 |
And
joining me now in the commentary box is
guest commentator Shinji 'I'm a big
whinging twat who everybody hates' Ikari.
Hello, Shinji. |
 |
'I'm a
big whinging twat who everybody hates?' |
|
Yes, I
know. So, any comment on the reader poll
from the last fight, which indicated
that approximately 75% of the audience
were rooting for the handkerchief? Please
try to answer before going into a
catatonic state. |
|
... |
|
Fuck. |
|
Useless,
not worthy, etc. |
 |
Believe
in yourself, epiphany, goodies, etc. |
|
Boing! |
|
Wow,
I'm impressed. You've got those catatonic
states down to three seconds. Now, enough
of this gay banter, let's talk about the
fight. Darth Vader versus Inigo Montoya,
the legendary swordsman from the Princess
Bride. Where's your money lying, Shinji? |
|
Is this
for real? What the hell kind of fight is
this? Darth Vader's the dark lord of the
effing Sith. He can crush windpipes from
the next room. He's got the legendary
power of the Force on his side. Inigo
Montoya's just some greasy Dago in
tights. |
|
Well,
don't write off Inigo right away. After
all, he is driven to superhuman fighting
ability by his obsessive motivation. And
when you think about it, the Force is a
bit of a cheat. Any old twit can master
swordfighting if they're all
midichlorianed up the dilly-o, but it
takes a special kind of man to do it
while just being a greasy Dago in tights. |
|
Okay,
that's a very good point. When he
demonstrates his mighty Dago ability to
summon lightning from the air, I'll chalk
his odds up a notch. |
|
Fine.
I've got fifty here says Inigo can kick
any arse we put before him and make an
attractive set of shoulder pads out of it
when he's finished. You up for it, little
man? |
|
You're
on! I think I can see the competitors
being led into the ring, now... |
 |
Hey!
This trail of licorice allsorts stops in
this smokey basement! Oh, hell, it's an
underground boxing ring. I swore to
myself I wouldn't fall for this again.
But I do so love licorice allsorts.
They're black and evil. Like me. |
 |
Grow
some cojones, Senor novelty dildo man.
There's wrasslin' to be done. |
|
The
combatants have drawn their respective
weapons. Darth Vader with the Light
Sabre, Inigo Montoya with... is there a
word for sword that rhymes with Montoya? |
|
Claymore? |
|
Don't
be stupid. |
|
I still
can't believe we're going along with
this. The basement is going to be painted
with moustachioed gore in five seconds.
You can't compare a light sabre to a
metal sword, even a really nice one. |
|
I'm
glad you brought that up, Shinji, because
it's time for me to announce the surprise
modifier rule for this bout. Gentlemen?
Exchange weapons. |
|
Good
God! The monstrous cunning of it! |
|
What
the hell is this? It looks like the
result of Casper the Friendly Ghost's
remarkably successful penis extension. |
|
It's a
light sabre, you fool! It cuts through
things like butter and automatically
cauterizes wounds. |
|
Cauterizes?
Well, forgive me if I'm being silly, but
I always assumed if you're swinging a
sword at someone, you're not too
concerned with their physical wellbeing.
Oh, whatever. My name is Inigo Montoya,
you killed my father, prepare to die. |
|
And
they're off! Inigo makes the first move,
getting in the element of surprise,
raining down on Darth Vader with a
lightning storm of swishy light sabre
moves. What do you think of your pussy
dark lord of the Sith now, eh? |
|
Well,
he's doing remarkably well with that
plain sword, considering it should
probably have been sheared in two by now. |
|
Granted,
granted. But he definitely seems to be
having trouble out there. Inigo has the
benefit of speed, because if Darth Vader
turns around too quickly he trips over
his cloak and his asthma inhaler falls
out. Makes you wonder how he managed to
conquer the galaxy, really, what with him
being the sci-fi equivalent of Stephen
Hawking with two ruptured lungs. |
|
My name
is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father!
Prepare to die! |
|
No,
Inigo. For you see... I AM your father! |
|
And it
looks like Vader is falling back on his
usual all-purpose confusion move, known
colloquially throughout the fighting
world as the Twist Ending Gambit. |
|
No
you're fucking not. I'm from
pseudo-Medieval Europe. You're from a
long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. |
|
Who's
to say a long time ago couldn't have been
the same time as pseudo-Medieval Europe?
A long time ago is a very relative term.
Last week was a long time ago if you
happen to be a moth. |
|
What
about the galaxy far, far away bit? |
|
Oh
alright. I'm not your father. But I did
meet your great-uncle in a bar once. We
discussed quantum theory. Nice fellow
SLICE! |
|
OW! |
|
Ooh,
devious move there on Vader's part. |
|
Well,
that's why they call him the dark lord of
the Sith, I suppose. |
|
You cut
off my hand! You bastard! |
|
Surrender,
foolish hairy Spanish person! I have
already robbed you of the ability to read
a book and eat a Mars bar at the same
time. |
|
A ha ha
ha no. For you see, I know something you
don't. You see, I'm not really
left-handed at all. |
|
Oh for
god's sake. Is he going to use that
bloody left-handed thing for every single
fight? I've seen him do it five times
this week alone. He's going to end up
ambidextrous at this rate. |
|
Well,
maybe Vader should start reading the
sports page, 'cos it certainly caught him
by surprise! Suddenly Inigo has the upper
hand, no pun intended! He's delivering an
even more intense lightning storm of
blows! He's a tsunami of whirling steel!
A monsoon of flashing blade! An entire
East Asian weather report of pokey death! |
|
Vader's
got his back up against the wall and
Inigo's trying his damnedest to cut scars
in that mask of his, to no avail. Darth's
going to have to come up with something
pretty special to come out of this one. |
|
You're
my bitch now! Say it! Say you're my
bitch! |
|
Ow!!!
You had the light sabre! That wasn't
FAIR! |
|
The
fuck? |
|
I'm a
great warrior! I'm a great warrior! Why
is everyone against me?! It's not FAIR! |
|
Startling!
The stress seems to have caused Darth
Vader to regress back to whinging cunt
Anakin Skywalker circa Attack of the
Clones! This could cost him the match. |
|
Eat
ghost penis! |
|
OW! My
leg! |
|
Have
some more! |
|
OW! My
other leg! This isn't fair! I'm telling
mum! |
|
Your
mum's dead. |
|
So she
is. (thud) |
|
Well,
bit of a disappointment there for the
Star Wars crowd, but a well deserved
victory if I may say so. Looks like you
owe me fifty, Ikari-san! |
|
... |
|
Oh for
fuck's sake pack it in. |
