The dust has settled on another pay-per-view event in the career of England's Favourite Wrestler and unfortunately he was on the recieving end of another defeat. Some might say it wasn't the usual performace expected of him, the weeks of silence definitely weren't a regular characteristic of his. But only he knows what's really going on.

"Finally! The Price is in the taxi!"

The taxi driver looks bemused as his fare sits in the backseat looking into a mobile phone viewfinder.

"It's time for the special one to take his custom made ass out of the slums and head back to land of tea and crumpets!"

"Hey pal, where are you heading?"

The taxi driver stops the speech, Stu-E raises his eyebrow.

"You want to stop The Price talking to his thousands upon thousands upon thousands of fans? I'll tell you where I'm heading you Michael Andretti looking anchovie eating son of a b###h! The Price is heading right to the top of company if it's the last thing he does!

I see you sitting with that dumb look on your face in that little driving seat wondering what the hell this is all about so let me ease that troubled little mind of yours. People like you would have curled up in a ball, curled up in a ball with your mouth open for your Mother's breast if you had lost the Tag Team Championship to two floating turds you'd flushed before.

But not this guy, this guy takes it as a blessing. Because without that piece of junk around my waist I can walk down the street a milisecond faster, I can go through airport security twelve minutes and nineteen seconds faster, and I don't have to feel content with a second rate prize.

Heckler and Kosh, enjoy the victory, enjoy the tag team Gold because The Price says you two fools are welcome to it, the whole damn division in any company on this planet has been an afterthought since the late nineties. People like me don't need the Tag Team Championship, people like me need the World Championship. So while you've reached the pinnacle I'll be moving on up."

The taxi driver has taken to waving his hand in front of Stu-E's face, which only served to annoy him. Again he raises an eyebrow, before continuing on.

"You heard it right, my Price Tags, the Special One is going to Broadway, going to Disneyland, straight past the Moon and on to Jupiter! But first I've got to put things right, take down Michael James for one last time. Remove that All Star Championship and exchange it for what should have been mine mine twelve years ago, the coveted World Championship. If Bryan Deas can do it then there is no reason why The Price can't!"

"Hey pal, I've got a job to do here; tell me where you're going or get the hell out of my cab!"

Stu-E sighs at the taxi driver.

"The only logical place for The Price to head right now after such a terrible pay-per-view is Havoc! Take me to Havoc."

The taxi driver throws his hands in the air in despair as the scene fades out.