t mastered a mind in ages. Probably need a new t-shirt, mate. Maybe one that says ‘I was once relevant’, or ‘I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore so I’m just wasting everybody’s time’. Should probably get that last one in small print… But either of them would be more accurate than the other one.

Anyway, I’m about ready to go. Flight’s tomorrow, and we’re wrestling in a place that sounds like a used tampon. I don’t think I’ve ever been to Louisiana before, but I hear it’s pretty horrible, even by Southern US standards. Of course, most of the States are horrible, especially the red ones. And Louisiana’s pretty dark red from what I hear. Should probably wear a bulletproof vest if I’m over there and have to pop over to the supermarket. Anyway, lads, I’m off a for a pint and piece of cod in the pub. Pretty sure they don’t have proper fish and chips where I’m going. Mastermind and Roger, see you over there! A Barnestormer’s coming your way."

Molly goes over to pick up the empty can and puts it back in her pocket for proper recycling later.