The cheers turn to boos as Charlie appears on the rmap, mic in hand
Charlie: Hold it, Hold it, Monkey Man. Aren't you forgetting something? 'Cos I keep getting this image of a guy talking crap to my face and then hitting me when my back was turned, and now that little fag's getting title shots? Seriously, how much ass did you have to kiss to get into this match?
The crowd boos, but Charlie sneers at them
Charlie: Shut it you pencil-necked geeks, a real man's talking. Now, SPAMM, you go ahead and enjoy your little title match, 'cos if you win, I'm going in there and taking that belt right off you. And if you don't win, well, I'm still taking that belt, but you'd better believe you're on my list.
SPAMM: Oh, suuure, big words from a little guy. But in case you hadn't noticed, there's four of us, and I don't see your buddies from the four anywhere, do you?
Charlie sneers, again.
Charlie: puh-lease. You think I need the others to help me take on a bunch of no-good undercard guys with delusions of grandeur? I could take you with one hand tied behind my back.
You rest up, SPAMM. Get yourself good n' ready, cos when I want to, and you don't know when that'll be...I'm gonna destroy you. THAT is a promise.
