Late Showing
Thursday, August 28, 2003 - the Ed Sullivan Theater, New York City, NY - "The Late Show" with David Letterman
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A chance to share the stage with David Letterman?
Priceless.
Not unlike Mastercard(C).
Short notice perhaps, because of a guest cancellation. The two were in town for the Duke's charity dinner on Friday night, at the Waldorf=Astoria Hotel there in New York City, and the Late Show staff thought they'd make for interesitng guests. They weren't perhaps the absolute icons of the sport, but they were still huge money drawers, particularly with the creation of the Jacobins some weeks before.
Backstage, both men felt as if the makeup that had to be applied to their faces was going to smudge off in the sweat and nervousness they both experienced. They had done chat shows before, but not on this scale. They tried to steady each other with quiet banter and joking, as on stage, Dave and Paul finished another successful installment of "Will it Float?"
Apparently twenty pounds of cheddar cheese will not.
As they went to commercial, the stage manager, Biff Henderson, directed the two men on their introduction.
"Alright guys, after Dave finishes reading his cue, Paul and the guys will begin to play your music, and on that, you both come out and smile, shake Dave's hand, and then you Robert will sit next to Dave, and Seamus you'll sit next to him. That sound clear? Any questions?"
Both men's mouths were dry as the Sahara, as they both nodded yes.
"Alright, you guys just go out there and be yourselves and you'll be fine. Let Dave do the talking and he'll ask the right things, okay?"
Again more nods.
The minutes ticked away like seconds and after the top ten reasons why Arnold Schwarzenegger would make a bad governor, Dave began his introductions.
"Our first guests are two of the biggest stars in the Coalition of Affiliated Leagues, otherwise known as the CAL. They are in town to fight alcoholism, and will also be fighting on September 14th at the CSWA's "Last Man Standing" pay-per-view, please welcome Seamus Finnegan, and Duke Robert Lancaster II, guys?"
Paul and the CBS Orchestra began to play a retuned rendition of "Whiskey Devils" by the Mahones as the two men walked out, smiling and waving to the crowd as they applauded, some louder than others, recognizing the two from their in-ring action rather than their outside activities. Lancaster shook Dave's hand, and then Seamus, as they took their seats as Biff instructed next to Dave, and settled in, trying to shoo the butterflies in their stomaches away.
Seamus carried a large paper bag with him, which seemed to show an outline of a liquor bottle. Dave looked over and smirked.
"Thanks for being on the program tonight, boys, it's great to have you on."
"Ach, thanks fer havin' us, Dave! T'is a pleasure to be here, and by the way, here's a wee somethin' for ye, just for havin' us on the show, and fer yer tenth anniversary tomorrow night!"
Seamus presents Dave with a large bottle of Bushmills Irish Whiskey. Dave quickly hides the bottle under his desk.
"Better hide that from Mom, before she sees it, seeing as she's on the sauce from time to time."
The three men and the audience shared a laugh. Good start.
"So how's things going guys, you're wrestlers from what I understand, correct?"
Lancaster nodded his head. "That we are Dave."
"So where did you guys get this nickname of yours, you're the 'Scotch Bombers' or something?"
"'Whiskey Devils,'" Seamus corrected him. "Ye've been havin' a wee sip from that bottle already or somethin'?"
The audience laughed as Dave chuckled. "Oh no I save that for later and before the show starts, God knows I need it."
"So, from what I understand you're really a Duke?" as he queried Lancaster.
"Yeeees, I am actually."
"And yet you wrestle?"
"Yes, I do!"
"Do you need the money or something, or are you just called a duke like the "Duke of Earl" or "Count Chocula?"
Again more genuine laughs.
"Oh I can't compete on a level as high as Count Chocula, I mean he's got his own cereal, whereas I just bounce around the ring and kick some major arse...or what do they call it here, Seamus, ass I take it?"
"Well I dunno, Robbie...are we even allowed to say 'ass' on TV?"
Dave quipped, "Ahhh, who the hell cares, we're on CBS, so nobody's gonna see it anyway!"
Letterman's reputation as one of the true kings of late night in television history was well earned.
"So Seamus, I understand you just recently became a father for the first time, congratulations!"
The audience joined Dave with a congratulatory round of applause for the Irish Lucifer.
Seamus replied, "Ach, thanks very much, Dave. Aye, I just became a daddy to a wee lad, Nathaniel Owen Finnegan, who right now is at home, keeping his Mum busy most likely."
"Oh, so do you think they might be watching the show right now?"
"Only if Becca's tryin' to get him to sleep, Dave!"
The audience roared with laughter, as Dave made a slight cringe.
"Perhaps you should take a sip of that beautiful stuff right now Dave," suggested Lancaster. "Don't you want to see him chug a bit," he asked the audience. Of course the crowd roared approval as Dave hesitated a bit. He shrugged and pulled the bottle out, and undid the cap, and took a small swig, much to the delight of the two Brits.
"Keep drinking that stuff Dave and you'll be speaking with an accent like us, they're not natural, they're just a result of constant boozing."
Dave wiped his lips and looked at Lancaster. "Aren't you hosting some sort of anti-alcoholism dinner tomorrow night?"
The crowd laughed as Lancaster turned decidedly red, realizing his gaffe.
"Yes, I am actually, to be serious and to [saying the following quickly] change the topic..." Lancaster shifted in his chair.
"I'm in town to host it at the Waldorf=Astoria Hotel, with Seamus who has graciously agreed to co-host it, in order to fight alcoholism here in the United States and abroad too."
"Aye, just not in Northern Ireland though..."
"Not in Northern Ireland?" Dave repeated.
Seamus grinned sheepishly. "Aye, well they'd probably lynch me! But in all seriousness, this is a cause we both feel strongly 'bout, seeing as it's affected both our lives, so we're hopin' that it'll do a world of good for all the people out there fightin' it."
The crowd clapped loudly in light of Seamus' honourable words.
"Well you also have a big show coming up too I understand."
"Aye, we have another pay-per-view event coming up in a few weeks, CSWA Last Man Standing!"
"What's that, sounds pretty brutal..."
"Aye it will be lad...and the winner of that will get a shot at the champion!"
"Oh you're not champion?"
"No, neither one of us is Dave," replied Lancaster.
Dave looked over at his producer. "Then why are they on the show?" The crowd snickered as Seamus got up from his seat slightly and motioned at Dave with a finger.
"Because YE need the ratings, Dave!" Letterman laughed as did Paul in his trademark fashion.
"But before either of get to that we have to go through 187 first this coming week...they've been thorns in our sides for a few weeks now, and it's just a matter of time before we uh, take care of business."
Dave pursed his lips and leaned his head forward. "Yeesh you guys sound like mafia guys or something."
"All in a day's work, Dave! It's a dog eat dog world in our business, an' it's all about takin' care o'business...that's what the Jacobins are all about!"
"The Jacobins?" Dave asked.
"Our little group of guys who well, get anyone who is in our way, so yes, uh, I guess we are like the mafia, so if it's all good with you Dave, we could take the money now, or else see you behind the theater after the show's over, whatever is easiest for you." Lancaster looked over at Dave, mouth agape slightly, feigning threatening eyes.
Dave gulped jokingly, "Isn't it time for a commercial yet?"
"Oh it is!" Dave smiled again jokingly.
"Lucky for you," Lancaster motioned for something in his coat pocket, but pulls his hand out, again eliciting some laughs.
"Well I'd like to thank you both for coming on the show, and to remind everyone that's CSWA Last Man Standing on September 14th on pay-per-view, and they can catch Wildfire! live every week. Seamus Finnegan and Robert Lancaster everybody, [the crowd applauded as the two men nodded and smiled] we'll be right back folks."
The band revved up again and played as Dave leaned over and shook both men's hands, ending the segment. As they were cleared for commercial, Letterman stood up and both Seamus and Lancaster followed suit, and walked back stage. Biff thanked them for their appearance, and invited them to the green room for refreshments. The duo declined, stating they had previous dinner engagements. Of course, that meant liquor and food at one of New York's finest pubs, an activity they hadn't engaged in since their days as World Heavyweight Tag Team Champions.
Thursday, August 28, 2003 - McSorley's Ale House, 15 East 7th Street, NewYork City, NY
They made an excellent choice in regard to the
selection of a public house. McSorley's was 147 years old and even
brewed their own beer. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, and after
the turmoil of the past Wildfire - where the Jacobins exposed their souls
- where Ripper Longshanks nearly singlehanddedly took them apart - where Quinn
Tate and 187 reasserted themselves - it was time to relax, before the long
night that was ahead tomorrow, and for the following Wildfire.
Dinner and drinks were in order, and of course,
the chat was as varied as the people mingling in one of New York's finest
public houses.
They were served their Guinnesses by a woman who
struck a nerve with Lancaster, a woman who looked remarkably like Kathy,
from Las Vegas - the barmaid who set up Lancaster in the tabloids and helped
to ruin his marriage.
Lancaster sulked and sipped his Guinness.
"Love sucks, eh lad...well,"
putting his hands up, "for me at least." Robert
smiled.
"Ach lad," Seamus replied
while taking a sip from his Guinness, "what's on yer
mind?"
"Nothing," sighed Lancaster.
"Just pining for Stephanie...my bed is deserted,
my heart empty...I haven't even had the desire to try and date again. THAT
is an art I'll need to pick up again."
"Ach, lad, ye've been through a hell of alot this
past year...it's perfectly understandable."
He shrugged. "I suppose
so...and to be honest, I'm hoping this dinner tomorrow night will raise more
than just funds for charity, if ya get my drift!"
Nudge nudge, wink wink!
"Ahhhhhh..." Seamus
replied knowingly, "yer hopin' some new [making
quotation marks with his fingers] 'investors' will
come along an'help [making quotation marks again] 'raise yer stock', if ye know what I mean."
Lancaster snickered happily.
"Couldn't hurt now could it!?"
Seamus snickered back
"Nay, not at all, lad...not at all! But ah'll tell
ye what DOES hurt...my glass, it's empty!"
Lancaster's eyes gazed widely at his glass.
"For Christ's sake Seamus
we were just served!! I hope yer as thirsty for blood against Tate and that
other bastard come Wildfire!"
"Oh, ye know I will be, lad...ye know I will be..." Seamus chuckled sadistically, as he signalled the waitress for another drink.
"You know though...they're
going to be one helluva challenge...no holding back on their part, and none
on ours either. And we have to keep our asses covered [Lancaster
downs a sizeable amount of his Guinness] in case Ripper
and his little group of evil scouts decide to show their faces."
"Ach, well, if that's the
case...[Seamus balled his right hand into a fist, and smacked his
open hand]...then ah'll be ready...an'so'll my associate,
Mr. Shillelagh...believe me, there's nothin' he'd love more than to crush
a few skulls...isn't that right, Mr. Shillelagh?"
Seamus held up his shillelagh and once again put on the ol' "Mr. Shillelagh"
voice, right as the waitress brought the Irishman's second drink.
"Feckin' aye!!! Crushin' skulls kicks feckin' arse!!!"
Seamus went back to his normal voice.
"Ye see, we've got nothin' to worry about...we got Mr. Shillelagh watchin'
our back...failin' that, ye can bet yer arse that ol'Scythie an'Wright'll
nay be too far behind."
Lancaster nodded as the waitress chuckled and left.
"I hope you're right Seamus...Jacobins have to
start off strong...and we have to make an example of those bastards in 187...and
then...and then [Lancaster's eyes narrowed] I
can only hope I can get my hands around the throat of Longshanks [Robert
squeezed his Guinness glass] and squeeze it until it
breathes no longer...[Lancaster looks up] Sounds
fun doesn't it."
Seamus grinned sadistically, yet again.
"Aye, sounds like ALOT o'fun, lad...an'the best part
is...there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it."
"And how bout 'Last Man Standing' lad...ye hoping
for a berth in it too? That'd mean kicking the Authority's ass and
others in one single night..."
His sadistic grin grew even larger.
"Lad...there's not a damn thing in the world I'd rather
do than to have the chance to destroy each an'every last goddamned one o'those
sorry bastards...one by one. Aye, yer damn right ah'd love a berth in the
'Last Man Standing' match. Ah've done alot o'things in my career, but ah've
never been a top level champion...ah'd love the chance to end that draught,
believe me!"
The Duke raised an eyebrow.
"I can second that. We've
come so close, both of us...and I think it's time we smashed that draught
forcefully. But I should say lad...if you cross my path...I will take
you out."
Lancaster smiled and drank the last of his Guinness,
awaiting what Seamus would say. He looked at his colleague with a huge
smirk, as Seamus only nodded his head with an equally big smile.
"I wouldn't expect any less from ye...likewise,
ye can't expect any less from me, either...still...when all's said an'done,
when the dust settles, it doesn't matter if it's ye, me, Scythe Meister,
or Wright...bottom line, lad...the Jacobins WILL reign over all...one way
or another."
"Well then I suggest a toast...to
the destruction of the Darkness...to the downfall of 187...to the dawn of
new heros, new champions...and to the new dominating force in wrestling...libertas
an mortis, lad..."
"Aye, libertas an mortis...an'if they don't
like that..."
