Post by David Bishop on Sept 15, 2012 19:31:31 GMT -5
Stamford, Connecticut, home of some of the nicest mansions in all of the USA, the world's most prolific (yet non-existant in this context) wrestling company and the absolute dive of a motel that David Bishop is currently being forced to stay at is quite the nice place to be when you're not being made to go there by an insane London criminal who's blackmailing you with your kidnapped daughter into becoming a wrestler. Most people would try and make the best of it exploring the nature reserves, ogling the palacial homes of the rich and the famous and taking a tour through the country lanes but thanks to Bishop's situation he was unable to do that.
On the flight to Connecticut, Legs, the ironically named right hand man of Terry Norton had insisted on a “No Fun” policy during their time in America. Bishop was to do nothing but train, fight and job-seek right off the bat if he were to play according to the rules Terry Norton set for him. This total annexing of any personal liberties would frustate Bishop to no end but not quite as much as the incessant phone calls and check-ins required by Terry Norton from Legs who'd spent most of his hour or so in connecticut yammering away on a bold BB. Bishop was feeling the full effect of the jet lag in his churning stomach as he lay spread eagle on the double bed that Norton had booked for them with a sickly sense of humour knowing that the two of them would beat the paste out of each other for occupation of the bed.
Legs: 'ello 'ello?
Terry Norton: 'ello Legs my boy. 'ow's our little princess doin' eh?
Bishop slowly sits up and turns to stare daggers into the grinning Legs who's pacing near the entranceway to the hotel room as he talks to his boss.
David Bishop: Is it Norton?
Legs: He's doin' fine my good man. Still a bit banged up like, we 'ad a few problems wiv customs 'cuz they thought 'e was a trouble-maker wiv all dem bruises. Luckily I stepped in and sorted it aht. It's all gravy now.
Terry Norton: Good. Pass us onto Father of the Year will ya? I'd like a quick word with our boy.
Legs: Right you are Mr. Norton. Oi, Bish. It's for you. And put a smile on your face you sour arse. You're on holiday.
David Bishop: It's 'ard to smile when the absolute twat you're forced to room mate with is partly responsible for ya' torment.
Legs: Can I slap 'im one again Norton? 'e's acting up and it's startin' to do my head in.
David Bishop: You don't 'ave the guts Legs. I'd slash you up before you even knew what 'it ya.
Terry Norton: Not right now Legs. Don't wanna upset 'im too much. Just pass him the bloody phone so I can talk to him. Don't mind 'im too much Legs, 'e's a bit cranky after 'is flight is all.
Legs sighs and slowly makes his way over to Bishop, arm out-stretched with his pride and joy mobile phone in the clasp of his finger tips. Bishop pries it from his hands and puts the receiver to his ear, absolutely overjoyed to be talking to the man blackmailing him.
Legs: Awright shitbreath, here's the phone. Try not to take too long.
David Bishop: 'ello?
Terry Norton: Has that oozing wanker Legs given you your instructions yet?
David Bishop: No. We just got to the hotel about an hour ago. Your little sweetheart won't buy a widower a drink, the 'orrible twat.
Terry Norton: We can't risk you getting' rowdy son. You've got a busy day today.
David Bishop: Terry, I don't know how to wrestle. I don't know headlocks from hand grenades. How do you expect me to step in the ring with the champions eh? Your idea of “wrestling training” was having two of your thugs treat me like a Punch and Judy puppet. I can punch and I can throw knees but I can't do much else mate.
Terry Norton: Wrestling isn't confined to body slams and suplexes Bishop my dear boy. It's about 10% technical ability, 20% physical fitness, 15% being hard as nails and 50% of the game is the way you package yourself. I can see people being scared of a man called “The Frightener” with some of the shit we're gonna' be 'avin' you doin' to light up the crowds. Oh, and the last five percent is dumb luck but we're ignoring that factor.
David Bishop: Look, I ain't goin' out there to entertain. I'm gonna' wrestle, get the belt and get my daughter back. I'm not muckin' about Norton. I'm on the clock.
Terry Norton: I'm glad you appreciate that Bishop. Keep that in mind for the duration of your career and we might see you earn your way out of this with our respect. That said Bishop, if you don't get your name out there by doing some 'orrible stuff and provin' beyond any reasonable doubt that you are the man to beat then you ain't getting' nowhere near that belt. Do I make myself clear?
Bishop nodded knowing that resistance was futile. Especially now when he was thousands of miles away from his princess.
David Bishop: I guess.
Terry Norton: Now, today you've got four trial matches to attend to in the local area. They're quite far apart so I've wired you some wonga to get yourself a ride. Take Legs with you and make sure he reports to me at the end of the day. If you miss any of these sessions then there's going to be some unnecessary complications with our majesty's Royal Mail service when they find chunks of your daughters fingers being sent to Margate. Do I make myself clear?
David Bishop: I understand. Send me the addresses.
Terry Norton: No thanks. I'll leave that to you. I'll send you the names of the places you're going but you can find these buildings ya'self.
David Bishop: You already 'ave the addresses. Don't be a cock Norton. Help us out here.
Terry Norton: You're forgetting one major thing Bishop...
David Bishop: What's that Norton?
Terry Norton: I wouldn't get any satisfaction out of that. When you left the Bethnall Green five years ago, I lost respect. People criticised me for allowing you to cower back into your normal life. People who wouldn't even dream of tryin' to steal the crust off my shoes started pipin' up all brave because they thought ol' Norton had gone soft. So let's get one thing clear Bishop, me messing with you is payment for the lives you cost us by leaving The Mob and you better get used to it because I lost a lot of money thanks to you. Now, chop chop. Your first training session starts in an hour.
David Bishop: It's three AM here Norton.
Terry Norton: Oh, well then you've got six hours to get there. Don't dally.
Norton hangs up on Bishop much to his irritation and sighs. This is just the beginning and already it's an absolute nightmare. Legs holds out an open and expecting hand in front of a distracted Bishop's face until he finally shakes himself of his dark thoughts and presses the bold BB into his waiting palm. Bishop pushes past him briskly on his way for a toilet break as the second-in-command of the Bethnal Green chuckles at the misery of his roommate.
Fade.
On the flight to Connecticut, Legs, the ironically named right hand man of Terry Norton had insisted on a “No Fun” policy during their time in America. Bishop was to do nothing but train, fight and job-seek right off the bat if he were to play according to the rules Terry Norton set for him. This total annexing of any personal liberties would frustate Bishop to no end but not quite as much as the incessant phone calls and check-ins required by Terry Norton from Legs who'd spent most of his hour or so in connecticut yammering away on a bold BB. Bishop was feeling the full effect of the jet lag in his churning stomach as he lay spread eagle on the double bed that Norton had booked for them with a sickly sense of humour knowing that the two of them would beat the paste out of each other for occupation of the bed.
Legs: 'ello 'ello?
Terry Norton: 'ello Legs my boy. 'ow's our little princess doin' eh?
Bishop slowly sits up and turns to stare daggers into the grinning Legs who's pacing near the entranceway to the hotel room as he talks to his boss.
David Bishop: Is it Norton?
Legs: He's doin' fine my good man. Still a bit banged up like, we 'ad a few problems wiv customs 'cuz they thought 'e was a trouble-maker wiv all dem bruises. Luckily I stepped in and sorted it aht. It's all gravy now.
Terry Norton: Good. Pass us onto Father of the Year will ya? I'd like a quick word with our boy.
Legs: Right you are Mr. Norton. Oi, Bish. It's for you. And put a smile on your face you sour arse. You're on holiday.
David Bishop: It's 'ard to smile when the absolute twat you're forced to room mate with is partly responsible for ya' torment.
Legs: Can I slap 'im one again Norton? 'e's acting up and it's startin' to do my head in.
David Bishop: You don't 'ave the guts Legs. I'd slash you up before you even knew what 'it ya.
Terry Norton: Not right now Legs. Don't wanna upset 'im too much. Just pass him the bloody phone so I can talk to him. Don't mind 'im too much Legs, 'e's a bit cranky after 'is flight is all.
Legs sighs and slowly makes his way over to Bishop, arm out-stretched with his pride and joy mobile phone in the clasp of his finger tips. Bishop pries it from his hands and puts the receiver to his ear, absolutely overjoyed to be talking to the man blackmailing him.
Legs: Awright shitbreath, here's the phone. Try not to take too long.
David Bishop: 'ello?
Terry Norton: Has that oozing wanker Legs given you your instructions yet?
David Bishop: No. We just got to the hotel about an hour ago. Your little sweetheart won't buy a widower a drink, the 'orrible twat.
Terry Norton: We can't risk you getting' rowdy son. You've got a busy day today.
David Bishop: Terry, I don't know how to wrestle. I don't know headlocks from hand grenades. How do you expect me to step in the ring with the champions eh? Your idea of “wrestling training” was having two of your thugs treat me like a Punch and Judy puppet. I can punch and I can throw knees but I can't do much else mate.
Terry Norton: Wrestling isn't confined to body slams and suplexes Bishop my dear boy. It's about 10% technical ability, 20% physical fitness, 15% being hard as nails and 50% of the game is the way you package yourself. I can see people being scared of a man called “The Frightener” with some of the shit we're gonna' be 'avin' you doin' to light up the crowds. Oh, and the last five percent is dumb luck but we're ignoring that factor.
David Bishop: Look, I ain't goin' out there to entertain. I'm gonna' wrestle, get the belt and get my daughter back. I'm not muckin' about Norton. I'm on the clock.
Terry Norton: I'm glad you appreciate that Bishop. Keep that in mind for the duration of your career and we might see you earn your way out of this with our respect. That said Bishop, if you don't get your name out there by doing some 'orrible stuff and provin' beyond any reasonable doubt that you are the man to beat then you ain't getting' nowhere near that belt. Do I make myself clear?
Bishop nodded knowing that resistance was futile. Especially now when he was thousands of miles away from his princess.
David Bishop: I guess.
Terry Norton: Now, today you've got four trial matches to attend to in the local area. They're quite far apart so I've wired you some wonga to get yourself a ride. Take Legs with you and make sure he reports to me at the end of the day. If you miss any of these sessions then there's going to be some unnecessary complications with our majesty's Royal Mail service when they find chunks of your daughters fingers being sent to Margate. Do I make myself clear?
David Bishop: I understand. Send me the addresses.
Terry Norton: No thanks. I'll leave that to you. I'll send you the names of the places you're going but you can find these buildings ya'self.
David Bishop: You already 'ave the addresses. Don't be a cock Norton. Help us out here.
Terry Norton: You're forgetting one major thing Bishop...
David Bishop: What's that Norton?
Terry Norton: I wouldn't get any satisfaction out of that. When you left the Bethnall Green five years ago, I lost respect. People criticised me for allowing you to cower back into your normal life. People who wouldn't even dream of tryin' to steal the crust off my shoes started pipin' up all brave because they thought ol' Norton had gone soft. So let's get one thing clear Bishop, me messing with you is payment for the lives you cost us by leaving The Mob and you better get used to it because I lost a lot of money thanks to you. Now, chop chop. Your first training session starts in an hour.
David Bishop: It's three AM here Norton.
Terry Norton: Oh, well then you've got six hours to get there. Don't dally.
Norton hangs up on Bishop much to his irritation and sighs. This is just the beginning and already it's an absolute nightmare. Legs holds out an open and expecting hand in front of a distracted Bishop's face until he finally shakes himself of his dark thoughts and presses the bold BB into his waiting palm. Bishop pushes past him briskly on his way for a toilet break as the second-in-command of the Bethnal Green chuckles at the misery of his roommate.
Fade.