Friday, April 11, 2003 - Lincoln, NE

The scene fades in to what looks like a rather seedy club.  Low lighting, cheap decorations, various dance tunes by unknown artists give the club that little extra flavour.  People of every walk of life it would seem are seen chatting, drinking bottles of Bud. Some are in suits, some are in jeans and wifebeaters. Waitresses walk by scantily dressed.

Something is a bit odd about this club.  All the patrons are men.

As the camera swings about, it is clear why this is so.

It's a strip club.

Throughout the room, chants of "Take it off!" or "Show us your boobies!" can be heard from all corners of the club.  One seemingly well off client slips a large denomination bill into the thong of one dancer, who performs a lap dance for him.

Of course, the camera avoids filming all the good parts.  Sorry folks, gotta keep this somewhat appropriate.

As the camera pans around some more, a rather buxom dancer chooses to become incredibly well acquainted with a stainless (hopefully) steel dancing pole.

The shot comes to a still as two men - the Whiskey Devils - are seen staring at the gratuitous young "lady" performing her version of dirty dancing.  They sip on their liquor of choice - whiskey of course - as they oogle just as gratuitiously.

Lancaster leaned in to Seamus for a moment.

"Ya know lad, I have to say...those are the biggest pair of..."

"Hooters!?" Seamus exclaimed loudly, perking the attention of those around him.

Lancaster shakes his head. "No lad...speakers...I've ever seen..."

"Oh right, yeah...speakers." Seamus' eyes darted back and forth, looking rather shifty.

The Duke nodded his head, his eyes obviously locked on the speakers...

Quite.

Lancaster broke out of his stare and nudged Seamus on the arm, and then nodded his head at the camera.

"FECKIN AYE!" yelled Seamus.

The Duke looked at him.

"And?"

"And welcome to the best fuppin strip club Iav'e been to in a long while!!  We're here for one reason!"

"To look at speakers you say? No...we're here to address our new found friends," stated Lancaster snidely.  "Phil and Slim...SeX."

"But first, we just wanted to take a wee moment to thank ye both for yer generous gifts! Ah've got to say, thanks for the kilt...nah, actually, I don't have to say shyte since the kilt's SCOTTISH!!! Am I Scottish??? Feck no, and thank Craig for that!!"

"I'll drink to that," noted Lancaster, who finished the last of his scotch.  "And for Christ's sake gentlemen, if you're going to give my lovely wife a jock strap, could you not have at least washed it? Or boxed it with a lovely ribbon?  I can see that you and I Seamus," Lancaster peers over at Seamus for a moment, "that we are not dealing with the most civilized of opponents. But BY JOVE they are talented! They are snazzy dressers, and, AND they have WICKED tongues. WICKED WICKED."

Lancaster and Seamus were obviously beyond intoxication by this point.  But, being British, they were able to compose themselves extremely well.

"Aye...let me ask the two o'ye a wee feckin' question...do ye kiss yer feckin' mothers with those feckin' dirty mouths o'yers???"

"One really hopes not.  But if you in fact do, it gives us all the more inspiration to get into that ring come Monday in lovely Wichita, Kansas and thwart your bottoms...now don't get too excited...what's that mean in American, Seamus?"

"I think yer referrin' to givin' their arses a good ol'fashioned kickin'...now, don't ye be gettin' too excited about that...seeing as how we both know how much ye both seem to enjoy havin' things stickin' in or out o'yer arse, so let me just put it this way to ye: This Monday, ye can tuck yer head between yer legs and kiss yer arses goodbye, because once Robbie and I are done wi'kickin' em, ye'll be lookin' at yer NEW CAL World Tag Team Champions!"

"Now now now," stated Lancaster holding his hands and his empty scotch glass up in the air - something which he frowned at - "We're not being overconfident now gentlemen, nor do we question your considerable wrestling talents.  We just find it a bit ludicrous to deal with two how shall I say - FLIM FLAM MEN, who present us with such flim flammish presents.  Now Seamus and our noble selves have taken it upon ourselves to present YOU ladies, uh, laddies, with equally ludicrous gifts.  Seamus, will you do the honour please...and 'honour' is spelled with a 'U' you know!" insisted the Duke.

"Feckin' aye, it's spelt with a 'U'...and just so ye backstards are understandin' our English here, it's pronounced the same as YOUR 'honor,' not that the two o'ye have any, but anyway...it IS pronounced 'honor,' NOT 'hon-oor!!!' Now, what have we got for the two o'ye today???" Seamus produces two gift bags.

"Ooooh, this one's for ye, Slimmy-boy!" Seamus reaches into the bag and pulls out a bottle of Viagra.

"And ye, wee Phil..." Seamus reaches  into the other gift bag and pulled out a rather large tub of Vaseline.

"Ah'm sure the two o'ye wankers will be able to find plenty o'good use for both o'these gifts, if ye know what I mean!" Seamus winks at the camera and gives Lancaster the old Monty Python-esque "Nudge nudge, wink wink."

"Now as useful and generous and PRACTICAL as these gifts are, we don't expect you to actually accept them.  Which we find very rude, yet we accept this fact.  What we cannot accept however are EMPTY FECKIN GLASSES! WAITRESS!"  Lancaster calls out to a passing serving wench.

"J&B doubles, on the rocks, now! CHOP CHOP!"   The waitress who was fair and true...although her breasts suggested otherwise, raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"But more importantly, what we cannot accept," as Lancaster turns his attention back to the camera, "is your continuing reign as CAL World Tag Team champions.  I'm afraid the party really will be over.  But surely there have to be other jobs out there for a team with the name 'SeX,' isn't there?  And by the way, why is the 'e' in small case letters? Is 'SeX' an acronym?  Is it a secret Masonic term or a code word for something? What are your thoughts on the subject? Seamus?"  Lancaster turns to Seamus like a news anchor interviewing an important specialist.

"Feckin' aye, Robbie...first of all, they're a bunch o'wankers if they think they're kiddin' anyone with a name like SeX...and why the small feckin' "e" in the middle??? Is it symbolic for anythin', like...ooooh, I dunno...some certain indifficiancy the pair o'ye might be experiencin' ??? Doesn't matter...this Monday night, the pair o'ye are gonna learn a lesson in 'safe' SeX...what's safe for ye??? Aside from tuckin' tail an'runnin' away as fast as ye possibly can...not much! There's nothin' in the world that can ever prepare ye for the onslaught o'the Whiskey Devils...an' when we're done whoopin' yer feckin' arse, lyin' on yer back lookin' up at the lights, ye'll well and truly understand what it means to 'Shake hands wi'the Devil.'"

"And of course, if we have not made it abundantly clear - these devils prefer whiskey...and it will only serve to further our drive to destroy you." Lancaster's tone takes a turn for the serious. "And we shall.  And we shall be victorious.  And until then...and I know I speak for Seamus too...I bid you...Champagne Wishes...and Caviar Dreams."

The scene fades, leaving us with an image of Seamus and Lancaster sipping slowly from their glasses, confident, and eager to fight.

They would not be denied.