Post by Gentleman George on Sept 17, 2024 20:16:37 GMT
The scene opens with Gentleman George Thompson standing confidently at the podium, dressed in his signature sharp suit, bowler hat, and cane in hand. He looks directly at the camera, prepared to address the recent events in Tonga.
“Ah, yes, the tropical paradise of Tonga—a place I’d dare say I didn’t expect to find myself embroiled in such low-class theatrics. But, alas, when you’re in the presence of a man as arrogant as Terry Grudge, these things are inevitable.”
George pauses, adjusting his bowler hat as a smug smirk crosses his face.
“You see, I arrived in Tonga with a mission—to bring true wrestling excellence to the Commonwealth. While Mr. Grudge was busy playing talent scout, patting local wrestlers on the back, I was taking in the spectacle, bemused by his utter lack of discernment. The Brixton Road Gym? Please, it’s nothing more than a glorified training ground for brutes who rely on brawn and not a single ounce of technical finesse. Terry Grudge wouldn’t recognize real talent if it hit him in the face.”
He laughs to himself, as Lady Victoria Winchester stands beside him, nodding in approval.
“As Grudge blathered on at ringside with his little interview, I couldn’t help but make my presence known. After all, if anyone is going to train and refine wrestling talent, it should be someone who actually embodies the art of this sport—me, Gentleman George Thompson. The way Grudge has been fawning over these local wrestlers, claiming they’re good enough to train in Brixton? Well, I had to correct him, didn’t I?”
Thompson sneers, recalling the scuffle.
“It started with words, of course. Grudge can’t stand the fact that a man of my stature sees him for what he truly is—an outdated, unrefined slugger whose time in the spotlight has long since passed. When I told him he doesn’t know talent, he took offense, naturally. As always, Grudge resorts to brute force, pushing and shoving like a schoolyard bully, proving once again why he’ll never match my class or poise.”
George tilts his head, the condescension thick in his voice.
“He challenged me to settle it in the ring when we’re back in England, as if that would somehow intimidate me. Terry Grudge, let me be crystal clear—you may fancy yourself a heavyweight, but your strength pales in comparison to my intellect, my technique, and my superiority inside that ring. If you want to step into the squared circle with me when we return to England, I’ll gladly oblige. But know this: when I lock you in the Gentleman’s Honor, you’ll be tapping out faster than you can say Brixton Road Gym.”
Lady Victoria raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased with George’s declaration.
“To the people of Tonga and everyone watching, you’re witnessing the fall of a brawler and the rise of a true aristocrat of this sport. Grudge may bark, but I, Gentleman George, will be the one to deliver the final blow.”
With a flourish, George tips his bowler hat and walks off with Lady Victoria, leaving no doubt as to who believes they’ll come out on top.
“Ah, yes, the tropical paradise of Tonga—a place I’d dare say I didn’t expect to find myself embroiled in such low-class theatrics. But, alas, when you’re in the presence of a man as arrogant as Terry Grudge, these things are inevitable.”
George pauses, adjusting his bowler hat as a smug smirk crosses his face.
“You see, I arrived in Tonga with a mission—to bring true wrestling excellence to the Commonwealth. While Mr. Grudge was busy playing talent scout, patting local wrestlers on the back, I was taking in the spectacle, bemused by his utter lack of discernment. The Brixton Road Gym? Please, it’s nothing more than a glorified training ground for brutes who rely on brawn and not a single ounce of technical finesse. Terry Grudge wouldn’t recognize real talent if it hit him in the face.”
He laughs to himself, as Lady Victoria Winchester stands beside him, nodding in approval.
“As Grudge blathered on at ringside with his little interview, I couldn’t help but make my presence known. After all, if anyone is going to train and refine wrestling talent, it should be someone who actually embodies the art of this sport—me, Gentleman George Thompson. The way Grudge has been fawning over these local wrestlers, claiming they’re good enough to train in Brixton? Well, I had to correct him, didn’t I?”
Thompson sneers, recalling the scuffle.
“It started with words, of course. Grudge can’t stand the fact that a man of my stature sees him for what he truly is—an outdated, unrefined slugger whose time in the spotlight has long since passed. When I told him he doesn’t know talent, he took offense, naturally. As always, Grudge resorts to brute force, pushing and shoving like a schoolyard bully, proving once again why he’ll never match my class or poise.”
George tilts his head, the condescension thick in his voice.
“He challenged me to settle it in the ring when we’re back in England, as if that would somehow intimidate me. Terry Grudge, let me be crystal clear—you may fancy yourself a heavyweight, but your strength pales in comparison to my intellect, my technique, and my superiority inside that ring. If you want to step into the squared circle with me when we return to England, I’ll gladly oblige. But know this: when I lock you in the Gentleman’s Honor, you’ll be tapping out faster than you can say Brixton Road Gym.”
Lady Victoria raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased with George’s declaration.
“To the people of Tonga and everyone watching, you’re witnessing the fall of a brawler and the rise of a true aristocrat of this sport. Grudge may bark, but I, Gentleman George, will be the one to deliver the final blow.”
With a flourish, George tips his bowler hat and walks off with Lady Victoria, leaving no doubt as to who believes they’ll come out on top.