Post by Johnny "True Brit" Brown on Oct 16, 2011 10:01:36 GMT -4
Over and over I watch it.
But the ending the sick, gut-wrenching stomach turning ending is always the same.
I start on her arse, legs are a waist of time, they are only good to be wrapped around my back, and she could probably crush me spine.
Her arse is firm, likely unused; if you know what I mean.
A small triangular sweat patch has formed in the small of her back, even that is hot.
She turns effortlessly, gliding like the Queen she claims to be.
Sweet camel-toe, no Ga-Ga bulge there.
My eyes slide up along her hips and waist, bypassing the so flat is could be iron stomach to her uh- does this have to be PG-rated?
Well I wouldn’t call them jugs, but they’re definitely more than fried eggs… um let’s just say they’re a handful, anymore is a waste.
Ta-Ta’s checked (no nippleage unfortunately) we move up to her shoulders, she has shoulders of… of… a Russian farmer, it really take the lead out of my balloon, my member is falling, definitely at half mast.
Quick move on find something to get the blood flowing in the right direction, move upwards to her…
… chin. Damn girl is your dad Bruce Forsyth or Jimmy Hill? Quick get away from it… no no we have reached a fully flaccid state.
Her lips are like a sore gash, thin and purple, her bony-ass checks and boss-eyes don’t help.
Oh Kate why are you such a butter-face.
Did your parents put yer trampoline too close to the ugly tree?
Did you chase parked cars as a child?
Yeah it’s childish to go this route but so what?
The thing is you have disrespected me, you’ve disrespected my title?
I don’t hang my career on trophies and awards, but I do respect history. I respect the history of APW and the men and women who have shed blood, sweat and tears for the championships here. You disrespect my title then claim I’m sacrilegious to put myself on the level of Kash and his ilk, who did I win the Tap-Out belt from again? The aforementioned Jason Kash.
Now I’ll be the first to admit that the Tap-Out title isn’t considered the big belt in this company but you need to take a moment to think…. To win this championship you need to make you opponent quit, say uncle, concede that you are the better man; or in your case better she-male.
This isn’t a three second pinfall, anyone can steal one of those, this is tapping out. You don’t only win the match you take your opponents pride, their honour.
I didn’t tap to your retard friend with benefits, he won by DQ, the ref was paid off by Reggie, they wanted to build intrigue for our One Night in Hell title match so they gifted him a match with me.
Reggie knew he isn’t in my league, but me squashing him in seconds wouldn’t have helped the buy rate so they make sure I don’t win, ignoring him giving up, forcing me to break… ANYTHING they could do to prolong the bout.
They know that both of the San Diego Seagulls are a nice little tag team that can pop the crowd with cool submissions and Jappy style moves, and that’s it. They are not star material; they are certainly not MEGAstar material.
I cut through this place like a hot knife through butter enroute to gold, now in the past I have likened titles belts to little more than extra luggage, something to simply make my backpack heavier as I roll in me Triumph by the highways and bi-ways.
But when you have the gold in your hands everything changes, like a pirate who has discovered that elusive treasure a gold glow overwhelms you, yer dreams have been realised…
Ha ha ha, who the hell am I kidding?!
History of the belt… all those that have gone before me… OK so I exaggerated a bit, but the facts remain this 10 pounds of gold has MY name on it now, it will have my name on it as we walk to the ring in the Tokyo Dome and it will STILL have my name on it after the match when I line up the Geisha girls and eat them up like sushi.
Will my arrogance be my undoing? You cite attitude problems as one of my weaknesses? I don’t have a problem with my attitude; it’s you who have a problem with my attitude. I’m bloody good and I know it, should I be ashamed of my obvious talent?
Nope, just like yer not ashamed of your obvious disfigurement. We can celebrate our differences, me with my Cool Britishness and you with your mono-brow and overbite.
Thinking about ya confusing woman talk about darkness and light and tunnels and crap, I’m sure it made sense to you but reading between the lines I’m pretty certain yer asking me to plow ya?
I’m flattered, maybe even a little intrigued, we’ve all seen One Night in China but none of us have seen a real she-nis; but sorry Katiebear you’re gonna have to stick to root vegetables and the occasional bumping of uglies with Scripps. No matter how many cardio-shattering beers I quaff there’s no way I’m boning you out.
Urgggh seriously just the thought of your skank rotten cod smell on me flagpole makes me retch.
What I do find interesting is when you claim my ‘pathetic comments’ about hurting you are no more than a show, a mask to hide behind even, then you repeat the same. If either of us needed a mask; it's you Freak-face. Damn I love name calling, cos I’m so good at it, talking trash is just my way.
I don’t need to resort to over-used and factually incorrect stereotypes about poor teeth and obsessing over Ebirah AGAIN.
What happened between you two? I’ve got it he stole your mask; you used to hide yer mutant-looks.
P’haps you need to get it back and learn what dark gimmick 101 really is, cos if you think that’s me than you’re more deluded then Chuckie when he says that he beat me. I beat myself, an act I’m sure Charles in Charge repeats over your used panties most evenings.
If you think me biting a chomp outta Scripps hooter with me ‘yellow crooked teeth’ was uncalled for just wait until we rock the Big Egg. Those rice-munchers are gonna run like one of those giant manga monsters were heading their way.
P’haps I’ve hit on something, it that why yer still back home in San Dulleigo cos the Japanese tourist board are worried that the site of your grim visage will send the locals running in terror? Ha ha, yeah I’m really overdoing the Kate is ugly thing, just like your vapid promo about me talking big.
That’s all you really had to say. You even admitted that yerself.
It’s a sad, sad day when Charlie “Recycled cardboard is infinitely more interesting than me” Scripps is the most charismatic member of yer team.
You try you really do, Hellraiser- Easter Bunny good attempt, but it didn’t work, all it did was to make me want to shave a rabbit and stick nails in its head in a cute pastiche that I could probably sell for a lot of money to one of Tokyo’s weirder collectors, they buy anything here; except the fact that a chick is going to beat me.
That’s probably the one good thing about this hole of a country, the women know their place. The stand quietly while they men do as they please, with that in mind the first thing I’m gonna do during our match is to shut yer mouth.
Bang my left is gonna smack her yapping mouth shut; the annoying little bitch will be silenced. I’ll show ya that Great Britain is the birthplace of shooting. You relay to heavily on yer LeBell lock or Royal Butterfly, if you don’t get it yer lost.
Ya see sweetcheeks I have more moves in my arsenal than you could ever know, the difference is I don’t need to show them to the world during me promos; it’s a pretty crappy general that tells his enemy where his forces are. You simply know what I allow you to know.
You’ve seen me kick and stomp the $hit outta my opponents so far in APW, I haven’t needed to show me chain-wrestling godliness. I’ll wrap ya up like a present at Christmas, ‘cept of a glossy ribbon yer arms an’ legs will form the bow topping it off.
Stage 1 of me plan is complete, an’ maybe I have allowed myself to become complacent an’ rest on me laurels. Rico Casteel for all of his muscles and back stage stroke isn’t in my league when I’m fully on me game. The history books may say otherwise as it is he who has the W in the win column. While I have a big fat L.
Our clash will be the first of many as we battle over the big prize, but for you Kitty Kat, you will never get any higher than you are now. This is it for you, an’ ya aint even got any looks to fall back on.
No gold…
No future…
No chance in hell.
Go try for the tag title, JK is flying solo so p’haps you and Mr. Yawn can combine to do what I did by myself and beat Jason Kash for a championship.
The some of the parts have to be better than the parts themselves, surely… cos frankly the parts themselves aint up to snuff.
You are little more than gym rats, who work out like crazy and talk a fair to good game. You don’t have the explosiveness, the personality, the package needed to be main event talent.
After One Night in Hell you can join Chaz back in the openers, staring the ceiling just like ya did when yer were paying for yer training.
I truly hope yer hear this and it motivates ya to excel beyond my expectations, I want you to surprise me by putting in a career performance, cos when I take the best yer have and still beat yer…
… yer dream world will be shattered. You will have an epiphany and see clearly for the first time, that both of the SDS even at their peak are not up to the task.
You, just like APW and the rest of America; need to British to show you the way things are done. My nation are the real world leaders, while it's you Americans that use bragging and bluster to claim the top spot.
If the fans in the Tokyo Dome wanna cheer you despite the fact you have threatened to kill them all by burning the place down that’s fine by me. I don’t need them, you or anyone else to validate my greatness.
I’m Johnny Brown and I’m an arrogant arse, but I’m an arrogant arse that’s gonna kick yer feckin’ head in.
Typically that would be a bad thing, but in yer case it’ll be a favour.
So do yerself a favour Whoreton don’t tap to quick I’ll give yer a Croydon facelift before I make yer quit.
Hurry up an’ get to Japan cos I’m dying ta make yer Go Home!
But the ending the sick, gut-wrenching stomach turning ending is always the same.
I start on her arse, legs are a waist of time, they are only good to be wrapped around my back, and she could probably crush me spine.
Her arse is firm, likely unused; if you know what I mean.
A small triangular sweat patch has formed in the small of her back, even that is hot.
She turns effortlessly, gliding like the Queen she claims to be.
Sweet camel-toe, no Ga-Ga bulge there.
My eyes slide up along her hips and waist, bypassing the so flat is could be iron stomach to her uh- does this have to be PG-rated?
Well I wouldn’t call them jugs, but they’re definitely more than fried eggs… um let’s just say they’re a handful, anymore is a waste.
Ta-Ta’s checked (no nippleage unfortunately) we move up to her shoulders, she has shoulders of… of… a Russian farmer, it really take the lead out of my balloon, my member is falling, definitely at half mast.
Quick move on find something to get the blood flowing in the right direction, move upwards to her…
… chin. Damn girl is your dad Bruce Forsyth or Jimmy Hill? Quick get away from it… no no we have reached a fully flaccid state.
Her lips are like a sore gash, thin and purple, her bony-ass checks and boss-eyes don’t help.
Oh Kate why are you such a butter-face.
Did your parents put yer trampoline too close to the ugly tree?
Did you chase parked cars as a child?
Yeah it’s childish to go this route but so what?
The thing is you have disrespected me, you’ve disrespected my title?
I don’t hang my career on trophies and awards, but I do respect history. I respect the history of APW and the men and women who have shed blood, sweat and tears for the championships here. You disrespect my title then claim I’m sacrilegious to put myself on the level of Kash and his ilk, who did I win the Tap-Out belt from again? The aforementioned Jason Kash.
Now I’ll be the first to admit that the Tap-Out title isn’t considered the big belt in this company but you need to take a moment to think…. To win this championship you need to make you opponent quit, say uncle, concede that you are the better man; or in your case better she-male.
This isn’t a three second pinfall, anyone can steal one of those, this is tapping out. You don’t only win the match you take your opponents pride, their honour.
I didn’t tap to your retard friend with benefits, he won by DQ, the ref was paid off by Reggie, they wanted to build intrigue for our One Night in Hell title match so they gifted him a match with me.
Reggie knew he isn’t in my league, but me squashing him in seconds wouldn’t have helped the buy rate so they make sure I don’t win, ignoring him giving up, forcing me to break… ANYTHING they could do to prolong the bout.
They know that both of the San Diego Seagulls are a nice little tag team that can pop the crowd with cool submissions and Jappy style moves, and that’s it. They are not star material; they are certainly not MEGAstar material.
I cut through this place like a hot knife through butter enroute to gold, now in the past I have likened titles belts to little more than extra luggage, something to simply make my backpack heavier as I roll in me Triumph by the highways and bi-ways.
But when you have the gold in your hands everything changes, like a pirate who has discovered that elusive treasure a gold glow overwhelms you, yer dreams have been realised…
Ha ha ha, who the hell am I kidding?!
History of the belt… all those that have gone before me… OK so I exaggerated a bit, but the facts remain this 10 pounds of gold has MY name on it now, it will have my name on it as we walk to the ring in the Tokyo Dome and it will STILL have my name on it after the match when I line up the Geisha girls and eat them up like sushi.
Will my arrogance be my undoing? You cite attitude problems as one of my weaknesses? I don’t have a problem with my attitude; it’s you who have a problem with my attitude. I’m bloody good and I know it, should I be ashamed of my obvious talent?
Nope, just like yer not ashamed of your obvious disfigurement. We can celebrate our differences, me with my Cool Britishness and you with your mono-brow and overbite.
Thinking about ya confusing woman talk about darkness and light and tunnels and crap, I’m sure it made sense to you but reading between the lines I’m pretty certain yer asking me to plow ya?
I’m flattered, maybe even a little intrigued, we’ve all seen One Night in China but none of us have seen a real she-nis; but sorry Katiebear you’re gonna have to stick to root vegetables and the occasional bumping of uglies with Scripps. No matter how many cardio-shattering beers I quaff there’s no way I’m boning you out.
Urgggh seriously just the thought of your skank rotten cod smell on me flagpole makes me retch.
What I do find interesting is when you claim my ‘pathetic comments’ about hurting you are no more than a show, a mask to hide behind even, then you repeat the same. If either of us needed a mask; it's you Freak-face. Damn I love name calling, cos I’m so good at it, talking trash is just my way.
I don’t need to resort to over-used and factually incorrect stereotypes about poor teeth and obsessing over Ebirah AGAIN.
What happened between you two? I’ve got it he stole your mask; you used to hide yer mutant-looks.
P’haps you need to get it back and learn what dark gimmick 101 really is, cos if you think that’s me than you’re more deluded then Chuckie when he says that he beat me. I beat myself, an act I’m sure Charles in Charge repeats over your used panties most evenings.
If you think me biting a chomp outta Scripps hooter with me ‘yellow crooked teeth’ was uncalled for just wait until we rock the Big Egg. Those rice-munchers are gonna run like one of those giant manga monsters were heading their way.
P’haps I’ve hit on something, it that why yer still back home in San Dulleigo cos the Japanese tourist board are worried that the site of your grim visage will send the locals running in terror? Ha ha, yeah I’m really overdoing the Kate is ugly thing, just like your vapid promo about me talking big.
That’s all you really had to say. You even admitted that yerself.
It’s a sad, sad day when Charlie “Recycled cardboard is infinitely more interesting than me” Scripps is the most charismatic member of yer team.
You try you really do, Hellraiser- Easter Bunny good attempt, but it didn’t work, all it did was to make me want to shave a rabbit and stick nails in its head in a cute pastiche that I could probably sell for a lot of money to one of Tokyo’s weirder collectors, they buy anything here; except the fact that a chick is going to beat me.
That’s probably the one good thing about this hole of a country, the women know their place. The stand quietly while they men do as they please, with that in mind the first thing I’m gonna do during our match is to shut yer mouth.
Bang my left is gonna smack her yapping mouth shut; the annoying little bitch will be silenced. I’ll show ya that Great Britain is the birthplace of shooting. You relay to heavily on yer LeBell lock or Royal Butterfly, if you don’t get it yer lost.
Ya see sweetcheeks I have more moves in my arsenal than you could ever know, the difference is I don’t need to show them to the world during me promos; it’s a pretty crappy general that tells his enemy where his forces are. You simply know what I allow you to know.
You’ve seen me kick and stomp the $hit outta my opponents so far in APW, I haven’t needed to show me chain-wrestling godliness. I’ll wrap ya up like a present at Christmas, ‘cept of a glossy ribbon yer arms an’ legs will form the bow topping it off.
Stage 1 of me plan is complete, an’ maybe I have allowed myself to become complacent an’ rest on me laurels. Rico Casteel for all of his muscles and back stage stroke isn’t in my league when I’m fully on me game. The history books may say otherwise as it is he who has the W in the win column. While I have a big fat L.
Our clash will be the first of many as we battle over the big prize, but for you Kitty Kat, you will never get any higher than you are now. This is it for you, an’ ya aint even got any looks to fall back on.
No gold…
No future…
No chance in hell.
Go try for the tag title, JK is flying solo so p’haps you and Mr. Yawn can combine to do what I did by myself and beat Jason Kash for a championship.
The some of the parts have to be better than the parts themselves, surely… cos frankly the parts themselves aint up to snuff.
You are little more than gym rats, who work out like crazy and talk a fair to good game. You don’t have the explosiveness, the personality, the package needed to be main event talent.
After One Night in Hell you can join Chaz back in the openers, staring the ceiling just like ya did when yer were paying for yer training.
I truly hope yer hear this and it motivates ya to excel beyond my expectations, I want you to surprise me by putting in a career performance, cos when I take the best yer have and still beat yer…
… yer dream world will be shattered. You will have an epiphany and see clearly for the first time, that both of the SDS even at their peak are not up to the task.
You, just like APW and the rest of America; need to British to show you the way things are done. My nation are the real world leaders, while it's you Americans that use bragging and bluster to claim the top spot.
If the fans in the Tokyo Dome wanna cheer you despite the fact you have threatened to kill them all by burning the place down that’s fine by me. I don’t need them, you or anyone else to validate my greatness.
I’m Johnny Brown and I’m an arrogant arse, but I’m an arrogant arse that’s gonna kick yer feckin’ head in.
Typically that would be a bad thing, but in yer case it’ll be a favour.
So do yerself a favour Whoreton don’t tap to quick I’ll give yer a Croydon facelift before I make yer quit.
Hurry up an’ get to Japan cos I’m dying ta make yer Go Home!
