"Union Jack-Off"





-Monday, March, 13 2017, IN-FLIGHT TO ZAGREB-


20 hours plus was the ETA provided to arrive in Zagreb with two stop overs en route. _20 fucking hours_. Fuck ME that's a stretch.

Wouldn't have been so bad had I double checked the XWF show schedule and hopped the flight I'd planned on Friday morning, avoiding the skirmish at the Alliant Credit Union in Los Angeles with no less than 7 bank robbers. My life had been preserved by my tag partner, the superhero Trax, in the process but now I had the possible promise of being investigated by the feds hanging over my head in combination with the knowledge that I'd be competing against current Hart Champion gender-bender Barbara Bourbon and his former Uni champ partner in the dummy Brummie boy-beefeater Scully scant days before defending my Television Title for the sixth time, now against the deepfried deadbeat dad Muddy Waters, at Savage in Oakland, CA.

I'd spent the first two hours of the flight attempting to fit in with my rostermates in the official XWF talent Skype chats but ended up bowing out in embarrassment.

'Why do you keep trying?'

I...don't fuckin' know.

'Get it through your thick head, Jimbo; the XWF is chock full of the most gifted minds and weirdest wackos in the business but you...you're too stupid and absolutely abnormal. You'll never 'fit in' with these people, you'll never be seen as a friend, you'll never be a fully embraced member of the family. You alienate everyone simply by opening your mouth. You're a demented douchebag. You may love them but they don't love _you_. You're socially awkward. You make others uncomfortable. You're the dude at the party hollerin' out what he thinks is hilarious, interesting or response worthy only to inspire crickets and looks of disdain. Professionally you may be a respected double champion and Star of the Month but personally you're still a loser, you always will be and everyone knows it. Accept it, get over it. Why do you think Rob never really liked you?'

An hour of self-loathing later I'd signed on to the official XWF site and noticed Scully had finally deemed it appropriate to release a promo. A welcome detour from my issues.

'Gung ho, that bird. Must be one HELLUVA promo.'

I set my phone on the seatback tray and view................
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I wake up an hour later, confused.

What the... What the fuck happened?

'YAAAAAWN. You conked out, champ. Give it another go.'

I do...
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Another three hours later I stir from slumber, seething.

God_dammit_...

'Third time's a charm.'

Again, I restart...
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I catch myself this time, forcing my eyes open so as to finish the viddy.
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I manage to make it through to the promo's conclusion. However, the insane level of half-assery still has me half-awake so I decide to pay a visit to the lavatory.

Splashing frigid water from the cold tap upon my face, chasing away the nappies, I return to my seat and prep my phone for a response.

.........................................

"You know...a little birdie told me not to overlook your skill, Scully. In the ring? Sure. In promo? Unbefuckinglievable, you're a joke. That had to be the worst promo I've seen since signing on with the XWF. You're about to step into the ring with Bourbon, Trax and Caedus in the semi finals of Lethal Lottery IV and _that's_ how you proceed? You just did more damage for your team than the rapeage I reamed Robbie with. Why are you here? I'm sorry, lemme rephrase. HOW are you here? How did you ever beat Vincent Lane? How did you ever win the Uni Title? How are you considered legend status in the XWF? I don't see it. Any of it. You are without a doubt THE most over-hyped hack in this promotion and it kills me that Rob, as much as I hate the prick, has to rely on YOU. He deserves more out of a partner. Trax and I, we deserve more from an opponent. Don't let us all get in the way of your retirement , just get it over with and move the fuck on if you can't be bothered to take this shit seriously. Kick fuckin' rocks, redcoat. Beat it, Brit. Dawdle in front of a double-decker and die, dickhead.

A 'twelve fingered cunt' am I? Learn to set up your immaculate insults, idiot. Fuck is that supposed to imply, inbreeding? That line of thinking suits me as much as applying the label 'high school graduate' to Muddy, 'fit-as-a-fiddle' to Fat Burger Bourbon or 'talented' to a twit like you. I'm afraid you live up to the only three subjects that come to mind with a name like Scully: urban slang, Special Agent and Gene. A blowjob, a bitch and a dead body. Trifecta twatage. You call yourself class? What, special ed? You call yourself the Don? Scully if you're the Don then I'm the disgruntled and cocky capo about to riddle your remedial ass in the Rolls in public. Strike a posthumous pose, punk, the paps wanna shot o' that shit before the real thing in the ring.

Skull shyster, do you know who the fuck I am beyond being the XWF TV champ and man who defeated your former partner? You refer to the fans as if I give a shit. I have no fans Scully, ain't no one cheerin' my cheeky ass and I'm less entertaining 'em than pissin' 'em off on a weekly basis. Ain't no one pullin' for me to beat your ass to marmalade, they're callin' for my uncrownin' just like you. Unfortunately, I don't give a shit about that either and I'll be disappointin' the lot o' ya for quite awhile to come continuing in the _immediate_ future in Croatia with kickin' you in the colon and infectin' you with foot-in-ass disease.

'What am I gonna do about my hatred for you' Scully? Well, gee, I suppose I'll keep on with the quotable cranium crushin' before movin' on to your massacre in Zagreb. Trax ain't just whistlin' Dixie, he nailed you with his run-down and that's a fact. I respect what you've inexplicably pulled off in the XWF but you ain't no threat to he and I, you're a threat to Robbie's advancement. Period. And for the record, tea sucks. Liquified fuckin' hay suitable only for horses and a horse's ass like you. Try Dodgin' THAT Jammie, jag-off. Gimme bottled water or a fuckin' beer...and not that warm horsepiss you limeys love. American domestic like a motherfuckin' frosty Bud, Coors or a Miller. Fuckin' take a Redd's Apple Ale over the bile your country serves fresh from the taint tap.

Speaking of your country...Scully-" I sigh in sincere exasperation. "-my home state alone is larger than your entire island, who the fuck but the British want or care to know the array of specific regional dialects and accents of England? They're all _pretentious_, not 'posh' ya , regardless if you caught your error but still didn't care enough about your own image to edit that footage out or not. The crappiest corners of your United Cuckdom still resound with the Britboard Number One Single, 'Oi, Least Ways We Ain't Yanks' by Fishwrap Freddy and the Feminine Five. That's where the word pretentious comes into play with your accents; it bleeds through and stains my country with the spite you ALL share for it, hyperbole be damned. 'Posh'...yeah, that reminds me, thanks for the Spice Girls too, cocksucker. Fuck you and Jolly Olde Engerland.

And you know what, Skull Scheisse? Fuck the high desert too. This is what I'm talking about; you say _I_ don't research about your meaningless badge of Brummie-Bum-Bum but you come at me insulting the shittiest, dustiest, sandy butthole in the entire USA that I was trapped in like you're tryin' to tap out already. Everyone who knows me knows I hate the high desert. Everyone who knows OF the high desert hates the high desert. Everyone IN the high desert hates the high desert with a select few fuckin' farmer dunces as an exception. You thought I cared? Dude...you're gonna think I'm rushin' in for a hug and not a cage-crackin' Wrexus-Plexus on Warfare if you truly are THAT deaf and blind. I love that you researched the high desert enough to see the city names like Victorville, Apple Valley and I'm guessing Oro Grande yet by the time you got to the camera you got one outta three correct. 'Apple Town'? 'Orangeington'? Fuck is that? You can't remember more than one thing clearly at a time? Stop smokin' so much weed, Anthony, or I'll show you what one-hitter-quitter means in the ring. Oh, FYI, Victorville and every city in the high desert is very much representative of 'a dump', despite you trying to make a misinformed point. One big collective dump like a single day's worth of Bob and Blue's leavings on every AM-after-fast-food-night. What's up with you cutting on the dipshit reviewer who can't spell or form cogent sentences by the way? Noooo Scully, don't insult the _reviewer_!! Tooooo sooooon!! Oh, wait, _I_ know...you can hear how ineffectual you sound against ME so you wanted to look good by comparison to whomever doofus left those comments. Gotcha. Quick thinkin' there, queer.

I can and will negatively judge you however I see fit, you butthurt lil' baby. Fuck you gonna do about it? You're 6'1 225. A _slim_ 6'1 225. I'm a wrecking ball at 5'9 230. I'll knock your crooked crumpet crunchers straight again. I'll flatten that fuckin' nose and have you mouth breathin' all over Britain. I'll break your neck with Katabasis and end your life, never mind your career. You're swift, so am I. You ain't dancin' around me, you ain't overpowerin' me and you sure as hell ain't intimidating me. Whatcha got left? Dirty tactics? You're lookin' at the filthy fucker who had the fans chantin' 'buuuullshit' in dispatching Reverend Mudskipper on Anarchy. The Shameful Deadline Bomber. Lord High Duke of Douchebaggery from the High Dumbass Desert. Jim. Fucking. Caedus. The people hate me but they love watchin' me work. It's my honor to be entering into combat with as legendary and decorated an XWF vet such as you but it's my pleasure to introduce you to the living legend in linguistic laceration. Will I predict victory over your team? No...but it's looking pretty damn good from the perspective of Trax and Caedus. Will I claim I'll pin you? Well, in light of the previous rhetorical, no, but you better believe that's exactly what I'll be aiming for, even if the Traxster and I have to ravage through Robbie to do it. Will I deny you AND Robbie will be bringing your A game to Zagreb and giving my tag partner and I a four ace flagellation? Nope...but neither will I deny we'll be droppin' our own royal flush reckoning in return. Fuck cards. I'm not playing games, I'm livin' reality, Scully. Robbie shoulda warned you about me but as we all know he only looks out for himself and his peanut gallery of NPC slaves. Now you've got my attention as much as that Hot Tub Sized Manthing beside you and...Scully...you don't WANT my attention. I'll rip out your spine with your skully attached and walk it like one of those invisible dogs on a leash. I'll play Mark David Chapman to your John Lennon. I'll utterly destroy you, legend status and all, in round 3 and I WILL 'offer you respect when it's over' you arrogant little Union Jack-Off. Fuck your tough talk. I'm Jim Caedus...and something tells me you won't be so ignorant in context to my name once we've concluded our face to face on Wednesday. They'll be spreadin' your ashes over the Thames. Oh and...Happy Campin' Colossal Bob, manwich of the people."
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I stop recording and tuck my phone safely away in my right side pocket. I accept a bottled water in rejection of alcohol and take a long swig. I recline my seat, ease back and shut my eyes. Hours to go before the first stop.

My phone vibrates a notification. I sigh, retrieve it and check. A second promo by Scully. Unlike the first, I see some of the talent I'd heard of and find myself nodding in respect.

Ok, so he's not ALL bad. I'm still gonna fry his bangers.

TBC