Camera fades in on Clapham.
"Another week, another victim. Nathan Pellow is the next stop on the runaway train that is RC Clapham. Now, that is a pretty crap analogy, but it gets the picture across, because I'm going to be making my way to the top as fast as an express train. Why all the train references? Dunno, I was probably down at the orphanage watching the railway children with some blind kids."
Clapham sits back and chuckles to himself about the likelyhood of that. Then he stops, and scratches his head, wondering why blind children would watch tv.
"....Well, this frankly has nothing to do with anything, but everything to do with something. That something being my match this week. But I'm not going to ramble on about nothing, because that frankly would be a waste of both your and my time. I doubt this Pellow guy will bother to bring his A-game, which still probably wouldn't be enough, so I'm just looking to get in the ring, beat this guy quickly, then head backstage and meet up with someone interesting. Who? Dunno, might be Julie Craven needing a shoulder to cry on, might be Karla Kaos looking for some fun, I could even go off to the ICWA and find someone there...... or more likely I'll end up on my own. Either way, I'll be winning tonight, I'll be back next week winning again, and I'll keep on doing it until I get that vital call-up into the ICWA."
He sits forward for his final few words.
"So, in my usual sum up. I'll win, and.... well, it'll be quick."
Fades to black.