Friday Feyt Neet "Tag Team Special"

Good evening Ladies & Gentlemen - and welcome to a one off Friday Feyt Neet “Tag Team Special”.
This is un-chartered territory for Feyt Neet, as the only BFC related Tag Team event on record was allegedly in a York Hotel room.
Like Dirk’s sexual technique, let’s get straight to business:

In the blue corner wearing matching green lycra leggings we have Gord Shepherder & Rib Noodles. With a combined weight of 52 stone, Rob weighing almost 8 stone of it, they are now seasoned Feyt Neet regulars. They’re the gruesome twosome … the pair with no flair … put your hands together for “Team Airedale Terrier”.

Over in the red corner wearing his & hers matching towels – it’s Dreamboy3000 & Owen Blackadder. They have a combined weight of just 3 stone due to lacking a spine & excessive sneaking about.
Both fighters have wisely opted for “writ proof pants” under their towels, so hopefully we’ll not have any legal interventions during the bout.
They’re the duo who need some shoe-oh … the twins who eat from bins … let’s hear it for the BBS mentalists “The Cowardly Custard Gret Big ******* Joey Deacons”.

Thank you for joining us this evening at the Sandys Superstars Quimcock Arena for this star studded show of “all in” American style play-act wrestling, with baby oil. Tonight’s bill is sponsored by Northern Angels, who will be holding up the cards between rounds & sucking Scarthy off when there’s not too much action.
There’s real history between these four – so let’s stop talking ballax & get amongst it with our referee for the night – Oldtimer28, Big Bad Bob.

Bob attempts to get the fighters together, but Dreamboy keeps running away – it seems he thinks Gord wants to have sexual relations with him.
Gord & Blackadder are finally brought together & will start off the tag bout.
Bob tells them to keep the fight clean and touch gloves.
He also tells them a 40 minute story about pit ponies, which he’s going to put on youtube.
He then asks the reflection of himself to put the kettle on and has a piss in a neutral corner.

Ding, ding – seconds out – Round One.
Away we go then.

Gord means business, he strides forward in a tent – not with intent, as he’s now grown out of the clown trousers & has moved on to parachutes & four man tents as clothing.
“Therteh six million pence we were losing every week when I arrived – now we’re making enough money to spend £700k on rubbish foreign strikers to sit on the bench – that’s how far we’ve come. What thanks do I get from you lot? None – now I’ll show you some payback”.
Gord picks up a chair and launches it at Blackadder, who ducks underneath it.
The chair is heading for Dreamboy, who doesn’t mind really – as everyone gets smacked with chairs in WWE & no fecker ever gets hurt.
Unfortunately for the Dreamster, this is planet earth and the Shackletons high seat chair smacks him in the gob, knocks out most of his teeth & rips the wrestling script clean out of his hands.

Blackadder sees a chance to counter attack, slips under a snakes belly and launches a tirade of abuse at SM’s lover:
“You’re rubbish, Gordon – you’ve no idea what you’re doing. I could run things better than you. I’ve run businesses and all that, it’s easy. I also live in a place called Cloud – in the district of Cuckoo Land. I’m a Red Indian and I can throw things through windows too. I’m great, me – but you lot are rubbish … now have that”
Blackadder starts to throw the tons of ******** he’s accumulated through the years in Gord’s direction, but Gord deals with Rib every day – so he quickly tags his partner and brings the PR genius into the ring to do his dirty work.

Rib trips into the ring, falls over twice, upsets the media and bans all people called Alan from Oakwell.
Blackadders ******** has no effect on Rib – it’s like taking drunken Geordies to Newcastle.
“Come to Oakwell” Rib roars “Come and sit with us – we’ll listen to your problems with the club, honestly”
As Rib is talking, Gord is sneaking round the back and trying to cut Slackbladders pants off so he can pop the writ in there.
Owen was ready for that though – he quickly turns around, tags his partner and hopes that his Mum doesn’t get the letter instead.

Here comes Dreamboy.
He’s got a snake around his neck, a chair in one hand, a large belt over his shoulder and has smeared himself in Stork SB, as he couldn’t find any oil.
Rib responds by tagging Gord – and suddenly it’s the pairing we’ve all been waiting for … a meeting of minds, a battle of tits – it’s Gord v Dreamboy.

The bell sounds to end the first round, which is good really – as the staff can clear the cack from the canvas, as it seems “DB3K” has shat himself, big time.

We’re ready for the second round, but where is the referee?
It seems Bob is trying to buy Gords shoes:
Bob: How much for them shoes?
Gord: Half past six
Bob: Pit ponies – three hundred hour shifts
Gord: Blackpool Tower, fighter jets
Bob: Pilley Pit – playing football with Tommy Taylor’s Uncle Frank
Gord: Border Collie, outside the game
Bob: Youtube – Immingham, bare feet in winter
Gord: Therteh six pence

There goes the bell – the second round is underway:

What’s happening here? – predictably we’ve got all 4 fighters in the ring at once, like in every tag team wrestling match in history.
Blackadder is trying to coat himself with Teflon, while Dreamboy is running away from his own shadow.
Gord is telling Rib off for his poor spelling, while the Oldtimer has fallen asleep in the piss he did earlier.

Rib finally gets the action underway and smacks Dreamboy across the face with some chains that just happened to be lying around.
The Dreamster is on the ropes – it doesn’t look like Rib has read the script as he follows up his assault:
“Have a go at my website, will you? Take the piss out of my PR skills, eh? Have that, you full time mentler”
Rib is relentless, but he’s getting a bit cocky as he salutes the crowd – as he’s not realised that DB3K placed the fake WWE chains in the ring (they’re actually made from whale spoff).
Dreamboy catches Rib with his guard down & gets him into a patented “Ultimate Warrior neck death grip hold lock” – that sends opponents into a coma, apparently.
Unfortunately for Cowardboy – such grips don’t exist in real life, so Rib brushes him off & kicks him right in his tiny little B*ll*cks.

It seems Blackadder is doing much better though – he’s got Gord reeling around the ring.
Gord is being beaten to death with a copy of his own 5 year business plan (the 1984 Beano Annual), but is saved when Rib helps him out & punches Blackadder straight in the arsehole (his mouth).

The round comes to an end with a Mexican stand-off.
Davey, who is in the front row, hears the word “Mexican” and tries to offer £400k.

What’s going on now?
The stand off is broken as all four wrestlers charge into the centre of the ring.
In a Rocky II style – all 4 of them “clothes-line” each other and end up crumpled on the canvas.
Can one of them get up before the 3 count is complete?

The answer is no – as wrestlers from the next bout, another tag team event between “Team Length” (Fola Onibuje & Kayodi Odejayi) and “The Girth Squad” (Adebayo Akinfenwa & Noel Blake), enter the ring - quite literally.
The crowd are booing, as if Paul Reid has just been announced, as it seems they want their money back.
They paid to see blood – but, to be fair, there’s plenty of claret on the canvas as the big black men bum the white boys into oblivion … with horrific prolapses resulting.

Bob Oldtimer wakes up in time to rule a “no contest”.
It’s also fair to say that they all had it coming, so to speak.

No wonder I stopped doing this.
They’re not **** enough.

Goodnight, sweet prince.
You had me at “hello”.
You can’t handle the truth.

Yours in sport,

Stevey T.

 

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LOL (dancin) </p>

 

Pure quality nt

 

Select all

ctrl + C, open word, ctrl + v, print.</p>

Quality, legend. </p>

 

And to think I'd forgotten why I love thi!!!

Tena lady required

 

Marvellous nt

 

(clap) (clap) (clap) (clap) (clap)

 

I've printed it off before you get banned !!!

... brilliant mate !!!

 

Class

 

Thats excellent

 

I wouldn't like to be thee

When Old Timer reads this. :'(

 

Brilliant!!!

 

Top work Stevey!!

 

I begrudgingly doff my cap to that one

managed to read it all the way to the end.

 

To be printed on gold paper as a limited edition in a superb quality MDF frame....

and exclusively available from a dodgy looking bloke standing near a counter in the vicinity of a club shop...

 

good un! nt