["Video Killed The Radio Star" by the Buggles gently plays underneath the opening shot of a well furnished bedroom. The camera pans and we see a High Definition Television, a Macintosh Powerbook, what appears to be an original Rene Magritte, an autographed photo of the five living US Presidents, an encased Number 24 jersey of the San Francisco Giants, a small plaque which appears to be congratulating the recipient on a Pulitzer Prize, a series of leather bound first edition works of fiction by Carson McCullers including "Member of the Wedding, "The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter" and "The Ballad of The Sad Cafe" and a photograph of a striking green-eyed, auburn haired woman alongside two beautiful children next to which is a birthday card reading, "We Love You Daddy." Cut to the bed, in which there are clearly two sleeping figures, both hidden completely underneath a comforter, suddenly, one of those figures begins to stir...and then sits up with a start bolt upright into view... It is Tim Dross. Dross is as we know him... but somehow completely different. There is a sense in his face, even as he struggles toward consciousness, that his is a life of contentment... of... Happiness. Dross rubs the sleep out of his eyes, shaking his head... His completely shaved, non-toupeed, head. ...as if trying to break loose from...] TD: Good Grief! Honey, Honey, wake up. Oh my goodness, wake up. I have had the strangest, the most improbable dream. [Dross begins to gently place his hand on the still obscured figure which lies next to him.] TD: I dreamed that I gave up the legal practice and somehow found myself as a television broadcaster for... for some professional wrestling organization! I hosted this dreadful weekly television show and each Tuesday for a full year I went with this man... this crazy, unseemly man all across the world in totally off the wall adventures that somehow were all about wrestling! We got into fights and airplane crashes and every now and again there would be a death threat but somehow... somehow we seemed to have a good time. We sort of... became friends. Can you believe that? Honey? What a wild, wild dream. [The figure next to Dross then sits straight up -- and clad in a pink nightgown, is the last figure you ever want to see in a pink nightgown... The 500+ pound Mexican representative to the Jobber Justice Squad, The Smooth.] SMOOTH: Go back to bed, baby. Momma like "Truly". [Cut to Dross who stares blankly at Smooth... then at the camera... And then screams.] . ___. __ ____ __ ________ ______ ||\ |/ | || | | || | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| || \|\__ | __||__ | |_||__ | || | \ v v / | __| || | \|/ || | | || |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| ||______/|\__||__ | | ||_________________________ with Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts Tuesday 17 March 1998 ................................................... [Pearl Jam's "Rear View Mirror" blasts through the shot as we re-open, this time on the interior of the cavernous Wembley Stadium, perhaps the premiere sports facility in all of Europe. 80,000 seats lie empty, a video screen at the Stadium's south end reading, "Welcome To Ring Wars V". We see the expansive grass pitch, a field which, in a matter of days, will be packed bow to stern with screaming, raving fans of the premiere profesional wrestling organization in the world today... But which right now holds only two. Veteran IIWF commentators Tim Dross and Steve "Soundbite" Roberts sit on director's chairs which sport their names smack in the middle of the field. As the shot pulls in, we see that both men, as well as the entire IIWF production crew are wearing brown leather jackets along with matching black t-shirts with red lettering which read: Inside The IIWF: Class of '97 No Love. No Learnin'. The music fades as the shot zooms in on a smiling Tim Dross:] TD: You are _Tuned_In_ to "Inside the IIWF"! You are _Tuned_In_ to Wembley Stadium, site of the jewel in the IIWF Pay-Per-View crown, Ring Wars V! You are _Tuned_In_ to your final look at all the news, views, reviews and previews, highlights and sidelights, cheers and jeers -- a look back at the week that was and then up ahead at what will be here in the consensus number one professional wrestling organization in the world today... [There is a noticeable absence of any other voice Dross confidently says his catch phrase...] TD: The _Mighty_ IIWF! I am your host, Tim Dross and we welcome you to a very special episode of "Inside the IIWF", very special not only because we are five, just five short days away from what is certain to go down in the annals of professional wrestling history as one of the most amazing nights of all time, Ring Wars V -- but because, as certainly all of you are aware, after one year plus, this is the final broadcast of "Inside the IIWF" under our current "behind the scenes production team." And we could not have a show like this without the "straw that stirs the drink", the Tower of Power, The King of Sting, The Count of Monte Fisto, the Hardest Working Man in the Rasslin' Business, the two and a half Grapple Award Winning... Black Jesus... My tag team colleague, Steve "Soundbite" Roberts. [The Soundbite applauds as we widen to a two shot.] TD: Steve Roberts, Welcome. SR: Drossy, it be quite a thing. One day a man is wandering through the wrestling universe, a nomad really -- naked, drunken, seemingly without a care in the world besides how to get a little skanky for his hangdown... And the next moment, he's sitting here next to the Allmighty Black Jesus, about to finish up a career of broadcast mediocrity. It's gotta be good to be you. TD: Always a pleasure to be here with you too, Steve Roberts, and always a pleasure to be here a mere five days before our biannual extravaganza known as Ring Wars. And this one is no exception. SR: The Ring Wars that breaks the rules, Dross -- the night the IIWF finally pops one open and fires one up -- we're gonna have so much garbage in this Stadium come Saturday Night, the homeless guys who sleep behind the Beaver Trap will show up looking for some half eaten cocktail weiners. TD: I think you can do better than that. SR: Er, so much junk that Kurt Cobain will be reincarnated just to shoot some of it into his ass? TD: Almost. SR: So much garbage that Joe Esterhaus and Paul Verhoeven will get paid 10 million to slap some car chases and a lezbo scene with that broad from "Saved By The Bell" into it and release it wide on Memorial Day for 20th Century Fox? TD: That one will work. Thank you for indulging me, Steve Roberts. SR: Hell, after that little perfomance at the top of the show, I figured I owe you one, buddy. The Academy's gonna be knocking on your door come '98! Don't forget to thank the little people; Bradley Reed, Violence Unlimited, Boy Requiem and his army of the traveling Imps... TD: I don't know about that, but I do know that the Road to Ring Wars will come to a grinding halt right here in Wembley Stadium in five short days -- so let's take your _First_Look_ at all the matchups set for Ring Wars V!! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| FIRST LOOK: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| IIWF Ring Wars 5: Saturday 21 March 1998 ....................................................................... ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP DEATH IN DARKNESS MATCH: Steve "the Fury" Kowalski vs. "Savage" Shadoe Rage IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP THAMES BARGE MATCH: Duncan Macbeth vs. "The Savior" Simon Lebec IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP CAGE MATCH: "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. Icehawk IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP SEVEN TABLES OF FEAR MATCH: Down Boys vs. Natural Predators vs. Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TD: It could not be more fitting Steve Roberts, that the endeavor we started from Nebraska City, Nebraska with the Road to Ring Wars 3 one year ago ends here at Wembley Stadium, where in five days the IIWF will put on the mother of all Pay-Per-Views when Ring Wars V goes hardcore. SR: Hell, Drossy, I thought we were already there last Saturday Night, the monsoon -- a company wide brawl, the Sychopaths charging the ring -- I haven't seen that kinda wild-ass behavior since that Thanksgiving when Daddy started putting bourbon in the pumpkin pie. TD: A tremendous Saturday Night it was -- and one which leads us perfectly to Ring Wars V, all four titles on the line in this twelve match extravaganza. And at the top of the wrestling world, is, as ever, the battle for the Heavyweight Championship of the IIWF, the single most prestigious title in this sport. SR: And the song remains the same, Drossy. In the IIWF every man knows that you don't fear the reaper but you damn sure should fear the Fury. Steve Kowalski is the best wrestler in the world today -- and nothing this Saturday Night will change that. TD: The Fury has indeed shown no signs of slippage since defeating Brody Thunder for the IIWF Heavyweight Championship at Snow Brawl - but this young man Shadoe Rage has certainly earned his mettle, capitalizing on that huge "Run of Rage" to parlay himself into a World Title shot. He has to be considered a dangerous challenger. SR: You know what they say about wishes, Dross. TD: No. SR: I'll think of it in a minute -- but Shadoe Rage is a man living on a wish here, a wish that you can go from the back half of a tag team to holding the most important title in the world in a couple of months -- and it just ain't so. Hell yeah, young Rage is a budding superstar, he's had a fine run. But that and a quarter ain't gonna buy him a cup of coffee against the Fury. The IIWF Heavyweight Title ain't for upstarts -- it's man's business and when the business is taken care of this Saturday Night, Shadoe Rage is gonna be on the business end of a Skullpump and is gonna walk out of that ring a loser. TD: Dramatic stipulations in this one, as with all twelve of our Ring Wars matchups, explosives in the ring, tables outside, and periodic blackouts in the stadium will make this matchup.... SR: Like sending Robert Downey, Jr. across the 43rd parallel. All I'm saying to the fans who will join us Saturday Night is that the wrestler's limbs are not to be taken home as souvenirs, even if they happen to fly into the second deck. A great night to have the prosthetics concession. TD: One additional point about this match, the title can change on a disqualification -- and rules will apparently be strictly enforced, so amidst the possible carnage will be warnings for closed fists, for example -- it is an anomalous aspect to this title defense... and one which adds a certain degree of intrigue as we approach Ring Wars V. SR: I'm intrigued by a title match when each of us can piss off one of the wrestlers a week before the card. TD: Steve Roberts is, of course, referring to the Intercontinental matchup that pits Duncan Macbeth and Simon Lebec on a barge floating down the River Thames. SR: Like Huck and Ole' Jim floating down the mighty Mississip., Dross. Big Sam Clemens POP! TD: The story here may be the head injuries inflicted upon Macbeth by Lebec this past Saturday Night, as the challenger almost completely eschewed thoughts of tag victory in favor of damaging the champion. With the history of concussions by Macbeth, what sort of shape will he be in come Saturday Night? SR: Yeah, Macbeth's brittle. Big deal. What's important here is what you said last week, Dross -- you said Macbeth didn't work hard -- are you gonna back down from that or are you gonna stand up and be a man? TD: Well, Steve Roberts, that is a falsehood. What I said was that Duncan Macbeth was not a fighting champion -- and I absolutely stand by that. There is a difference between scratching and crawling your way up the ladder here in the IIWF -- as Macbeth did as well as has anyone. He clearly wanted the IIWF Intercontinental Championship -- and deserved to hold it. However, Steve Roberts, that is distinct from knowing what to do with it once it is fastened around your waist -- and this young man has simply not defended this belt with the regularity of previous champions. Duncan Macbeth has wrestled more tag matches than singles matches during his reign -- and he can blame the lack of will of challengers or promoters for that all he likes. But, Steve Roberts, aren't these really excuses? The fact is that while Duncan Macbeth was one of the great Intercontinental contenders we have ever seen in the IIWF -- he has seemed decidedly less single-minded of purpose as the man who wears the crown. [The crew stops to applaud Dross, the veteran commentator giving an awkward shuffle as Roberts grins.] SR: Timmy D. gettin' his last show schwerve on. It all be about Dross in the 9-8. TD: And your response to Simon Lebec, who took umbrage with your suggestion that perhaps he was not up to the standards of previous Intercontinental contenders? SR: Hey, Lebec? Who's the last guy you beat? TD: That's it? SR: Hell yeah, that's it. I say Lebec ain't exactly been a house afire in the ring the last couple of months -- he responds by talking about Badboy Bagwell. Look, it ain't that Lebec isn't a good wrestler or a total, stone freak. He's all that -- but this guy hasn't had an IIWF win of any real consequence... maybe in a year and a half! We don't give guys straps for longevity, Dross -- otherwise Morton and LaRue would be tag team champions of the world. Are you telling me that, right now, at Ring Wars V, that Simon Lebec is the guy who should walk out of this building... or... that boat as the number two wrestler in this company? It's stupid even to think so, Dross. I'll take a dozen guys who have been on more of a roll than Lebec, and I'll even leave behind the butter and jelly! TD: Butter and jelly? SR: My girl Chelsea must be jelly 'cause jam sho' don't shake like that! TD: Well, whatever the possible flaws inherent in that matchup -- a potential match of the night will occur inside the confines of a steel cage when the absolutely out of control Takezo Musashi will defend his Cruiserweight gold against the returning aerialist Icehawk. SR: What is that thing they say about the wishes? TD: I don't know. SR: Well, if Gaylord thinks he's gonna come out of the steel with the Neopolitan guy with his head still attached to his shoulders he is wishin' into the wind, Drossy. Musashi is All-Yakuza, All-the time. it takes a nation of millions just to hold him back -- and they're gonna put a _gymnast_ in a cage with this guy? You ever seen those signs at the zoo, "Please don't Feed the wolverines"? They don't bother to say, "Please Don't Hop Into the Cage with the Wolverines" because they assume even retarded six year olds goofy from the Elmer's fumes know better. TD: Takezo Musashi is indeed unhinged, perhaps the posterboy for this version of Ring Wars. And with an entire company poised against him -- I sometimes wonder if he will even make it to Ring Wars. But in the opposite corner is young Icehawk -- and while Steve Roberts may not understand this -- the Flyin' Finn may indeed be the future of the Cruiserweight division... maybe even the future of the entire IIWF. SR: Oh God, I'm gettin' out just in time. Dross goes nuts, Film at 11. TD: Steve Roberts, young Icehawk is a three-time tag team champion under the tutelege of former partner Edmund Fitzgerald -- and as young Steve Summer said nearly one year ago -- we are always looking for fresh, new, breakout stars and this Icehawk may indeed be, as he pegged, such a find. SR: Hell, what you'll have to find are his brains from the sides of the cage after the Chilean bashes him around Saturday Night. Look, I'm all for seeing a gay guy hit a shooting star press, it's fun and I'm a fun guy. But we're talking about a horse of a different breed here with Musashi, this guy ain't no Enigma anymore -- there's no mystery to what he's all about, he likes to hurt people and take their stuff. That's it. He's a bad, bad man and this Saturday we're gonna stick him in a cage with a gymnast. Dross, it's wrong. Actionable in 42 states. God, I love this business. TD: Something we know the IIWF fans loved in overwhelming numbers one year ago was the Seven Tables of Fear Match from Ring Wars 3. And there are only three men who truly understand what that match entailed -- and one of them is Joe Petrow. SR: Back to the table dance, buddy. Slip Joe Petrow 10 bucks and he'll put on a show -- but I gotta wonder if maybe Sychosys ain't on the wrong side in this one. TD: Well, that might be because he will not be facing one man -- but instead Team Sychosys will be battling for the Tag Team Championship against the champion Down Boys -- and the team from whom they took those straps -- the Natural Predators. SR: Uh, no. The Down Boys are fine, a couple of gay guys with a gay guy manager and the soundtrack to "Pretty In Pink". I got no problem if Emilio and Judd hold tag gold since nobody outside of Ally Sheedy cares anyway. By the way, Dross -- you know that Ally Sheedy goes girl/girl in a movie coming out this year? Aw, man! Forget all about the wrestling folks, save your thirty bucks to see winsome Ally Sheedy, star of such films as War Games and Short Circuit, go rug munching at a theatre near you! TD: And the Natural Predators? Certainly always a hardworking, solid team. SR: Drossism for board boring. Sure they work -- and thank God for that otherwise they'd be making burritos on the street. But have you ever seen an interview with these guys? It looks like they're making a hostage tape. TD: That's a tad harsh. SR: My tad's a tad fresh, Dross. But I rub some dirt on it and walk it off. That's why they call me the Black Jesus. TD: Oh... that's why. I had been wondering, actually. SR: The thing here is the number three wrestler in the world -- and you know what, Dross --- I've been thinking about Joe Petrow and you know what I think the problem with Team Sychosys is? TD: I'm just hoping raspberry sauce isn't involved. SR: The problem is that Maurice McArthur... has gotten _too_ good! TD: No one will ever accuse you of being behind the curve, Steve Roberts. SR: Look, when 4M sucked, when he was Bobby B. Goode with a less marketable gimmick -- Team Sychosys was a riot. I told everybody I could that this was the angle... TD: Steve Roberts... SR: Christ, Dross... I told everybody this was the _infusion_ the tag division needed to save it from a half dozen teams with shoulder pads and six word vocabularies. "Sychosynthesis"... ah man, that was the stuff. But you know what I see? McArthur's getting better! He's getting better, Dross! And what that means is that instead of having a Joe Petrow who is the highest ranked singles wrestler in the company challenging for the World Title while on the side cracking everybody up while he carries some scrub up the tag ladder... Instead we have Joe Petrow, full time tag wrestler, with a partner who_will_never_be any better than "not as bad as he used to be". So what, Dross? Who the hell cares about a mediocre McArthur? A McArthur that maybe, just maybe one day will be able to get a nearfall on a real wrestler or beat the crap out of Marty Warnett? No -- what we like is a godawful McArthur, clumsily executing simple maneuvers while Joe Petrow has to carry him through matches -- that's what's interesting, Dross! That's where the money is in this angle! Why do I have to explain everything? TD: Joe Petrow seems to enjoy being a full time tag wrestler -- and his experience with this unique match makes TS perhaps the favorite this Saturday Night. SR: Yeah it does, they might even win. WHO CARES? Get your ass back to the singles ranks where it belongs, Petrow. You wanna be the top of the middle the rest of your career -- you wanna run away from laying it on the line in a four-star match against our five-star Champion? You wanna hide behind some already trademarked jabrone that will be back carrying the Gecko's boots once you bolt Portland for the minor leagues again? Maybe the wrong guy won that submission match afterall, Dross. Least Quigley always came to fight. [The members of the crew all smack their palms to their foreheads simultaneously while a voice in the back yells, "Ouch, babe."] TD: Well. Four Titles on the Line. A possibility of Four brand new champions. And it will all come your way this Saturday Night only on... Pay-Per-View! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ COFFIN COOLER MATCH: Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines vs. Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele DESCENT INTO HELL SCAFFOLD MATCH: Serge Annis vs. Mad Dog Watkins BLINDFOLD MATCH: Marty Warnett vs. "To Excess" Rick Williams WATERBUCKET MATCH: Christopher Stonebreaker vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TD: In the middle of the card, the storyline is very much one of crossroads. Two matches pit IIWF newcomers against veterans and a very clear sense of the direction of the Double Eye will be revealed when we see which is the man whose arm is raised at the end of the night -- one match pits two of the very best wrestlers in all the world, who may no longer be able to co-exist in one company -- but we lead off with what may be the most... enjoyable, entertaining feud currently going in the IIWF, that between Gunnar Gaines and the Meatman. SR: You know what they say, Dross -- comedy is tragedy that happens to other people. And this thing makes me laugh all night long. Meat attacks Oprah, Gaines kidnaps Meat, Meat poisons Gaines...I'll tell you, Drossy -- if everything in the IIWF were as good as these guys have been the last two months -- it would be enough to make me rethink my utter contempt of this program and everything for which it stands. TD: I don't believe that for a moment. SR: You're right. I am looking forward to finishing this show like my man Bill looks forward to Intern Wet T-Shirt Night. Ain't nothing gonna break that stride. Hey, Dross -- hear what Clinton said when his aides brought him the Abortion Bill? TD: What's that, Steve Roberts? SR: "Pay it." TD: A real difficult task awaits these two men, Gaines and the Meatman as they approach this Cooler match -- one man will shoot up the ladder here in the IIWF and the other will.... SR: Get his giblets frozen off. TD: A classic battle here, Steve Roberts, the Meatman is a true rookie, a rarity here in the IIWF -- a man who did not work his way up the minor league ladder... SR: I knew a guy like that. What ever happened to that guy? TD: ...but instead came straight to the top of the heap -- and he winds up facing a man in Gunnar Gaines who has built his reputation for years wrestling all around the world -- and now makes his way to the big leagues. SR: Points for Meatman for not backin' down -- and points for Gaines too, Drossy. The guy's like the Anti-Destructo, he comes here, works hard -- doesn't try to climb too fast. You know Gaines stinks because he's the stuff -- and we are gonna see some kick ass fun come Saturday Night. TD: There won't be any fun whatsoever when the long simmering feud between Serge Annis and Mad Dog Watkins -- a feud that has seen sneak attacks, copious amounts of blood and a liberal sprinkling of fire -- finally reaches its rightful conclusion, when these two men climb the Scaffold at Ring Wars V. SR: Annis and the Old Dog are as good as anyone in the game today, Dross -- and if they weren't stuck butting heads for the last two months either one of them could make a run for either of the straps, hell, I expected big Serge, streamlined right at 290 pounds to be holding Macbeth's gold by Ring Wars. Maybe the Scotsman's right -- maybe guys are ducking him. Why didn't either of these two guys make an IC run over the last couple of months? TD: It may be, as you say, because these two men are obsessed with each other. It may be that the IIWF has become "not big enough to hold both of these men". There is a nasty component to this feud that will all come out this Saturday Night from the scaffold -- two men, two veterans of the ring wars will meet_one_more_time in what is sure to be the most personal match of all at Ring Wars V. SR: You know what I take personally? TD: What's that, Steve Roberts? SR: The thought that Marty Warnett could somehow, in any way, get back to title contention here in the IIWF. TD: Two matches which are very, very similar round out this section when young superstars Rick Williams and Christopher Stonebreaker meet longtime IIWF veterans Marty Warnett and Luke Steele in a Blindfold and Steel Bucket match respectively. SR: Dammit, Dross -- what is it they say about the wishes... if wishes had wheels, my grandma would be a schoolbus? TD: That makes no sense at all. SR: You never saw my grandma in her Sunday yellow dress. Jazzercise, baby dolls. She made Tonnage look like Kate Moss. TD: A feud that began with the blinding of Billy Shakespeare culminates Saturday Night in really the only way that it could -- these two men will meet in a Blindfold Match. SR: I know what I wanted to say... TD: Is this where we get to the raspberry sauce? SR: Dammit Dross, pay attention. What you have here in these two matches is a has been and a never was who are thoroughly outgunned. Marty Warnett ain't done a damn thing in a year, Dross -- and I am gonna go on the rooftop with my rifle if I hear one more time about what a great guy he is because he didn't walk out of here when he drifted to the bottom of the roster. Here's a guy, Dross -- here's a guy who spends half the year sleeping... loses the IC strap, he goes away for a couple of months... finally beats Chris Quigley -- and decides to take a few weeks off -- the only program he was in for, what, six months was totally pushed by some whiny knockoff who ran out when his momma called him in for supper. You want title shots, Warnett? Then do something about it. Every show, every card, every chance you get, let's see the face of Marty Warnett. Jesus Christ, Dross -- there are forty guys here all the time and only two or three really high profile feuds -- these things just don't get handed to you outta the air -- you gotta WORK!!! Helluva concept, ain't it? A guy making his own fun. You ask the Natural Predators or Takezo Musashi or that son of a bitch Requiem or Serge Annis or Derek Mota -- nobody went to those guys and said, "Hey guys -- how about we give you a push?" Hell, no. Those guys made their own way, they pounded and pounded and pounded away until they earned their places around here --- and you know what? When they slipped -- they were slippin'. This ain't the unemployment office. The Double Eye, Double U F'n F doesn't give a handout to nobody. TD: Rick Williams is, as we have pointed out many times, a good looking newcomer here in the IIWF -- as is Christopher Stonebreaker, who will take on Luke Steele. SR: Yeah, I guess that bodyguard will be someplace -- but you know what, Dross -- we tried and tried with "Why Can't I Turn Heel" and the fact is he ain't ever going anywhere. Now, this Stonebreaker kid has some serious skills -- but he ain't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer if you know what I'm saying. TD: I never know what you're saying. SR: Stonebreaker ain't the brightest candle in the menorrah? The spiciest taco in the combination plate? The phatest hit left on the bong? He's a freaking moron, Drossy! An inbred, bucket toting crackerboy. TD: I don't think that's fair. SR: Forget the ugly guy, Dross! We have a dumb guy. Hear that one about Albert Einstein coming back to life, Dross? TD: I am certain I'm going to regret this... tell me about Albert Einstein coming back to life, Steve Roberts. SR: Albert Einstein comes back to life and there's this huge party for him, people milling all about just trying to get a glimpse and Einstein loves it right, just eats it up. He keeps hopping from discussion to discussion, meeting all sorts of new people... He meets a woman, a tall blonde statuesque bombshell with big gazoobas.. TD: Gazoobas? SR: ...and the first thing Einstein asks is "what's your I.Q."? And the woman says "187". And Einstein is thrilled, so they talk about the theory of relativity and Kant's categorical imperative and they just have a great time. TD: I don't see... SR: So Einstein then moves on and sees this diminutive brunette, so tiny and lithe, her tight taught body straining against a form-fitting pants suit. And Einstein asks what her IQ is...and she says "159". And again, Einstein is very excited -- so they deconstruct the works of William Faulkner and each recite their favorite passages from "Richard III" and Albert picks up her digits and he's just digging this party the most... TD: Sometime today... SR: Then some guy comes up to him, some complete slob with his gut hanging outside his stained Budweiser t-shirt and he's falling all over everybody and Einstein again asks, "What's your IQ"? And the guy looks at his hands and starts counting his fingers and finally says, "31". So Einstein pauses, puts his index finger to his chin and after a moment finally says... "How 'bout that Stonebreaker?" TD: That's... well that's just unfortunate, Steve Roberts. Why, may I ask, Richard III? [Roberts drops to one knee, a wild look in his eye as he raises a hand and in passable Elizabeathan voice begins.] SR: Who do I fear? Myself? There's none else by. Roberts loves Roberts..that is..I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes! I am... Then fly. What? From myself? Great reason why lest I revenge.... What? Myself _upon_ myself? Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good that I myself have done to myself - O, No I rather hate myself for hateful deeds committed by myself! I_am_a_Villain! Yet, I lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself, speak well... Fool! Do Not Flatter! [Roberts now begins to painfully wail his words, maintaining the dualistic nature of the dialogue as the shot zooms to a closeup of his pained face.] My conscience hath a thousand several tongues -- and every tongue hath a thousand several tales -- and every tale condemns me for a villain! Perjury...Perjury in the highest degree... Murder! Stern murder in the direst degree.. All several sins, all used in each degree throng to the bar, crying all "Guilty! Guilty!" [Roberts then falls to the ground, the camera going overhead for a shot of his face, his eyes closed, the emotion now completely drained from his voice as he finishes:] I shall despair. There is no creature loves me. And if I die, no soul will pity me, nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself find in myself no pity for myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd came to my tent...and every one did threat tomorrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. [Roberts stops and lies completely motionless, silent as the shot goes still...] TD: Ring Wars V. Saturday Night. Don't miss a moment of action. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ HIGHLAND BRAWL: "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner vs. Andrew Macbeth MASK LADDER MATCH: Deathbringer vs. Harlequin Tragedy TOP CONTENDERS TAG TEAM WARFARE: American Dragons vs. Fabulous Ones vs. Night Patrol vs. The Machines KING OF THE MOUNTAIN PROGRESSIVE MATCH: featuring: "Sanguinary" Steve Manning, Charles Scheffield, "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard, Richard "Moxy" Blue, Derek Mota, Edmund Fitzgerald, "The Demon" Damien Lestat, Ike Sampson, Eddy "Flap" Jacks ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Roberts has brushed himself off and nonchalantly returned to his chair.] TD: Finally... finally we will also see the former cruiserweight champion continue his feud with the newcomer Andrew Macbeth. SR: God! God! God! God! If we get one more guy with a brogue around here I'm gonna advocate the IIWF becomes a league full of mutes. Mutes, Dross -- deaf and dumb just like Earl Alfonso... TD: We're knocking officials now? SR: I'm running outta guys, Drossy. TD: Andrew Macbeth has indeed cut a mysterious path here in the IIWF, seemingly jealous about the relationship shared by his cousin Duncan and Tim Turner. SR: Sounds sorta suspicious. Do we know for sure that Duncan and Andrew are related? Have we seen the blood tests? DNA sampling? Where's Barry Scheck? Get me Barry Scheck! TD: What are you implying? SR: Just that this little feud seems awfully bitchy for a standard "I will not ever...ever...fight my brother....until the Pay-Per-View" program. We got Cheesecake's brother popping up everywhere and no one really knows where Duncan stands in all this -- I'm telling you Dross it just doesn't sit right with me -- and from what I've heard in the locker room some of these guys aren't sitting right either, if you know what I'm saying... TD: That one will be a Falls Count Anywhere matchup -- and the next will be maybe the strangest ladder match ever, when the Deathbringer becomes maybe the largest man ever at 300+ pounds to climb the ladder against Tragedy. SR: You know, they're gonna put the Dead Man's mask up the ladder... but what they oughta put are a half dozen Filet O Fish sandwiches, just in a big greasy bag. I'm telling you, if the prize for winning the World Championship were to be smothered in tartar sauce -- the 'Bringer would have regained that strap six months ago. TD: Two long-time IIWF veterans in this one, Tragedy is the only Harlequin on the big card this Saturday Night -- so you know he will be putting in all he has, and the Deathbringer is the last of a dying breed here in the IIWF -- an original member, through the multitude of changes which we have had, growing into the most powerful organization in all of wrestling -- Deathbringer remains one of the few constants -- and that is to be respected. SR: What do they say about the wishes, Dross? If wishes had wishes we'd all drive a Mercedes? TD: I don't know. SR: Damn. What I'm saying here Drossy is that these guys are just playing out the string -- Tragedy and the 'Bringer can wish for fortune and glory all they want, but this is a young man's game -- and the young turks in the Double Eye have passed these old men by. Climb your ladder, men. But don't be surprised if no one is there when you make it back down. TD: Big tag team action when four top contenders to the Tag Team Titles meet in a tornado match to determine the Number One Contenders for the gold. SR: Okay, Drossy -- let's play the game, who do we got? TD: The Machines, Wong and O'Neal, are reuinited and they are feeling awfully good about themselves, Steve Roberts, after that despicable attack on Ms. Miki this past Saturday Night. SR: Tough Guy, Butch Guy, Drossy. Sure, O'Neal wanted Wong to play on our team, come on over to our side, just like in "Top Gun", "You can ride my tail anytime"..."You can ride mine"...Don't tell me that today's major action films aren't predominantly about sexual confusion. Your "Titanic," the ship on which hundreds of men went down... hey, Drossy, how do you tell the difference between the Titanic and the guys from Night Patrol? TD: I don't know, Steve Roberts. SR: The Titanic had a band. TD: We will be seeing Night Patrol, who achieved such success in their first IIWF stint in action in this one... as well as the Fabulous Ones, whose long-standing feud with the Machines looks nowhere near conclusion after Saturday Night. SR: Yeah, good for them. I mean..not good for you, me or the Worldwide Viewing Audience who is forced to watch the little slapfight, but they seem to enjoy rolling around the squared circle in their underwear. Good for you, boys! TD: And the American Dragons. SR: Well, you know the drill by now, Drossy -- these guys are the Puff Daddy of the IIWF, making their living ripping off somebody better, the only difference is Puffy's got the Family, a buttfull of Mariah Carey and about a trillion dollars in gold lamé suits -- while the American Dragons just have each other. And yet another job to do. Enjoy, ladies! TD: Finally, the fans right here in Wembley Stadium will thrill to see the "King of the Hill" Match which will pit IIWF superstars against each other, two at a time until only one man is left standing -- that man going on to fight for a title of his choice when IIWF Saturday Night returns in two weeks! SR: Filler match. TD: These men certainly have had their fill of each other judging from what we all saw this past Saturday Night -- I have a feeling we will see some old scores settled in this one. SR: I have no idea who's wrestling. TD: Steve Manning! SR: Oh yeah, the guy who took his pants down in the middle of the ring a couple of weeks ago -- I was confused there Dross, it looked like he had a penis, only it was much smaller than a penis. Strange, strange, strange. TD: Charles Scheffield! SR: Hey, good for Scheffy. Still plugging away almost like anyone cared. You go, girl! TD: Ryan Howard! SR: I've totally forgotten who that is. TD: Moxy Blue! SR: Quite the freak, Dross -- quite the freak -- and you know, I likes the freaks. There's this homeless guy with one arm who is always sniffing around my 'Stang. I have him do little one armed tricks, you know, I sing "Pour Some Sugar On Me" and he waves his little stump in the air -- it is funny, funny stuff. TD: Derek Mota! SR: Hey, we miss the crazy guy. Good to see him back. Now, he's gonna get his ass kicked here, he's gotta be last of nine... well, ahead of Manning, of course, but this new guy Bacon is ahead of Manning, so that's not saying much. TD: Ike Sampson! SR: Oh, here we go. Mr. Wrestle Clean -- shave him bald and give him an earring, Drossy. Ike will clean your pipes like nobody's business. How do you think he made it out of Tokyo, Dross? Everyone in the damn country knows he killed that woman on the subway -- then he ate a hot dog just like he was sitting in the bleachers at Candlestick Park. The only way he ever makes it out alive is if he'll be somebody's leafblower. TD: Edmund Fitzgerald! SR: Career's over. TD: Excuse me. SR: Career's over. Look, everyone knows that the goal of every tag team is to break up one day and have one of them move onto the real wrestling -- but you don't see two guys move on, Drossy -- it's almost like one guy sucks all the talent out of the other one -- so if Icehawk...oddly enough...was the one who did the sucking, then all that's left for Fitz is to go back working the independent circuit for dimes like a trained monkey. And if he's really lucky -- and your boy Gaylord hits bigtime -- one day maybe Fitz can grow a beard and start following Icehawk around from promotion to promotion, humiliating himself beyond all recognition and earning the unending scorn of wrestlers and wrestling fans around the world. TD: Damien Lestat! SR: Guy creeps me out. I don't even like to talk about him. TD: And finally, the newcomer, Eddy Jacks! SR: This guy's gonna be strong, Drossy, Real strong. I can feel it in my bones. But, not Saturday. Saturday he's putting on his "I's jus' so happy to be in the big leagues, massa" face on and picking up his check at the end of the night. TD: So, who is your winner here? SR: The wrestling fan, Dross. Such great competition truly makes me wish we could do this show another year! [The bearded former IIWF executive, plugging away on his keyboard, lets out an involuntary shriek of anguish.] SR: You know, in cyberspace, no one can hear you scream. TD: Steve Roberts! SR: Oh, settle down, Drossy, I gotta ticket to ride and I don't care. But, you know, it's just too bad we didn't get to use the rest of our ideas... the "All-Nude Inside"... TD: Tastefully done. SR: Our backwards show... our bed-in... our re-enactment of the First Battle of Bull Run... our tribute to the late Dr. Benjamin Spock, whose book I once used to swat the hell out of some brat playing ball in my lawn... our version of "Antigone"... our very special "coming out" show... your foray into the world of hallucinogenic substances... my crippling bout with Lou Gehirg's disease... our rock opera... TD: I don't think we could have gotten Flat Stanley to play that gig. SR: Hah! Big, gratuitous last show reference, Drossy -- good for you. TD: Well, we did have many ideas -- but much better to leave something in one's quiver, Steve Roberts. You never know when they'll be in demand again... [Roberts and Dross each look toward the camera with one eyebrow raised.] TD: But nothing... nothing could possibly be more in demand than this big, big card. It is Ring Wars V... It is Pay-Per-View the way that only the IIWF can do it... and it is_this_Saturday_Night! SR: Hey, Dross -- what is it with you and raspberry sauce today? TD: Oh, I don't know Steve Roberts. I suppose I am growing a little nostalgic for the Waffle Houses back home. SR: Dross, they got French toast over here. 'Course you gotta eat it cold -- and who the hell wants that? [At this moment, a small penguin oddly scoots through the shot. Its passing draws smiles from both men, clearly a remembrance of days past crossing their minds.] SR: Damn gluttons. Oh sure, they're the rightful kings of the animal kingdom... but they're damn gluttons nonetheless. TD: Good times, Steve. Good times. SR: Hey, you know what I almost wish, buddy, I almost wish things had turned out different back up the road. You know what I'm sayin'? TD: You know what they say, Steve Roberts. SR: What's that, partner? TD: If wishes were horses... then beggars would ride. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| COMING FRIDAY: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Countdown to Ring Wars 5 ....................................................................... [Dross and Roberts are now each standing in front of their chairs, a noticeable breeze has kicked in giving the shot a crisp feel.] TD: And so... SR: Roundin' third and headin' for home. TD: Not... not quite yet, Steve Roberts. Over the past several weeks, as we've taken our little final tour across the wrestling world, meeting so many of our great fans, thanking the well-wishers... SR: Makin' everybody sick. Tell the guy with the beard to just pack his crap up and get the hell out. Enough of this, Dross. You know what I always say... bury the dead, they stink up the joint. TD: ...and I thought long and hard about some of the times we've had this past year, the good times -- the bizarre, otherworldly circumstances and, well, Steve Roberts, I really wanted to do something to memorialize what it is that we've done here over the past twelve months. SR: If you drop trou and moon our worldwide television audience I will kiss you full on the mouth, Drossy. TD: Tempting though that be, Steve Roberts, no... I had something else in mind. Some thirty odd years ago, I got my first radio job straight out of high school at a small 5000 watt AM station in Jay, Oklahoma. KMRN, "The Voice of the Heartland", I did the local high school basketball and then pulled the midnight to 6:00 AM studio slot once the season was over... SR: Nothing like spinning the wax at four in the morning, Dross. You know, I spun the wax at four in the morning once. TD: Really, Steve? How'd that turn out for you? SR: Oddly enough, it wasn't so hot. [Dross chuckles, shakes his head and then continues.] TD: Well, it wasn't really a big deal, you know. We didn't have much of an audience, although at night some folks said they could hear me from clear up in Kansas City -- and I didn't make more than lunch money really. But, it was a start and, as you know there was a young woman with whom I was acquainted at the time... SR: Penelope Ann. Sweet, fair, Penelope Ann who would dump you like a two year old shooting off a load in her Huggies for your brother Hoss. It's the saddest, saddest thing I ever heard -- you know, I believe that the heart will go on, Drossy. TD: ...well, on my first night at the station she came over to my little place down by the river, and she made me dinner, Steve Roberts -- and after dinner she gave me something. SR: Oral? Was it oral? Good for you, buddy. [Dross reaches into his jacket pcket, and pulls out a small gold pin. It is of a microphone and engraved thereon are the words, "The Best".] TD: She gave me this pin, Steve Roberts -- she said I should wear it to remember that I was the best radio broadcaster there was. Well, I wasn't, of course. But over the years, I think I've learned a few things. And one of the ths I've learned is that there's really only one rule in life... SR: Never charge the corner, especially with your neck. TD: ...and that is that everything ends. I've carried this pin around for thirty years, Steve Roberts. And today... today I give it to the best broadcaster I've ever met. Here you go, partner. [Dross takes a last glance at the pin -- and then hands in to a clearly stunned Roberts, who stares hard at the gold microphone, running his finger over the raised letters, "The Best" and then affixes it to his trademark leather jacket.] SR: Damn, Dross. I... I's gettin' all misty, brother. [Roberts looks away from the camera, clearing his throat.] TD: You deserve it, Steve Roberts. You've carved out a niche for yourself in the world of professional wrestling that I've never quite seen before. Whatever this show has accomplished over the past twelve months has largely been due to your... well, due to your ability to be the Black Jesus, Steve Roberts. And there's nobody I would have rather spent the last year of my life with. You're the best, Soundbite Steve. Wear it in good health. [Dross slaps Roberts on the back, the Soundbite obviously touched by his partner's gesture.] SR: Hell, buddy. I don't know what to say here. TD: Well, then let's finish this thing up. SR: No... No... I'll think of something. TD: Why was I afraid of that? SR: Everybody knows that maybe I didn't exactly have the fuzziest relationship with my dear ole' daddy, God rest his soul the awful son of a bitch. Maybe he locked me in the closet and maybe he bought me smokes for my 13th birthday and maybe he wanted me to wear momma's black pumps... [Dross looks at Roberts with a raised eyebrow, but stays silent.] SR: Sure, he was a hard man... But, you know, in his own way, he really was a good man, he put me on the straight and narrow, learned me right from wrong -- taught me that in this life you give no quarter and you expect none, "Stephanie", he'd say, "Take your faggot ass to the store and buy your daddy some of that biscuit mix." And hell, I would. He was my daddy, after all. But what I remember most was his baseball. My daddy had this baseball, Dross -- kept it in this glass case, only damn nice thing we had in the house after momma died. Daddy always said that it was the very home run ball hit by Bobby Thomson for the New York Giants to beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951. TD: Goodness gracious. Maybe the most famous moment in the history of professional sports, Steve Roberts. The Shot Heard 'Round The World. The story goes that no one ever found that ball. SR: "October 3, 1951 at 3:58 in the P.M., best second of my miserable life, Stephanie" Hell, Dross. I don't know if it was the real ball, wouldn' be beyond Daddy to stretch the truth a bit. All I know is he loved that baseball. He loved that baseball more than he loved anything else in his life. TD: I don't think that was true, Steve. SR: Hell, yeah, it was true, every year on Christmas morning he'd gather the whole family around, already half in the bag and yell, "I love this ball more than anything else in my life -- so keep your grubby little hands away from it!" He loved that baseball, Dross. And when he died... when that son of a bitch finally died, kicking and screaming and cussing at all of us... My Daddy didn't leave us nothing but alone, Dross. No money, no insurance, nothing. 'Cept one thing. He had a will... hell, more a note than a will -- and the only thing it said was, "I'm lettin' Stephanie play with the ball now. Don't scuff it up." My daddy had left me that baseball, Dross. My daddy never gave me nothing worth having in my whole life, not one goddamn thing -- but when he died... My daddy gave me his baseball. This baseball. [Roberts reaches into his jacket pocket... and pulls out a well worn baseball, the script reading, "Official National League Baseball", a quarter sized smudge of what appears to be pine tar is evident smack dead between the seams.] SR: My daddy loved this baseball more than anything in the world and when he died... He gave it to me. My daddy never said he loved me, Dross -- but my Daddy gave me this baseball. And today... today I am givin' it to you. [Roberts gingerly hands the frayed ball to Dross, who holds it as if it were a Fabergé egg, the two men's eyes meeting momentarily -- and then both quickly look away.] TD: I can't accept this, Steve Roberts. SR: Goddamn it, I ain't askin'. If I'm the best broadcaster goin' today -- then brother, you are the toughest sonofabitch in the valley. You gave your ass to the Double Eye this year and got nothing but crap for it, day in and day out. And when it would have been real easy for you to pack it in and dump off this little show -- you stuck it out for the team. Soundbite salute for you, Tim. You earned it. [Roberts raises his hand to his forhead crisply, as does every member of the crew, a proud smile enveloping Dross' face as moistness surrounds his eyes.] SR: Okay, partner, take us home. TD: So, we say goodbye, folks. And I guess I would just like to leave with this thought: Periodically there are disputes that will rise up, even within the IIWF family, as to the direction of the IIWF in 1997. Many have said and continue to say that the company took a backstep in the latter half of the year. Well, to those people -- and to all who might have cause to evaluate the worth of the 1997 version of the IIWF -- I would simply suggest that this show not be overlooked. The measure of a company is not simply a Pay-Per-View, nor an outstanding Saturday card -- part of what makes an organization the best in the world is that, week in, week out, the IIWF over the last twelve months has produced a show in "Inside the IIWF" which we quite frankly believe to be simply the best of its type. If I may risk borrowing a phrase, we will put our little 1997 Tuesday show up against "Any show... Anywhere... at Anytime...". It was nearly a year ago when I said something on another topic which seems more timely than ever now.... Here's the bar, gentlemen. Leap it if you can. [Roberts begins to applaud, applause that sweeps over the entire production crew, Dross blushes, giving a little wave as an intern quickly hands him a piece of paper.] TD: We... We have been handed a note from IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury.. SR: Damn Chief, breakin' kayfabe and all last week. If you tell people Brian Christopher is my son I'm gonna go upside yo' head. [Dross reads aloud:] TD: "Gentlemen, on this, the occasion of the end of your final broadcast, I request that you turn in your security passes...." SR: We're never gettin' into that booking room again, Drossy. TD: "...and also -- your wigs." SR: Aw, what the hell. [Dross then begins to remove his toupee... as does Roberts! Each man tossing the silly, degrading faux hair off-camera -- the shot zooming to a close up of the Soundbite... the completely, completely bald Soundbite... ...who then removes his flesh colored skull cap, once again revealing his natural shock of brown hair.] SR: Just thought I'd play too. Didn't want you to get all the focus, big man. TD: I... I don't know how comfortable I am like this, Steve Roberts. SR: Drossy, the toupee was a gag, made you look foolish -- you ain't foolish, buddy. You're a damn fine man and the voice of the _Mighty_ IIWF. Now let's say goodbye and go have a beer. TD: Please tune in Friday to our friends who will "Countdown to Ring Wars V", their well wishes were appreciated last week. And please, two weeks from today, tune into the _NEW_ "Inside the IIWF", we hope you will indulge the new folks as they attempt to launch their version of this program. We are certain that it will only continue to improve on our legacy... And of course, this Saturday Night... this Saturday Night, folks -- it is three hours of the jewel in the Pay-Per-View crown -- live from Wembley Stadium it will be none other than Ring Wars V! Do not miss a second of the action! [Dross briefly brings his hand to his face, a tear evident in the corner of his eye as his voice slightly cracks.] TD: So, for all of us here with "Inside the IIWF", for... SR: Ah, go ahead. TD: For the guy with the beard, Jim Jividen... for my tag team colleague, the Black Jesus, Steve "Soundbite" Roberts... I am Tim Dross wishing every single one of you a very heartfelt... Good Night. And Goodbye. ["These Are Days" by 10,000 Maniacs plays as the crew once again begins to applaud. Dross turns to Roberts, extending his hand to the Soundbite who ignores it, grabbing Dross in a hearty embrace, whispering something in his ear that brings about a chuckle from the veteran commentator. The camera pulls back, moving to an overhead shot of the enormous Wembley Stadium. Dross and Roberts separate, Dross being very careful to pick up his gifted baseball, each man shaking hands with members of the crew, before the long walks to opposite exits, a walk not shared by the bearded former IIWF executive, who climbs on an old, battered motorcycle and disappears from view. The music is replaced by a very soft version of John Lennon's "God". We cut to the tunnel leading from the Stadium and we see the back of Steve Roberts, his leather jacket draped over his shoulder, the Soundbite is walking with a slight limp -- the wear of the twelve month schedule perhaps having taken its toll on the "hardest working man in the rasslin' business". From behind, we hear the voice of young Carson who yells out:] CARSON: Wait, Thoundbite Thteve! [The weary Roberts turns around, offering a tired smile to his young friend. Carson tentatively raises a glass bottle of soda, asking:] CARSON: Do you... want my Coke? Weally. You can have it. [Roberts smiles, reaching down for the young boy's bottle of soda, the Soundbite drinks deep from the bottle as the words, "I'd like to buy the World a Coke...and put it in the fridge" are almost inexplicably heard sung from a place long ago and far away. Roberts finishes, handing young Carson the empty bottle and then turning and resuming his walk away from the Stadium. Carson, a crestfallen look encompassing his face turns as well, until stopped by the words of the once again turned around Soundbite:] SR: Hey, kid. Catch. [Roberts grabs his leather jacket as if to toss it... then pauses... reaching inside to a pocket and grabbing.... A baseball. He tosses the baseball to Carson, whose eyes grow large as saucers as he sees that it is well worn, bearing the words, "Official National League Baseball"... and has a quarter sized smudge dead between the seams.] CARSON: Wow! Thankth, Thoundbite Thteve! [Roberts reaches back into his jacket... and again tosses toward young Carson a baseball. An identical ball. And then he does so again, young Carson precariously holding three baseballs, all identical to each other... and all indistinguisible from the "one of a kind" ball which Roberts so emotionally gave to Dross just moments before. The camera focuses on Roberts, who shrugs his shoulders.] SR: Whaddya want? I'm a heel. [Roberts cackles, giving a jerk of his head that causes young Carson to excitedly follow along, the shot staying behind as we watch the two men exit toward the light at the end of the tunnel. With the Lennon lyric, "I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me" hanging in the air, the shot fades, leaving only one final word from the Soundbite over the dark screen...] SR: Morons. [And the program comes to an end.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+