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Post of the Year 2017


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The small hand gave it away but the big reveal was brilliantly done.

The Cassio clock is turning, but something appears to be wrong as the hands are decreasing in size.






The lights go out, the crowd goes wild and then...




That big dong can only mean one thing, sure enough, a cast of Gregorian Monks starts to enter the arena their hoods and firey sticks and such. The Gregorian chants begin to echo through the arena.








A casket creeps towards the ring and the funeral march begins to play. DOOO, DOOO, DOO DOOOOOO, DUUUU, DOOO DOOO, DOOO DOOOO, DUUUURRRRRRRRR.


A single hand pierces through the casket and the crowd cheer.




But the cheers turn to bemusement as the hand poking out is absolutely tiny.


The casket smashes to pieces and on the Titantron it says.












Jeremy Beadle is back and he's cleaning house!


Left hand! Left hand! Left hand! And finally, another big left hand.






Shit 90's theme music starts pumping through the arena and the crowd starts putting their massive inflatable bananas in the air and chanting "DALE, DALE DALE, DALE!"




Much like Wrestlemania III a miniature ring is carrying forth our lord and saviour Dale Winton to the Royal Rumble match, but it's actually a shopping trolley full of plunder. Frozen turkey, tins of spam, inflatable pineapples.


Dale purses his lips on the apron and proceeds to do Stacy Keibler's through the rope entrance as the crowd go mad. Winton and Beadle stare down, it's the 90's money match we never thought we would see. Mostly because one of them died ages ago.




Beadle looks at the crowd, Winton looks at the crowd. It's Hogan vs. Rock, but with 90's TV presenters, but then.






Smoke starts to fill the arena again. Surely this time it's the Deadman. Well, a dead man who isn't Jeremy Beadle.


But alas, the smoke continues to fill the arena and the distant sound of chugging echos, building ever louder in its fervour.




The arena is shaking, what on earth is going on.




Fuckin'el (Father Ted)




It's a pissing steam train!


The cheers turn to blood curdling screams as the train ploughs through the arena before smashing into the ring and killing everyone instantaneously.


From a sea of blood, bile, guts and murder, one man climbs out of the cockpit with brain matter smeared down his face like a Northern Patrrick Bateman. Grinning at the utter massacre he has created.




Fred Dibnah wins the Royal Rumble...and all of the belts because he killed the roster with a train.



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Both of Chokeout's pictures in the LPW winter Bash thread are brilliant but I nearly passed out from laughing at the 2ND one.

Agreed, came here to post the Jeremy Kyle one below. There's a lot of dolts in that thread trying to be funny and failing, but chokeout is bringing me to tears.


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why don't the lot of you just fuck off. None of you are man enouch to come face to face with me and do this shit to me because you know you get fucking hurt and if I find out who chokeout really is he better watch his back because I will fuck him up and if I was tiger rick I would called the police because I am not fucking joke you bunch of bullying bastards.

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