*** Close up.... A tall man with long greasy bleeched hair and facial stubble is found asleep on a hard wood floor.There's no noise except the slight deep drown of the rough character snoring ***

*** Ring - Ring ***

*** A nearby phone begins to stir the sleeping beauty ***

*** Ring - Ring ***

*** The shady looking man slowly begins to open his bloodshot eyes ***

*** Ring - Ring ***

*** As we zoom out the tired man seems to be laying under a table in run down British boozer. Stains glisten all over floor from the heavy night before. He's wearing grubby black army boots, ripped and dirty 3/4 length jean shorts. He has a tatty and faded leather jacket for a blanket ***

*** Ring - Ring ***

*** He sticks his arm out from his makeshift cover and begins scrabbling about on the floor next to his head. He brushes the phone to one side and grabs a dirty whiskey glass which has the bare minimum dregs in. The phone stops ringing and the now awake man downs the remains of last nights last call. He begins to cough!! ***

Man - (Coughing & clearing his throat)... Smooth.

*** The phone buzzes flashing up with a voice mail. The man huffs and slides open his phone ***

Voice on phone - Hi there Ken it's T-Bone, yeah I know your agent. You remember? The man your meant to paying & ring before you go AWOL on a 6 week booze bender. Anyways, f**k knows how this happened, but some yank filmed one of the bulls**t backyard brawls you and your mates do and he put it on youtube. I've had some fine sounding PA bitch on the blower saying Shane of the XWF is interested in possibly signing your drunk ass to his roster. F**k knows why? Your hardly a role modal and ya never gonna win a beauty prize, but who am I to say what them dumb f**ks want in a wrestler. They're sending some plane tickets out to you. Maybe you should do it, earn some proper money. Coz if your earning. So am I, so get you most likely drunk, half dead ass up. Sling some clothes in a bag and wait for those tickets. And I say this because I know you very capable of doing it, but... Don't f**k it up.

*** And on that abrupt note the phone was harshly hung up, Ken slowly slides the phone closed and let's it fall to the floor. With a few moans and groans he moves up to being on one knee. With a couple more groans he gets fully upright. Staggering towards the bar he grabs a couple bottles, but tossing them to one side as they were empty. Stumbling across half a cigar and a half full glass of scotch he smiles

Ken Kennedy - Today is gonna be a good day!