WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC LANGUAGE.
If you are easily offended please leave this page, you big fuckin’ baby.
Part One of this two part report will be handled by none other than
The Human Tornado, Petey Wheatstraw the Devil’s Son-in-Law, The Avenging
Disco Godfather himself… DOLOMITE aka Rudy Ray Moore.
This World’s Toughest Mudder report is like one,
Your silly ass aint NEVER read before,
Cuz it’s gonna be laid down DOLOMITE-style,
It’s MustacheMan meets the late, great Rudy Ray Moore.
If you don’t know who the fuck I am,
You’d best watch the video below,
And educate yourself about the BADDEST muthafucker,
Known to man, women, child AND ho.
This year at WTM Big Mudder switched things up a bit,
The kids from Brooklyn came up with a new scheme,
Along with individual man and individual women,
They added a category for some muthafuckin’ teams.
Last year MustacheMan did SHITTY,
And his sorry ass dropped after one lap,
But with the support of the right guys,
He could give WTM a Five-ring studded, backhanded PIMP Slap.
The first member was JASON,
Last year’s fourth place finisher back for more.
He brought along his younger brother DON,
Who is small in stature and muthafuckin’ HARDCORE.
Next came JON and BEN,
Two STONE COLD, pimped out freaks.
They were mates from merry old England,
And had strength and endurance to last for weeks.
Lastly came the MUSTACHEMAN,
And his main man RAMON.
With this rock solid group of MACK DADDIES,
They were set to bring that shiny-ass trophy home.
Training began in the Spring,
Half Marathons, Marathons, Ultras, and Kettlebells,
Bear crawls, pullups, pushups, battle ropes,
Plyo, cardio, and all that shit made them HARD as hell.
The team needed a name so they called on the Brits,
What is the biggest SHITHOLE of a town your country did see?
They thought back to their rain-soaked homeland,
And the biggest waste of concrete that was a place called Coventry.
“THE LORDS OF COVENTRY!” they cried,
As they all raised a glass.
There was now no doubt in the world,
They would kick WTM on it’s MUTHAFUCKIN’ ASS.
November came quickly,
And the temperatures soon dropped.
Although it wasn’t as cold as last year,
Many WTM virgin’s hypothermia cherry would surely be popped.
The team rolled up on the event registration,
With the L.O.C. Jolly Roger flag waving and causing all kinds of grief.
With THIS RUN-DMC jam on the car’s speakers,
Played so LOUD it would rattle your muthafuckin’ teeth.
With custom jerseys and Rugby ball in hand,
They got to the front of the line ready to start this shit.
Signed waivers, got their bibs,
And set their tents up in that cold-ass pit.
They got some grub, hit the hotel and watched a movie (Kick Ass),
Slept good and woke up to man asses gassin’,
Grabbed a sandwich and a bagel,
And put on their gear watching “Ninja (Fuckin’) Assassin”.
At the race everyone jammed in at the starting line,
And they spotted WTM alumni Joel Gat.
Something seemed strange about the kid,
He was sober as a priest on Sunday, what the fuck’s up with that?
Startline Sean gave the call and over 1200 crazies,
Crashed through that big old blow up gate.
Would the Lords of Coventry live up to the hype,
Or turn out to be a team who’s already too late?
Cick HERE for part two, BITCH.