Celebrity "Prog" Deathmatch

Wolf Spider wrote: Neal Morse vs. Steve Wilson Or: Rudess vs. Moore

Moore would kick his arse!

“Well ladies and gentleman this is the big one.  I’m PP Penthouse for CNN eyewitness news and this is Celebrity Death Match.  Tonight we have an absolutely monumental match up, with two of progressive rock's freshest bastions – Neil “Caligula” Morse of Spock's Beard and from Europe's Netehrlands Roine “Spaceman” Stolte of the Flower Kings – slugging it out.  Rumours abound that serious differences over the recent Transatlantic project have really lit the blue touch paper for tonight’s contest.  What a fight this is going to be! 

So, without further ado, let me hand you over to tonight’s expert commentators – JC Hustler accompanied by guest summarisers Rick Wakeman, the keyboard wizard/Countdown favourite, and Mr Doctor from Italian prog advant-gardists Devil Doll, making his debut and only ever public appearance here tonight, so God help us all…"

JC – “Hi there ladies and gents and welcome to ring side and I can tell you Madison Square Garden is er well fairly empty... um the atmosphere is not that great but those who are here seem highly strung and a little over-enthusiastic. There’s a lot of eggy beards out there, I can tell you, and a lot of 40-year-old virgins, in fact the place looks like some kind of paedophile convention!  Anyway Rick, what’s your take on this crowd?"

RW –“Well, the numbers remind me of a recent gig I did at the Yeovil Octagon Theatre.  Mind you, there’s a fit bird down at the front – I wouldn’t mind lying her down on my Hammond and showing her Excalibur!”

JC – “Err thanks Rick that’s actually my daughter... she’s 14.”

RW –“Well she’s just lovely.  Praise the Lord!”

JC –“ Ok.  Mr Doctor.  What’s your take on proceedings?”

Mr D –“ We must watch our baaaacks.  Darkness will fall like a sharpened axe against a precious neck.  It is the way of things you see."

(Silence)

JC – “Okey dokey. Mr D, and I hope I can I call you tha…"

RW – “Hey [belch], wasn’t that was the old guy in Different Strokes?  What ever happened to the other guy?  You know that little midget nig...”

JC – “RICHARD WAKEMAN, MY WIFE IS BLACK, AND… [pauses] are you drinking lager?"

RW – “ Yesh I bloody am.  And what a night to fall off of the wagon.  Cheers Mr D!”

Mr D –“Don’t you call me that name please.”

JC –“Ok guys ok, let’s get on with the main event tonight – the fighters are set to enter the arena!"

[The lights dim and the strains of the Lord's Prayer begin to echo from the loud speakers.]

JC- “Oh my, my, my – here comes Morse and look at this for an entrance! The four other members of Spock’s Beard are carrying him into the arena on a cross! The crowd are going wild!"

RW – “That’s because a young girl has just climbed into the ring.”

JC – “Oh yeah, I see.”

Mr D – "[Emits a strange hissing sound from his throat] Dooonnn’t trust [pauses] HIM!"

JC – “Thank you Mr… errr … Rick, do you think Morse has got some sort of God complex here tonight?”

RW – “I don’t know, but he's got a really nice arse.”

JC –“Um... Anyway, Morse is approaching the ring now.  He looks in good shape – I notice he’s got a ‘V’ painted on his chest and he’s carrying a small tape recorder - rumours are he's going to record the sound of the fight and release it tomorrow as a live album, alongside recent releases"‘Farts 1997-1999”, and “Taking my lady up the dirt box 2000”.  Well folks, he’s taken up position in another ring tonight – the one here at Madison Square Gardens!  By the Gods, he’s prowling around like a man possessed!”

RW – “Werz the other fucher (belches) anyone for a beer?”

JC – “That’s a good question. Where is Stolte?"

[The lights dim again.  The opening strains of ‘Spaceman’ by Babylon Zoo belch forth from the PA... but Stolte does not appear.]

Mr D – “They cometh from the darkness in the space between mind, body and soul... and from a rope in the ceiling!”

JC – “Oh will you look at that!  Stolte is being lowered into the ring from above!  He’s fully clad in a silver body suit and... Jesus suffering f**k, take a look at that glitzy cape!"

RW –“ Fuchin show ov – they used to look better on me ‘specially with curry down the front…”

JC – “Well, Morse looks uninterested but Stolte looks up for this one and he’s in the ring… now!! And the crowd are going mad!!"

RW – “That’s because there’s a goat in the ring”

JC – “Oh yes, so it is.  OK, so this is it, ladies and gentleman.  The referee’s bringing the two fighters to the centre of the ring.  Just out of interest, in the weigh in this morning Morse topped the scales at 230 pounds – 35 pounds of that being advanced recording equipment strategically placed all over his body. Stolte originally weighed in at 55 pounds and was forced by stunned officials to partake in a beef burger eating spree to reach the 100 pound minimum level. Stolte was joined by enthusiastic eating coach Steve Rothery in a last minute dash round the local fast food houses, soon hit 130 pounds and was passed fit for battle.  Rothery, meanwhile, hit 1130 pounds and was later winched to a nearby hospital where reports later suggested he was sufferering from a collapsed beer breast. 

Anywy, back to the action, and the fighters have reached their corners.  We’re scheduled for twelve, three-minute rounds, but my money's on a early fatality. What are your predictions guys?”

RW – “Emerson in four.”

Mr D – “Cow, horse, horse, sheep, baa, baa, mummy, mummy, antelope.”

JC – “Glad I asked.  The bell sounds!  Immediately both fighters are circling each other.  Look at the hatred in those eyes.  And just look at that!  Stolte’s made the first move – a viscous back hander across Morse’s chops and he’s followed it up with a steaming upper cut!  Morse looks shaken, and he’s mouthing something through the noise. What's that?  ‘No... not my.. not my face’?. He’s holding his hands to his face like a girl!  What a blouse this man is!

Oh my god, I don’t belief it. Stolte’s just produced a sledge hammer and smashed it square across the top of his Morse's head – there’s blood everywhere!  This could go to an early stoppage…”

RW – “Go on Keif finish him” [he hurls a full beer can ringwards[

JC – “Jesus H. Christ.  Rick Wakeman, who was going to be paid tonight for intelligent guest commentary, has hit Stolte in the temple with an extra strength Dutch lager-filled missile!”

RW – “Bollocks, mizzed im… sorry Emmy I meant (belches) to hit the ovver geeza, Leonard Shatner whatsisname” [He hurls another can before throwing up over the side of the ring]

JC – “Oh its pure carnage!  Wakeman’s hit Stolte AGAIN by mistake!  This guy couldn't hit a c#7th in a keyboard solo!  And look at Stolte – the blow's knocked his eye clean out the socket.  It’s hanging on his cheek like a Jack Russell’s testicle.  And both fighters need to avoid that damp patch…”

RW – “Bollox again”

JC – “Morse is looking more than confident now and so he should, he’s just produced a huge rowing oar from ringside!  Wham bam thank you mama!  He’s cracked Stolte with a stunning blow.  His eye’s flown clean-off into the crowd and Morse is moving in.  f**k me sideways!  Morse is pouring lager into the empty hole, ooh, now that’s gotta hurt more than loosing the producing chair on the Transatlantic album!”

Mr D – “Kum ba yah, my lord, kum ba yah...”

JC – “Morse has hit him again with that oar – he’s rowing himself into a strong position here… And Stolte’s hit the deck and look at that face… he’s got brain goo hanging out of his nose!  God, that looks more painful than ‘World of Adventures’!

Stolte’s struggling back to his feet after a six count.  He looks groggy but he’s been handed something from his trainer.  f**k a duck it’s an industrial chainsaw!!!  Morse looks terrified, but he’s still cool enough to check the recording equipment on his body for levels.  Yep, it's still working OK.  He’s determined to get a live recording here tonight even if it kills him!  What a pro!”

[A now naked Rick Wakeman climbs into the ring…]

JC – “Christ on a f**king bike, Rick, NO!!!  OK folks, this may not be official tag-team but Wakeman is making a stand!  He’s squaring up to Morse like a crazed Sumo god!  Morse has gotta be confused but look!  He’s gone straight for Wakeman’s crotch!  Dog doo dandy, he’s ripped the testicles clean from the bag!  Mind you, judging by Rick’s initial entrance, you can see why Nina has upped and left him – that was a precision shot by the man from Spock's Beard!

sh*t me!  While Morse was dealing with Wakeman, Stolte’s moved in!  He’s sawing off his left leg from the knee cap down!  Morse is trying to react… yes… he’s done it!  He’s managed to rip out Stolte’s plums too!  And look at the size of those things, you can tell this boy is from Sweden!

Mr D – “Ooh yeah baby, oil me up and rub me down. Maaaamaaa. Ticki-ticki-tick-tock.”

JC – “ This is absolute bedlam.  Wakeman, here as a summariser let's not forget, and Stolte are nursing pain only fellow men can possibly comprehend.  and I think we can safely say that women will be playing no further part in the life of these two boys – mind you judging by the crowd, we can probably all relate to that one! And now look at Morse, bless his heart, he’s trying to rejoin his ruined limb with the string from Wakeman’s forskin!”

[The sound of beeping computer components blurts out from the PA system.]

JC – “Wait!  What’s this?  Stolte’s crawled back to his corner – and I don’t believe it!  He’s tagging R2D2 and C3P0, the gay robots from Star Wars! They’re in the ring in a flash and bearing down on Morse’s prone body.

YES!  C3P0 has driven his golden, homo hand deep into Morse’s gut… and he’s pulling out the majority of his digestive system!  And now he’s formally apologised and waving his arms around like the grease-loving fagboy he is! To finish things off R2D2 is filling the gaping hole with acid, now that’s what I call the kindness of strangers!

It looks like Stolte’s gonna win this one.  He’s trying to get to his feet… but wait… Morse is calling to his corner with what must surely be his death cries.

Strike a f**king light!!!  Martin Orford, the devil himself, has entered the fray and looks mighty pissed.  Look at the size of him.”

Mr D – “Yes, he’s really been working out since I last saw him.”

JC – “And look at that fine tight bottom.  Well, it looks like Wakeman’s fear has got the better of him.  What a steaming pile!  Satan better make sure he doesn’t slip on that.

Stolte meanwhile is trying to look prepared for the darkest of all Lords, but is probably anything but.  YES!  Orford/Satan has got him… and what a headlock that is!

And now Mr Doctor is climbing into the ring, I thinks he’s going to help Rick Wakeman.  [Pauses]  Actually, no, he’s trying to make love to him, which must be even less pleasant considering Wakeman’s recent anal blunder…

But back to Stolte and Orford… Orford's ripped of his arm!  And he’s bashing the Swede about the head with his own dripping limb!!  Stolte can’t be too impressed with that and pop! off comes the other, and that one's going straight into the crowd!! “

[Without warning the crowd stop cheering and for a few seconds are very still. Then they begin to scream in fear and horror]

JC – “What the?! – oh this is too much.  Much-loved Marillion guitarist Steven Rothery has raised himself on top of one of the ring-corner posts!  f**k me, that must be good craftsmanship.  He’s raised both his flabby arms above his head… Oh god, I can hardly watch... and there he goes, with a full body slam dive direct onto Morse’s body!!" 

[There is a deafening sound of breaking things…]

JC – “Will you look at that!  Morse’s head has popped into the crowd like a cannon ball!  Beautiful!  And Rothery's inadvertently killed all of them!  Stolte, Mr Doctor, Wakeman, the gay robots from Star Wars, even the f**king ref!  They’re all gone, lost to the generous geography of one of neo-progs greatest heroes.  And look at the ring... its gonna go! [A loud sound erupts!]  It's gone! Jesus... there’s a 10 foot f**king crater down there!!!”

[The whole of Madison Square Garden starts to rumble]

JC – “And here comes an earthquake!  Well beat me black with an orthopaedic shoe, this has been one monumental fight!!! Anyway folks, I guess me and the crew here are gonna all die horrible deaths now, but – hey! – at least I've got a smile on my face!”

RW – “That’s because the goat's gently nuzzling your scrotum...”

JC – “Oh yeah, thanks bud, I didn’t see him there.  Well, see you in hell, prog boys…

…SEE YOU IN HELL!!!”

Rodborth

Snow Dog wrote: bertburt wrote: I guess Fripp vs. Hackett wouldn't work since neither would leave their seat in the corner. Hackett hasn't sat down on stage since 1974!

....except for acoustic numbers.....

bertburt wrote: I guess Fripp vs. Hackett wouldn't work since neither would leave their seat in the corner.

Hackett hasn't sat down on stage since 1974!

Jon Anderson vs Chris Squire for the leadership in Yes!!

Syd Barrett vs. Syd Barrett vs. Syd Barrett

(He's schitzophrenic)