Martin Smith (aka the fuckin boss) – Puttin this up cause its funny, but he also attempts to assassinate my character on numerous occasions and I will not be fucking standing for that, so I’ll be addressing the various bits of this which attack me, in wee bits I’ll put in italics for funsies. Enjoy Daveys words but.
So aye, basically I’ve been telt that if I don’t start writing regularly, I’m gonnae lose my posishe to a new start. As much as I disagree with literally every one of martins methods, I have to respect him for this. He doesn’t play favourites. My Extreme Rules 2014 review is the most viewed post on the entire blog, I’m his best pal, and I still don’t have an automatic spot for life.
His Extreme Rules Review isnae even the most viewed Extreme Rules review on the site btw, this is the kinda lying scum yer dealin wae.
So instead of wasting my time watching and reviewing wrestling, I decided I would offer my thoughts on a few choice subjects. Firstly, what with my new found respect for this fanny, I feel the need to defend him. He recently posted an article about the relationship between the talent and fans. This is an issue close to my heart. As a fan, I try and keep myself removed from the personal lives of those who entertain, but it’s a daily struggle, especially when half of the fierce females are constantly in my dms, refusing to take no for an answer.
There was a lot of hurt feelings and confusion caused by that article by Marty (marticle), when it was basically a rehashing on the subject of ‘never meet your heroes’. Or do you seriously believe for a second that Martin had an original idea?
Aye…I’m the cunt not having original ideas, and you start a venture titled “The Davie Thing” two days after I start one called “The Daily Thing”. Davie mate, the kettle phoned, asked me if the pot wis in. I said “The pot…..ye mean Davie?” He said “Naw” and hung up. Ya fuckin hypocrite.
I realise that in the Scottish wrestling scene the lines are blurred, a lot of these performers are regular, approachable guys, and I know people who are pals with them and there’s no issue with that. A friendship forming naturally is a beautiful thing, to be cherished and nurtured, until that friendship inevitably turns sour, when your best friend in the world starts to get a little bit of attention because he writes reviews of wrestling shows and suddenly he doesn’t have as much time for you and he has new friends and over 3 times as many twitter followers when you always considered yourself to be the more popular one and people call him handsome and good looking all the time but you’re the good looking one, you have big biceps and jimmy neutron hair and a sharp dress sense. It’s the age old story, doomed to repeat itself again and again.
I was always handsome. This is not a new thing. I swear tae fuck, I cannae get a burger wae someone else without this cunts permission, but he gets tae go tae Justin Timberlake concerts and disnae invite me. Don’t think I’m ever forgetting that btw. I wisnae even asked. Wisnae. Even. Asked.
But seriously, don’t get butthurt at Marty’s marticle. If you did think it was about you, you’re probably wrong. Or you’re probably right. Stop doing what you do. Stop trying to get the wrestlers to like you and see you as their friend. You’re the fan, they’re the entertainer. Sit and be entertained. Imagine that Robbie Williams song wis ‘Let Me Become Your Friend And Hang Out With You Cause You’re Such A Cool Fan’? It widnae fuckin work at aw ya fuckin satchel, that woulda sank Robbie’s career back then, woulda fuckin ruined him. Don’t be a prick mate, he’s a gid singer.
But by all means so not stop insulting him, just don’t do it cause you’re offended, do it because you hate him and his silly wee beard and blog.
Me and my brother used to love kidding on we were the Hardy Boyz. We were both Jeff.
For those of you who weren’t present at SWA’s show in Cumbernauld recently, Martin and I had a short wrestling match. I gave it my all, acrobatics, sold all his move beautifully, made the kid look strong as fuck. He no sold my clothesline, and won with an illegal choke. We’ve made preliminary arrangements for a rematch in London, and he has assumed me he will take my figure 4, but it’s aw talk. For a cunt that covers up that much ae it wae beard, he’s very very scared of losing face. So this will not be a wrestling match, this will be a fight. I won’t hold back, or sell his moves, as soon as that bell rings I’ll be hittin him wae a dropkick right in his chest and I’ll be winning it. Aye I’m callin the match several weeks in advance, so fuckin whit. Macho Man used tae dae it anaw.
I have never agreed to this rematch, nor was I aware I was in the first match until had a terrible clothesline tae ignore. I’ll be in London before Davey even gets there, so I’m booby trapping the whole fuckin joint. By booby trapping, I mean I’m giving every stripper in London a gun, cause I know this wee prick will head straight for the fuckin sleaziest strip joints the place has to offer. A leopard never changes its attitude mate.
If there’s anything you’d like to see me speak on in my next column, either email the blog, or tweet me @dave_eh_rave. That’s my personal twitter, so please be respectful. I used to have access to the snapmare necks twitter but a certain dictator couldn’t handle the direction I was taking it in.
Cunto wanted me tae include some kinda action shot of his coupon in this, and gave me three options, so I decided to go with this one. A photo he got with ICW Champion Jack Jester a couple of years ago, after asking Jack for the photie in the toilets, Jack saying “Naw mate…this is a toilet” and Davie taking it anyway. A star-fucker is what he is. Nothing but a star-fucker.