What Hurts The Most

[BDC]

Thursday Night Overdrive.

Chaotic. That was about the only word that could have been used to describe what transpired before, during, and after the main event. The Red Shield Mafia battled against the Exchange Rate, and Level One got caught with his pants down – figuratively speaking anyway, giving Sally Talfourd some much needed momentum going into their big match at the Christmas Chaos PPV.

The crowd were on their feet, some cheering, some booing, some not knowing what the hell what to do either way. APW security tried their best to restore some order, but they were fighting a losing battle. BDC and Derek Wellings kept brawling right up the APW ramp, and right through to the locker room area. The battle raged back and forth, and the rampaging pair caused thousands of dollars worth of damage in the process. They didn't care though. Both men were battered and bleeding, but neither would back down. They couldn't.

They both needed to prove to the other that they were the better man, and by the looks of things, it was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.

Security managed to split them apart eventually. Wellings was dragged back to his changing room, and BDC back to his. Both men screamed venomous insults, still refusing to show any sign of weakness, but finally, that was the worst that they could muster. BDC went into his infamous rages in his changing room, smashing chairs, and breaking furniture. He tried to break down the door, but to no avail. President Jeff had turned up to assess the situation, and had ordered APW security to reverse a forklift truck up against each wrestler's dressing room door.

He eventually ran out of things to break, so his anger had slowly subsided. About half an hour or so had past, and there was a knock on the door. He got up, and walked towards it.

“Yeah?”, he asked.

“B, it's me, Jeff”, came the reply. “I've told security to move the forklift, so I was wondering if we could have a little chat.”

BDC sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so . . . I have to warn you though, it's a little messy in here.”

Jeff opened the door. He looked around, shook his head, and smiled. “You haven't changed, have you big man?”

BDC shrugged, shook Jeff's hand, and grabbed one of the cushions from a broken sofa, and sat down on it. He grabbed another one, and threw it at Jeff.

“Ah, thank you,” said Jeff, as he did the same.

“Ok,” said BDC. “You're here to tell me off for trashing yet another changing room, and for battering a few of your security guards. So, do I write a cheque out to APW as usual?”

“Yeah to the cheque please,” replied Jeff. “As for “telling you off” as you put it, would there be any point?”

BDC laughed out loud. He put his arms behind his head, and stretched out his legs. “Not really. How much do I owe anyway?”

“I haven't got a clue. I'll let the financial department sort that out, so expect a bill in the post,” replied Jeff.

Neither man spoke for a few minutes. Jeff just sat there, smiling, and seemed completely calm and relaxed. This bugged BDC. Jeff had never been the kind of man to rant and rave, but he'd always been strict and to the point.

“Erm,” asked BDC. “Look Jeff, it's good to see you and all, but I've got things to do, and if we're done here . . .”

“Oh yes, of course,” replied Jeff.

“So we're done then?” asked BDC. He started to get up, but was interrupted by Jeff.

“Not quite.”

BDC sighed, and sat down again. “Ok, spit it out then, I haven't got all night.”

“Well I won't keep you long B. Basically, I just want to, you know, see how things are going here in APW for you?”

BDC shook his head in mild shock. “Erm, Jeff, not being funny mate, but you could have phoned, texted, or even sent me an email asking this crap.”

“True, but seeing as how we're “mates” and all that, I thought it would be nice to have a chat face to face, just like the old days.”

He could have sworn that there was a hint of bitterness in the tone of Jeffs' voice. It threw him a little. He wasn't used to this kind of behaviour from Jeff, well, not for a long time anyway.

“Yeah, sure, sure.” He re-positioned himself on the cushion, and turned to face Jeff a little more. “So, you were saying, about the old days and stuff?”

Jeff chuckled. “Ah yes, so I was. But before I get around to that, how about you answer my question about how you're settling here in APW.”

“Erm, fair enough,” replied BDC. “Well, it's going good so far. I've worked hard, and people are starting to take notice of me again. I beat the crap out of Blade, and Mark Mania hasn't been the same since I kicked his ass. As for my first match, well, Wellings stole a cheap victory there. I saw it, you saw it, and the whole world saw it!"

“I don't know about that so much B,” replied Jeff. BDC was about to interrupt, but Jeff didn't give him the chance. “Now, before you start shouting, let me just finish by saying that all Wellings did was take advantage of the situation – something you've done over and over again. Remember what happened with Nunez and Lake that time?”

BDC tutted. “Yeah, ok, ok. I just, well, I fucking hate the guy mate.”

Jeff laughed out loud. “I know you do, why do you think I booked you both in a match at Christmas Chaos?”

“Because you hate Derek Wellings?” replied BDC. “You know I'm going to fuck him up at the PPV don't you? I can't believe I got screwed over by that son of a bitch again tonight!”

“What happens to Wellings isn't any of my concern – as long as it's during a sanctioned APW match. Our insurance covers that. If either of you got hurt tonight after the bell had rung, well that would have been a problem,” said Jeff. He paused a few moments. “Out of interest B, how do you work out that you were screwed over tonight?"

“It's pretty fucking obvious I'd say mate,” replied BDC. “The way I see it, if Wellings hadn't have stopped me getting back into the ring, I'd have got the pinfall, and I'd have won . . .”

“. . . You're team would have won,” interrupted Jeff.

“Oh that's just you being technical and shit, you know what I mean. Fact is, I'd have won my first main event for a very, very long time.” He paused for a short while. Jeff nodded his head in understanding. “Truth is Jeff,” said BDC. “It feels good to be a winner again. You knew me when I was at my best – hell, you and me were good friends back then.”

“And what about now B?” questioned Jeff.

“And now . . .”

Both men stared at each other, neither knowing what exactly to say.

“Look mate,” said BDC. “We've been through a lot over the years. You gave Retribution Inc. the final nudge in the right direction that it needed, and I won't lie, without you, I'd have never been the EWC champion. Also, if you hadn't have sorted that doc out so that I could get my leg sorted, well, I don't even want to go there really.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Jeff. “You needed help, so I helped. Besides, I “owe you” apparently, so I guess I didn't have a choice.”

Jeff smiled. It wasn't his “tv smile” though. It was the smile that Hurricane Jeff used when he was deadly serious. The smile that he used to use in his promos. The smile he used to use when he was beating the crap out of people.

“Oh shit,” thought BDC. He'd seen Jeff in action, and had fought alongside him time and time again. People tended to look at Jeff as a suit these days, and nothing more. BDC knew different though. He clicked his neck, and stared Jeff right in the eyes. If it was going to kick off, he was determined to give as good as he got.

“Listen Jeff, what happens between you and me in regard to our personal lives, well that's down to friendship. When it comes to wrestling, well, that's business, and it's as plain and as simple as that. In the real world, I owe you. In the wrestling world, you owe me, and you fucking well know that. You know what I did for you.”

Jeff stared at BDC, and for the briefest of moments, BDC was sure that it was about to kick off.

“If that's what you think Chris, then there's nothing much I can do about it.”

BDC relaxed slightly. As ready as he was to fight Jeff, he couldn't help but admit to himself that it would have killed him to do it. Jeff stood up, and motioned BDC to stay where he was.

“No no, need to get up. You've said what you had to say, and I respect you for that – as always. Just one last thing Chris . . .”

Jeff walked towards the door.

“ . . . I want you to understand something B. Things work differently here in APW. I run the show, and I don't take shit from anyone, not even you.”

BDC stood up, and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” replied Jeff. “You claim I owe you, and that's fine. You can keep reciting that tired old nonsense over and over again, because the fact is, I don't owe you shit! I gave you a job, and I took you on when no one else would. That makes us even, so for your own good, drop it, understand?”

BDC laughed out loud. “I guess the old days really are gone then, ey mate?”

Jeff nodded his head. “Yes, I guess they are.”

BDC stroked the stubble on his chin, and nodded his head slowly in acknowledgement.

“You take it easy Jeff. It's a shame bro, me and you, we could have rocked this joint.”

“I already do Chris,” replied Jeff.

“For now, yeah, I suppose you do kid.”

Jeff paused for a moment. He turned around, as if meaning to say something, but thought better of it, and started to leave.

“Oh Jeff,” said BDC just before Jeff left the room. “As for that thing, you know, that you owe me for . . .”

“You haven't listened to a single word I've said have you?” replied Jeff.

“Not really,” said BDC.

“Fine, go on then.”

“Well, it still stands mate. I'll be coming to you with a few ideas, and trust me, you'll listen, and you'll come through. You always have mate. Thing is, I know there's a dark side to you Jeff, and I'm going to make it my personal mission to bring it out to play. I want the world to see the REAL Hurricane Jeff. Oh, it's going to be fun!”

Jeff gritted his teeth and squeezed the doorknob tightly. “Whatever Chris, you keep believing that. All I'll say is, we'll see.”

“Yeah, we will.”

Jeff closed the door behind him, and walked off. BDC sat back down on the cushion.

“Well that went well,” he said aloud. “What an intriguing, and interesting night!”

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

I'm sitting here, thinking about the what ifs, and the why's and wherefores, and you know what, I still can't make head nor tail or anything!

Ok, that's a shitload of clichés, but hey, I'm an old man, so I'm allowed to use them . . . I was around when they were fist invented after all.

I jest, of course. I'm not that old, far from it. Wrestlers these days carry on wrestling well into their 50's, so, I've got plenty of time left.

Have I got what it takes anymore though, that's the big question on everyone's mind, right? Can I, BDC, the self proclaimed man, myth, and legend reach the dizzy heights of success that I once achieved?

The bookies have to say, “hell no”, and I can't say I blame them. When I was the main man before, I had Orsome, Fiennes, Broadway, Rose, Jeff, and Link watching my back. I had power, and I had the means to use it. Now, all I seem to be able to do is rely on myself, and so far, I've managed to just about hold my own.

I have 2 wins under my belt, one draw, and one loss. Not bad I suppose, but no where near good enough if I want to be the APW champion.

I have to start being the man again, and yes, it really is that fucking simple. Originally, I was a bit worried, but recent events have made things interesting again, to say the least.

You see, where I once was blind, now I see. I believed Jeff to be a lost cause. I thought he'd gone into the light, and couldn't be tempted away from paradise. After our most recent conversation, I'm not so sure. Hurricane Jeff came to me when I formed Retribution Incorporated, and he asked me to resurrect his flagging career. He told me that he would do whatever it took to get back to greatness again, and I helped him. Now before you all wet yourselves with elation at the thought that I just told you what it is exactly that he owes me for, well calm down, and go take a piss in the toilet, you filthy skanks. Like I've said, Jeff owes me, and he owes me big, and he fucking knows it. What it is he owes me for, well, you'll all find out eventually.

Fact is, Jeff has a dark side, and I plan on bringing it our for everyone to have a damn good gander at. Hurricane Jeff WILL once again stand by by my side, and when he does, check mate!

As for other goings on, well, last week, Link returned to APW.

Do I really have to say any more?

Will we reform RI? Will we form an alliance?

Well, to tell you the truth, I don't really know. Link is a fucking enigma, and he's almost as good at head games as I am. The man is dangerous, warped, and slightly unhinged – and they are his best traits! I'll be honest when I say that I don't relish the though of having to go to war with Link, so my plan is most definitely to reforge our old alliance.

If this should happen, Link and I, and, in time, Hurricane Jeff will rule APW with an iron fist. Level One is one of the most dangerous individuals on the planet, and yes, he's probably too much for me to deal with alone at the moment. If the darkness within Link and Jeff hear my calling, and if they see that their future is to be by my side, I personally guarantee that Lester Only will fall.

Talk is cheap, yes, I know, but you've all seen what happened before. You've seen what the darkness brings. Retribution is almost upon APW. It's closer than you all think.

You've been warned.

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

He paced back and forth, basking in the anticipation of his up and coming promo. He always felt a rush of elation when it was his turn to do so. Matches were won in the ring, that was the easy part in BDC's opinion. Luck could steal victory away from you at any given moment, so BDC made sure that he went into every match with every single advantage that he could muster beforehand. He had made grown men cry, simply be ripping them apart during a promo shoot, and he had made sure that his opponents were off balance and off their game.

“Ten minutes Mr Defoe” said a stagehand.

He nodded his head, and continued pacing back and forth. Memories of things he'd done and said flooded his brain, and he could literally feel the darkness from within himself boil to the surface. When he verbally attacked his opponents, he never held anything back, and always said exactly what needed to be said. He was the best in the world at trash talking. It was a dying art, he felt anyway, and he would always be proud of his skill with a microphone. He had trained many wrestlers, and one of the first lessons he taught was the effect mere words had on the opposition. Psychological warfare was a valuable weapon in every war, and here in APW, it was exactly the same.

Level One was probably considered the nastiest bastard to ever hold a microphone, well, since BDC retired anyway. BDC had taught him well, and he had been content to allow his apprentice to bask in his old glory, and to be the man to beat. Things were different now. BDC was back.

“Ok, 3, 2, 1 . . . . Action!”

The room was dark, and a single spotlight shone on BDC. He wore black leather trousers, black wrestling boots, and elbow pads. He wore a red t-shirt that had the words and logo “Retribution Incorporated” across the front. He paused for a short while, looked into the camera, and began.

BDC: What hurts the most? It's a simple question, but it's one that has so many different answers. For some people, it's the loss of a loved one, while for others, it could be the loss of their sanity. In regard to this profession, could one compare losing a title to being the thing that hurts the most, or, maybe it's being forced to retire well before your time?

Any one of those examples are enough to make even the strongest amongst us crumble and second guess our selves, and I stand here in front of you all, unashamed to admit that yes, I was broken.

You see, I had not one, but TWO titles ripped from my grasp. If I'd lost them fairly, I would have eventually got over it, but the thing that festers, and causes my blood to boil is that I never lost the fucking things! I was stripped of them due to the pencil pushers in management deciding that they needed new champion. You see, they threw their very best at me, in a pathetic attempt to get their titles back the old fashioned way, but that didn't work. I sent each and every one of them running back to them, with their fucking tails firmly tucked between their legs! I was unbeatable, and they couldn't handle it!

Time, after time, after fucking time, I am forced to sit back and allow people that have no right to be involved in my business, screw me over. That in itself is enough to break a man, but that was only the first step.

He looks down at the ground, and shakes his head in disgust.

BDC: Now don't worry, everything I've got to say fits in directly in regard to you Derek Wellings, so I want you to pay close attention. You have stolen something from me, but we'll get to that.

As you all know, I was forced into retirement well before my time. My body was broken, and I could barely stand anymore, let alone wrestle. Oh, I struggled on, of course I did, but I damaged my reputation almost to the point of no return. I lost match after match, and my name was nothing but a fucking mockery. I wasn't even a shadow of my former self. I was a joke, and I am man enough to admit that now. I got fat, lazy, and was content to be a nobody. I thought that my name would live on forever, but guess what, it didn't. It's easy to forget about a man when he can no longer batter you within an inch of your life.

Wellings, you have attempted to make a mockery of my legacy. You have tried belittling me in front of the world with your pathetic attempt at humour, but it's all for nothing kiddo. I've faced the best in the world, and not one of them have been the same again when facing me on my best day. I have hit rock bottom, and it was the combination of the entire wrestling universe, wrestlers and fans alike that caused me to fall.

You are one man Wellings, one small and insignificant man. How can you hope to do alone what it took a small army of people to do? You are delusional son, but that's ok, people like you always are.

He takes a few steps. It's obvious that the room is empty.

BDC: As for the loss of a loved one, well, the entire world know what happened to Karl. He was ripped from my life well before his time, and I'll never really get over it. I'm better now, and I'm slowly coming round to the fact that he's gone, but hey, who ever gets over the loss of a brother, right?

Me and Karl, wow, we did it all! He was my rock, my inspiration, my everything. He kept me sane . . . . Without him, man, who knows what would have happened to me?

Ok, sure, he didn't agree with everything that I did, but he still supported me. I think I miss that the most. Having someone still stand by your side, even though they know that you're wrong . . .

Anyway, I'm not going to stand here and wallow in self pitty. Karl has gone.

Where do you fit in here Wellings? How can I bring your name up in regard to the loss of my brother? Well, it's quite simple really. You see Derek, I promised Karl that I'd rebuild my career, and that I'd fight tooth and nail to regain my former glory. All you had to do, you selfish fuck, was to lay on your back, and allow me to get the pinfall during our first match! Was that so much to ask of you? Of all of the supposed sacrifices that you've made for your country, why couldn't you make just one more? No one would have thought any worse of you Wellings. Ok, ok, you had illusions of going future matches still undefeated. I bet you even thought that going into your match against Level One that you'd actually come away undefeated. I kind of get that fantasy sequence that must have gone on in your head, but seriously, there was no way in hell that you were leaving that match as the winner. You lucked out against me, but lightening never strikes twice kid.

Like I said, you lucked out against me, pure and simple. I went on record and stated that you could not defeat me in a one on one match, and I plan on backing up that claim at Christmas Chaos!

He starts pacing again. He clicks his neck a few times, and grits his teeth. You can cut the tension in the air with a knife.

BDC: Ah, my sanity. It's fair to say that it's always been questioned. I mean, there have been times when I thought I was possessed, involved in supernatural shenanigans, a part of a musical, hell, I've even thought I was involved with the cast of Sesame Street . . . good times!

That being said, as insane as I've always seemed, I've still always been able to perform and defend my titles. Ok, I ended up having a nervous breakdown and being carted off to the nuthouse, but hey, who's perfect right?

The way I see things Wellings, insane, sane, it's all just a matter of perspective. Some people may argue that we're all fucking insane to do what we do for a living, while others may claim that getting up at 6am every morning and slogging your guts out in a job you fucking hate day in and day out is insane. What do I think? Well, I'm a squirrel, so what do I know?

I'm joking, of course.

I'm on medication now, so I'm as sane as someone like me could be, and that's the end of it. I've heard you question my sanity Wellings, and I've seen you attempt to make a big joke about it. Well kid, you go ahead and do what you have to do. Joke around, piss about, and have a good old laugh, because come the PPV, that'll all end, trust me.

You see Wellings, I have you all worked out. You are a coward kid, nothing more, and nothing less. You sit back, and hide in the shadows, always refusing flat out to put yourself in any sort of danger whatsoever. You wait until the last possible second to shoot your promos, week in and week out, just so that you can react to what your opponent has said, because you haven't got the mental capability to come up with anything original or inspiring. You are afraid of everything, and to be honest, you fucking disgust me. You're not a man Wellings. You're a poor excuse of a human being, and you're a prime example of why the world look at you fucking Americans with nothing but hatred and contempt.

You claim you joined the military straight out of college, and that you went on to earn countless medals. Well, if that's true, and if I'm going to be honest, I seriously have to doubt anything that comes out of your cowardly fucking mouth, then good for you kid. You've achieved some gold in your life. If I were you, and I get on my knees and pray to the man in the clouds day and thank him that I'm fucking not, I'd sit at home all day, touching those precious medals, and be content with what you've got, because if I have my way, you won't be touching any new gold anytime soon!

You and me both know that the winner of our match gets a serious push at one of the APW titles. Don't get your hopes up kid, because there's no way in fucking hell that I'm going to allow you to win.

Like I said earlier, from the day you joined this company, you've done nothing but make jokes about me, or talked about things you have no right talking about.

In the first promo you shot against me, you asked me for your respect, and you even had the audacity to compare yourself to me. Derek, who the fuck do you think you are? Tell me kid, what have you done in this industry exactly? Who have you beaten? No one! Do you hear me, NO ONE!

I keep spouting the same shit over and over again, but you know what, in this instance it's justified. I have faced the best. Like it or not, the EWC was THE place to be! It had the best talent the world had to offer, and APW will ALWAYS be a poor mans EWC. Jeff will hate me for saying that, but you know what, fuck him, fuck you, and fuck APW!

It's about god damned time that I started letting loose on you rookies, and stopped holding back. Level One keeps spouting on about how I've lost it, well you know what, he fucking wishes. Level One, you have a pretty mouth on you these days, and you tell a pretty story, but let me tell you here and now, you will NEVER be as good as me. You've built quite a little legacy for yourself, but who cares? Just like APW is a poor mans EWC, you are now, and will forever be a poor mans BDC, do you understand me punk?

He starts nodding his head. It's as if something has finally clicked in his head. He looks more confident, and there's what can only be described as an aura emanating from him. The camera crew are a bit taken aback.

BDC: Wellings, I am more focused than ever! So let's get a few things straight, shall we?

You spout on about being proud to be American, and that you're “100% Grade A American Steel”. Well Derek, that's like being compared to “Best looking pig” at a farmers convention. I mean, sure, it's an honour of a sort, and it's something to be proud of, I guess, but that's about as far as it goes. It's one thing to be a proud American, it's a completely different kettle of fish to be proud to know an American. Your people, your military, your values – everything that your country stands for is looked at with hatred and, well, pitty by the rest of the world. America is a fucking joke Wellings.

Let's look at your people shall we.

Americans are the most racist people on the planet, yet they are have the most mixed races. White hate the black, black hate the white, Hispanics hate everyone, and the fucking ironic thing is, you're all interbred anyway, so you can't hate each other that much, otherwise there wouldn't be enough time to fuck your relatives would there! You are all so close minded, so short sighted to what the rest of the world sees. It baffles me how you ever became a so called super power, it really does!

You guys hate change, my god do you hate it! You are all content to live in your little superiority bubbles, and you like to remain ignorant, pretending that change never happens. You condemn everything and everyone that you don't understand, and you wage war on anyone that doesn't agree with you.

As for your military, oh my fucking god, where do I start?

Tell me Wellings, were you trained specifically to shoot your own allies during basic training, or was it genuinely an accident when your military buddies killed the fuck out of some Brits a few years ago? We were allies for fuck sake! I mean, how hard is it to work out that the enemy are the guys that are shooting at you and trying to blow you the fuck up, you stupid sacks of shit!

Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with the fact that British troops are involved at all. You guys want the oil, so more power to you. If your boys want to blindly follow orders and believe that you're out there to stop the war on terror, as opposed to the fact that it's all about oil, oil, and more oil then that's your call. And besides, I'm Welsh. I don't class myself as British, never have, and never will – plus, I now live in Canada, so that's another fuck you America!

He walks off camera, and comes back with an American flag, some lighter fluid, and a lighter. He drops the flag on the floor, douses it in lighter fluid, and sets it alight. He then flops his cock out, and pisses all over the burning flag.

BDC: That's what I think of you and your fucking people! A few weeks ago, I heard you recite the “Soldier's Creed”. What a load of fucking shit!

“I AM AN AMERICAN SOLDIER”

I think I just covered that part . . .

“I AM A WARRIOR AND MEMBER OF A TEAM”

So was Tommy, the White Ranger from the Power Rangers. Still didn't make him any less of a complete cunt did it.

“I SERVE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATE AND LIVE THE ARMY VALUES”

What an honour that must be! I'll have to remember that when I'm serving your wife a portion of my cock rocket while you're in traction in hospital. By living the army values, do you mean you'll gladly kill anyone that you regard as an ally, and go through life as a self righteous, over rated piece of shit?

“I WILL ALWAYS PLACE THE MISSION FIRST”

Erm, so why did you retire then? Surely your mission was to help rape Iran out of all it's oil, so what you doing wrestling boy?

“I WILL NEVER ACCEPT DEFEAT”

Cough, Vietnam, cough . . . And more recently, Level One. Erm, what happened there kid?

“I WILL NEVER QUIT”

We'll see at the PPV

“I WILL NEVER LEAVE A FALLEN COMRADE”

Now, forgive me if I'm wrong, but didn't you leave Sally Talfourd to the mercy of Level One on Overdrive last week? You promised to aid her, but you were more concerned with trying to earn some glory by taking me out of action. Wow, well played sir! You are in inspiration to one and all!

“I AM DISCIPLINED, PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY TOUGH, TRAINED AND PROFICIENT IN MY WARRIOR TASKS AND DRILLS. I ALWAYS MAINTAIN MY WEAPONS, MY EQUIPMENT AND MYSELF”

Too . . . many . . . gay . . . jokes . . . Now I could go down that road, but that would make this look like a Derek Wellings promo. You see Wellings, that's all you talk about is how your opponents are gay, and that they dress in a gay way, and blah, blah, fucking, blah, so I completely and utterly refuse to sink to your levels. I could, but then what would you have to say?

“I AM AN EXPERT AND I AM PROFESSIONAL”

So is the girl down at the local STD clinic. I shit you not, my brother Jasper popped in there the other day because he head some sort of fungi on his old boy, and fair play to her, she sorted him out good and proper.

“I STAND READY TO DEPLOY, ENGAGE AND DESTROY THE ENEMIES OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN CLOSE COMBAT”

I'm sure you are Derek my friend! Tell me though, is that before or after you hide in your bedroom, waiting until the very last second to respond, just incase they, you know, blow you away with their wit, charm, and overwhelming awesomeness? Wow, it must be a really sad and unfullfilling life you lead kid. I suppose you could like, I don't know, catch up on the latest series of “Lost” or something like that? By the time you get there it'll be too late anyway.

“I AM A GUARDIAN OF FREEDOM AND THE AMERICAN WAY OF LIFE”

And that's something to be proud of? Really? Is maintaining the American way a good thing to be the guardian of? Personally, I'd just let them get on with it, but if that's what you're into, more power to you I suppose.

“I AM AN AMERICAN SOLDIER”

Or, you're just a cunt.

Some of the camera crew have walked off in disgust. The remaining crew are Canadian, and they simply laugh, and continue filming.

BDC: Do you remember asking me to look back seventy odd years to when Hitler and the German war machine tried taking over the world? Do you remember telling me that the only reason Britain stayed free was because of America? Do you remember when you ranted at me about the courage of soldiers on the front line?

Well Wellings, how about this to think about. Do you know that the German tanks and vehicles during World War 2 were run with a special kind of oil that you could only get from an AMERICAN company? Explain that, I fucking dare you.

You and your warmongering little buddies were on the front line because you fucking CHOSE to be on the front line. YOU decided to join the army! YOU decided to defend your country. YOU did that Wellings, so don't you fucking dare have the audacity to act as if you were hard done by or anything.

I fought my own personal war. I stopped my brother getting killed on the streets. I didn't have the luxury of being offered a fucking choice to walk that path. It wasn't pretty, but I did what I had to do!

During another promo of yours, you decided to start questioning my sanity, and took offence to the fact that I said you were kicked out, as opposed to retired from the military. First off, yes, I'm crazy. Yes I'm all warped, and yes, I'm fucked up. All that means is that you should be absolutely shitting your pants, because I am hell bent on tearing you apart at Christmas Chaos. As for the mix up, does it really matter one way or another? Are you in the army anymore? No, you chickened out and let your country down, so move on, and forget about it.

You then went on about the fact that me and my wife are ugly, and that I'm bisexual . . . what are you, 12? To me, my wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. Even if she was a hippo in everyone else's eyes – and she isn't by the way, it wouldn't matter, because I love her. As for me being bisexual, well I plan on ramming something up your ass at the PPV, but I was thinking more along the lines of a chair or something. Does that make me bisexual? If so, I can live with that.

Ok, calling you 12 was wrong of me. After you're “Just For Men” nonsense, and comments about my teeth, I'd say you're more 6, maybe 7 mentally. Derek, this isn't kindergarten mate. This is pro wrestling, and people get hurt. I've hit you with fact, after fact, after fact. You've hit me with pathetic and unoriginal, ahem, “jokes”, about the British culture. Wellings, I'm WELSH!!!! It's like me calling you French, get it? And yes, ok, I've taken the piss out of you being American, but at least what I said was entertaining, and will hurt and offend you more than you'll ever admit.

You're welcome.

Holy shit biscuit, I forgot that he actually went there and took the piss out of my name! Oh no, what ever will I do? How will I ever get over such a burn?

Wellings, you are a pathetic piece of shit. I've smelled more interesting farts than you. You are an embarrassment to our profession, and I am going to make it my personal mission to take you out of action sooner, rather than later. I fucking hate you Derek. I hate you to my very core. Normally I'd ignore fuckwads like you, but I just can't, not after all of the shit you keep saying.

Derek, NOT ONE SINGLE WORD YOU'VE SAID has offended me, or worried me, or made me even take any notice of you in a positive way. I'm almost lost for words as to how badly I want to rip your throat out and feed it to the birds.

Wellings, you can't beat me, I won't allow it. You don't belong in this industry, and I'll tell you why by telling the world EXACTLY what to expect from you promo.

Derek Wellings will spout on about me being gay, bisexual, and having a silly name.

Derek Wellings will then proceed to come up with many unoriginal and uninspiring different ways to say my “silly name, for example, “Big Dumb Chris” - genius!

Derek Wellings will go on about how great America is, and spout on about how they saved Britain during the war, and how they have the best everything, and how they dominate in every single thing on the planet, even rugby and football - or soccer as he'll call it, even though Wales beat them every time they play – and that's saying something, because Wales are shite!

Derek Wellings will call me old, broken down, insane, British, and then call me successful and a legend, even though he doesn't think I am, and blah, blah, blah.

Derek Wellings will have some elaborate and over the top scene where he and his friends talk about things he thinks are funny, completely oblivious to the fact that watching his promos have raised the suicide rate amongst intelligent human beings by 35%.

That kind of sums up a Derek Wellings promo, so there's no need to to acknowledge the fact that he's even alive ever again, and for that my friends, you are most welcome!

Derek Wellings, you've turned a few heads since joining APW, so congratulations on that. Trust me though, that is the most accolades you'll ever receive while I have anything to do with it. Come Christmas Chaos, I will prove to the world that I am indeed back to my very best, and that I am a force to be reckoned with here in APW.

I am putting you all on notice. Do you hear me Sally? Do you hear me Lester?

I will be the APW Champion in 2011.

I asked earlier “what hurts the most”?

To me, it's not being the best anymore. There's your answer.

For you all though, the answer has got to be, “BDC is back, and more dangerous than ever.

Wellings, see you soon.

APW . . .

Just wait and see

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