Limey Lang

[Southpaw Stinger]

Thimply the besth.

[Oasis_Lad]

One of my better story efforts on the scene:

Burner sits alone in his dressing room, a copy of 'Big Earners Weekly' lays open on the dresser, next to it is a photo of Floyd Mayweather Jr. signed with big red lips.... it reads: "To my number one fan, Burner." next to that is an empty bucket - the letters KFC emblazoned across the front.

The door opens, Burner expectant rises to his feet awaiting a blinding succession of camera flashes but none come. Instead, in walks Dwayne, Burner's cousin and cornerman, revered genius of the family with an IQ of 68 "We gotta wrap your hands now, dawg." "Sure, homey." said Burner as he faked a smile.

"You're shaking" said Dwayne as he tried to steady Burner's hands to apply the wrapping. "Fuck off, dawg - I ain't scared of no *****! I'ma fuck up anybody up in dis ****"

"Calm down, Nicca. We don't want want you going out there all hot-headed or this speedy little fucker will make a fool outta you"

"You right, Bro. Let's just wrap my hands so I can go out there and KO this little foo' for my nicca Floyd"

Hands wrapped, heart beating, burner gets to his feet - his legs are unsteady. Burner and Dwayne open the door of the dressing room and begin the long walk along the corridor towards the ring. There's a constant humming which Burner knows is the crowd but he can't discern any of what's being chanted. Louder it grows and grows, time seems to be moving differently. Dwayne, behind Burner, his hands on his Cousin's shoulders showing support, has his head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. The floor is wet "This is a damn health hazard" Dwayne thinks to himself. "What's that? Steam?" Dwayne's eyes go from the ground to a discernible dribble coming from Burner's shorts... "Jesus Christ! He's gone and pissed himself"

Dwayne, lowers his head, shuts his eyes and tries not to breathe in as he trots towards the curtains with his fighter. "This isn't going to end well" Thinks Dwayne "And the motherfucker still owes me 4 Dollars and 78 Cents"

The curtains are drawn aside, a rapturous wave of noise, deafening in it's intensity washes over Burner almost toppling him off his already unsteady legs.

"Burner, you fuckin' imbecile!" one enraged fan hollers. "Fuck you, faggot!" another screams. A tear trickles down Burner's cheek, never has anyone been as harsh as this to him "Not even my Boxing Scene superior in every aspect, Makaveli" rues Burner.

"But fuck these bozos - I'll show them. I'ma knock this little Asian runt out"

Burner feeling rejuvenated, a strong belief inside himself, launches himself towards the ring, up the steps and after a few minutes manages to outwit the ring ropes and enters the ring.

Burner, strolls from post to post, getting himself acquainted with the ring. He meets the gaze of boxing analyst Max Kellerman, whom appears to be, bizarrely enough, dressed from head-to-toe in a cheerleader outfit with pictures of professional pugilist Paul Williams' face etched on every square inch. Max mouths something to Burner but Burner can't quite make it out......Max then holds up what appears to be a set of hotel room keys, signals the number 6 with his hand and winks.

Suddenly the whole arena erupts. Here comes Manny Pacquiao! Fighter of the Noughties and a top 30 ATG "Manny! Manny! Manny!" the entire arena chants in unison. Then, even louder, loud enough to wake even Ricky Hatton after a Manny left hook, the chants of "Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye!" begin in earnest. The entire crowd is one, one consciousness, willing this to take place.

Meanwhile, to the side of the ring, is the announcer's table, featuring: Jim Lampley, Larry merchant and Max Kellerman.

Lampley, admiring his own reflection in a TV monitor, is firing off an anecdote "Well, my pimp hand was strong that day let me tell you fellas..... ***** knows to move with my pipe and slippers when I tell her to now"

"As for this Burner or Milton, then I recall when I used to troll Boxing Scene forums - Even then you knew he was someone special, with special needs and probably wore diapers. But no one and I mean NO ONE! thought he was as dumb as to challenge Pacquiao to a fight..... isn't that right, Larry?"

Lampley turns to his right only to find a comatose Larry merchant in his announcer's chair with an empty bottle of vodka in his lap.

"Oh ****.... the fight..."

The referee stands in the middle of the ring, Manny Pacquiao, Champion of The Philippines, throwback fighter extraordinaire, in one corner, Burner, Champion for the argument in favour of ********, who obviously got those cornrows for a dare, in the opposite corner.

"Fight!"

It's on, Ladies and Gentlemen.....

"Right, Milton, Play it cool" Burner whispers to himself "Just do what Paul Williams does: Thrown an exceptional amount of punches and be tough as nai..........."

Before he'd even thought out the sentence, Pacquiao had unleashed an eight-punch combination on Burner's wispy-haired chin, ending with a hellacious left hook.

Burner was out before he hit the ground.

Stil **** though.

[Southpaw Stinger]

Feck Eubank. You're thimply the besth, Laddie.

burner can feckin' do one.

[Southpaw Stinger]

[Chunk..]

I'm gonna make myself a cheese sandwich.

[Flab]

Watch this. seriously.

[Naps]

Watch this. seriously.

Was waiting for a massive scat session. Hypejob vid.

[Flab]

[Earl-Hickey]

Watch this. seriously.

I'm at work........

i thought it was gonna be wrestling

[MONEYMAY-]

So what's the best british band out right now?