Floyd the Butcher

Bloody Right! Already being shown the proper respect here that other places failed to show. AXW Xperience Championship. The gate way championship to becoming AXW Champion! And all I have to do is smash that little twat waffle Everett Andrews? Brilliant. I was going to do that for free anyways! Now not only will I break him, not only will I introduce him to British Strong Style, but I will be rewarded with a Championship for doing so! Take a good long hard look in the mirror sunshine, cause the Butchers in, and that ring is my playground!

Listen close, ya little shite stained cunt. This ain’t the playground and I’m not a child. You and ya mo-leaster moustashios are gunna the shite slapped outta ya! And that’s me putting it lightly. I’m gunna rearrange ya shite face. Break ya because I can.

You have no idea twat. You’re clueless. Just remember that you brought this fight to your doorstep. When the announcers cringe at the sheer level of what they call brutality that I inflict on you, just know that it’s isnt me taking things too far. Because, I get nothing but pure satisfaction over hurting little mouthy cunts like you. AXW is going to be the Butcher’s Shop. And there ain’t a man with the stones big enough to stop me.

Say it agin! Say midnight calling one more time you daft twat. I dare you. Because originally I was just going to snap ONE of your fingers as a souvenir of this match and a life lesson of why you don’t fuck with your superiors. But now...? Now I want so much more. I want to Euro Uppercut your stupid head clear off your shoulders. I want to target and destroy your knee so permanently that you can never use that stupid finisher and I never have to hear you say it again.

You think I’m playing. You think you know me. You don’t know shite. You’ve watched PWR and you think you have me figured out. Sunshine, I am Brittan’s Best kept secret. And you are nothing more than the example I am going to make in AXW.

This is the Xperience Championship. EXperience. Something you lack completely rook. And on #AXW75 you will be the first Victim of the Butcher.

You haven’t seen shite you wee twat. But you will.
I am going to thoroughly enjoy myself as I dissect you digit by digit. And boot scrape that idiotic pedo mustachios off your face. You are going to be the first victim of many, of the Butcher of AXW

Listen Twat, I don't give two shites about what you have up your sleeve, though I'm willing to wager its candy from your van.
When we dance lad, you are going to finally. understand just what the Butcher is all about. And you will not walk away unscathed. I will leave my mark. And I will raise that championship over my big bald beautiful head.

Let’s call a spade a spade rook. You are green as grass. You are a garbage backyard wrestler that’s never been off Long Island. I am Brittans Best Kept Secret. My business is hurting people. And I take great pride in my work. I can bring you to your knees by your pinky. The world of hurt you are in for will be like non you have ever experienced. And I will break you for the fun of it all. That championship will be my trophy for the time I took a loud mouthed yank and made him my bitch.

Believe me yank, that mic is going to find its way up your arse. Lesson One: Don’t hunt what you can’t kill.

*Footage Courtesy of British Fire Pro Wrestling, December 8 2018*

(The footage comes to life with generic rock music playing and the robust ring announcer/promoter, one mister Waldo Stannard announcing the entrance of Willow Gill, the young man set for competition here tonight. Gill, not much of a man to look at; think Colin Delaney with that greasy ass long stringy hair, makes his entrance and sheepishly stretches on the ropes. Stannard goes on to introduce FLOYD, the Butcher of British Wrestling; who makes his entrance to no music, but only the roar of the crowd, and a “Floyd’s gonna Kill you” chant; further intimidating poor Gill. Parting the curtain, Floyd walks through rubbing chalk dust in his hands, stomps the ring with a mean mug, gets onto the apron, wipes his feet and enters the ring, moving straight across it towards Gill, having to be restrained by referee Humbert Hewitt. Floyd smirks at Gill’s clear intimidation, before turning to the fans and throwing up a raised right index finger and a loud OI!; which is returned from his fans.)



With the bell rung, it doesn’t take Floyd long to completely overwhelm Gill with a rush of palm strikes, slaps and a vicious European uppercut, before absolutely laying waste to Gill in the corner with an elbow flurry before referee Hewitt intervenes and Floyd boots Gill clear from the ring as the crowd cheers the intimidating display.



Holding his hands up in submission to the referee, it didn’t last long as he rolled from the ring, rushed around the ring post and took Gills head off with a stiff lariat!



He moved over to the ring announcers chair and swiped his microphone before Stannard could object.



“OI! Where’s the Self-Wanker Of AXW at?”



Which causes a Big Roar from the crowd.



“Pay attention powder puff, cause this is your future!”



Tossing the microphone, Floyd booted Gill hard in the gut, hoisted him up press-style and dropped him face first on the ring apron to a groan from the crowd!



Tossing him back into the ring, a Release Butterfly Suplex was followed by a Leg Hook Saito Suplex depositing Gill directly on his head as ref Hewitt checked on Gill to make sure he was still alive! A loud “MOVE TWAT” got Hewitt out of the way for Floyd to apply a Mexican Surfboard Leg Lock. Slowly followed by the Butcher applying a finger spreader manipulation as Gill screamed in pain, then finished with a snap of the fingers and a simultaneous double Mexican Stretch Leg Stomp!



The crowd groaned in pain as a crying Gill tried to crawl away but a boot stomp to his hands had him crying out in pain even louder.



Grabbing him up by the greasy hair, Floyd tossed Gill into the corner and worn him out with European Uppercuts and pulled him out into a shortarm pop-up European Uppercut, before throwing both arms into the air as the crowd roared in appreciation.



Turning back, Floyd cracked his neck in both directions, and stalked Gill as he pulled himself up in the corner. Floyd looked to move in, but Gill quickly turned and fired off a stinging knife edge chop cracking off Floyd’s chest!



But it quickly became clear that Floyd absorbed the shot, galaring and death glared Gill, who apologized and begged off Floyd, to no avail, as the Butcher of Brittan quickly took Gill down with a Shihonage, and applied a thumb lock, quickly forcing a submission out of Gill as the crowd roared, coming to their feet.



Announced the winner, Floyd was more concerned with securing the mic.



“Are you watching Yank? That’s what your future holds for you!”



-before spiking the microphone and throwing his arm into the air with a raised right index finger and a loud OI! As his fans return the gesture, as the footage fades.

You sir, are an idget. No one calls you the Self-Supremacy. YOU call yourself that. It’s literally in the name, you twat. You want a name we call you? How’s about the Self-Wanker? I know I know, a little spot on the nose, but it suits.

Oh sonny jim, I will for certain 'catapult' (work on your Queens you wank) your career after this, without a doubt. Because you will be forever known as the FIRST twat to scream for his life at the hands of the BUTCHER of AXW. This isn't about a title. This is about making an impact. A lasting legacy. One that will not soon be forgotten. And in the end.. you will scream for me. Just like everyone else.

No. What you need is an act of god himself. Baring the building collapsing upon me, and crushing me dead, nothing will stop me from adding you as victim #1 to my Hall of Pain. You will Scream for me Yank.

You best go invest in a pair of titanium knee pads then lad, cause that's the ONLY WAY you would have a shot at knocking this Butcher out! But we shall see this bloody Saturday, in fucking Florida of all places, won't we? We'll see just how far you can bend and what I can break before you SCREAM FOR ME. And it will be music to my ears.

(Immediately following AXW 75, the Alternative cameras catch up with Floyd the Butcher, fresh off his match with Everett. Despite his loss, Floyd seems to have a smile plastered across his grizzled features.)

Cameras: Mr. Butcher! Mr. Butcher! Can we get a word?

Floyd the Butcher: Alright Lads, I’m feeling generous, you got one question..

Cameras: Sir, despite arguably putting on a wrestling clinic and what some are calling the match of the night, you came up on the losing end..

Floyd the Butcher: Did I now? What did I promise? What did he Promise? He promised a championship. He promised he’d knock me out! Destroy my frontal lobe or some shite. He delivered on one of his promises. What did I promise? To bend him. To break him. To make him scream. I promised to be the only man standing when it was all said and done. I promised that I WOULD MAKE A LASTING IMPRESSION. Did I not? He’s got a pair of broken fingers. And fingers never heal properly. So every time he looks down and sees his crooked arse fingers, every time it’s cold out and they swell with pain. He will remember the day he got Butchered!

(Floyd snarks and walks off.)