- Event: Chaos 042
Look, man…I’m not a fucking wrestler.
I’m a fucking Soldier.
I think I’ve made that pretty clear over the years.
Xander Azula knows this, and that’s why that bitch is scared.
What I don’t understand is why you … a supposed man … would ever think it was a good idea to step foot into a wrestling ring with me. You were not ready for HOW and it’s more obvious than the fact that Jace Parker Davidson is a closetted power bottom.
Fuck off, Jace…its true and everyone knows it.
Wrestling in HOW isn’t like wrestling in any other company.
We’re all tough.
We’re all grisled.
We’re all killers.
You sir, are none of those things.
When you’re in between the ropes and the bell rings, it’s not about how cute your hair is, how much fan fare you get or what color your fuckin’ fruit cake robe is. It’s about going to fucking war and winning…something that you limey, British fucks have no business even thinking about.
Drink some fuckin’ tea and exit stage left.
I don’t get it, man. Maybe I missed the hype train…but what’s so special about this pasty fuck? Everyone’s running around this goddamn place with a wrestling boner for this fuckin’ guy and I can’t even begin to understand why. Everywhere I go these days it’s like someone is trying to sell this British fuck as the second coming of Mike Best, but the only thing I see is a carbon copy of every single wrestler that has ever come out of the UK, right down to the phoney-as-fuck lineage and the word vomit from a thesaurus.
I say lots of big fancy words to mask the fact that I’m a giant fucking pussy.
When your biggest bragging point is that you’re somehow related to William the Bastard, you need to take a long hard look in the mirror and really think hard about your career and life decisions. When you have to reach ALL the way back to the year 1000 to find a British badass, it’s pretty clear that you people – yes, I said you people – are not as tough and gritty as you make yourselves out to be.
If I needed to make up a bullshit story about being related to a badass American, I wouldn’t need to go back 15 fuckin’ generations to do it. In fact, even if I exclude myself, I could find five American badasses on the HOW roster that would put any Englishmen from this or any generation to shame.
You’re a fraud, bro. We all know it, I’m just the only one that’s got the fuckin’ balls say it. The only thing you’re famous for is looking like Bobby Dean skipped his second helping of Oreos with a Mountain Dew chaser.
As a pro wrestler, it literally took you 25 fuckin’ years to get signed by HOW. It took you 25 fuckin’ years to even be on the radar of the biggest and most successful wrestling promotion of all time to even look in your direction and suddenly…you think you can swim with sharks?
Get the fuck outta’ here.
You’re a second rate wrestler who doesn’t belong here, so just fuckin’ kick rocks already, you overrated pussy. Pull a fuckin’ Max Kael and just die…but don’t come back to life in some second rate wrestling company…stay dead. Or just fuck off to a library with your midwitted, wanna-be scholar, parents, you fuckin’ NERD. I don’t give a fuck which one you choose, just please choose one…and do it now.