A British accent is heard as the video camera comes into focus.
"Hello, I am Robin Leach and I am riding in the pick up truck of the self proclaimed JBW Southern Champion and we are en route to the next JBW live event. Mr. Leonard Ray Beauregard's new F150 Raptor dubbed Redneck Express 2.0 is the embodiment of Mr. Beauregard himself. A no-nonsense, no-gimmick technical masterpiece who is not afraid to plow through the competition and only be stopped on its own accord. He..."
LRB: Man, I dunno what the fuck yer sayin'. I dunno if you are talkin' in another language or if it's that fruity accent you got. We gonna have to do somethin' or this is gonna end real quick
LRB reaches in the backseat. The sound of empty beer cans can be heard rattling until the Redneck Wreckin' Machine finds what he is looking for. He pulls out a filthy, camo Ole Miss cap and plops it on Robin Leach's head.
LRB: There, maybe now I can stand to listen to ya
Leach: My God, this smells absolutely retched.
LRB: Well hell, I've cut grass in that for about 7 years now. And it's not like you can wash a hat. Now quit your bitchin' if you want this fuckin' interview
Leach: But you called our office and demanded....
LRB glares at him
Leach: Right, carrying on. Your actions last week against Sleeper were, to put it mildly, downright heinous. I do hope there was at least a fine or some sort of...
LRB: A fine for what? For defending my property. First of all that wast the 2nd time that lil yeller piece of casino trash tried to steal a win from Ol' Lenny Ray and I;ll be damned if some city slicker piece of shit steals a goddamn thing from this country boy. Not a win and certainly not my title *pats the belt that is on the dashboard*. Now the second point; ain't nobody gonna fine Lenny Ray a goddamn thing cause I'm a fuckin' champeen. Champeens like me get free passes for shit cause we are the faces of the company. We keep Jay Bee Dubya tickets sellin', we keep Jay Bee Dubya on prime time talk shows. We keep this shit goin' for everybody"
Leach: Right, well how about telling the fans at home some background on "The Champ"
LRB: Sure thing, that sounds great. My rasslin career started really when I was a kid. Ya know, rasslin around with the other kids in the trailer park, pretendin' to be Shawn Michaels or Sting or for me, Bret Hart. But when I was about 13 years old Stone Cold Steve Austin hit and showed me that you ain't got to be a flashy, gimmicky guy to be a pro rassler. He showed me there is hope if you want tot be in the ring and be the honest to God redneck hellraiser that you are in real life. That's when I decided that I was gonna be a rassler. Jump forward a few years and my daddy, who was great with any kind of machine, winds up doing odd jobs for Jerry Lawler, the King of rasslin himself. After about a month of these jobs, Jerry had bought several old Coke machines and they needed fixin' up, Daddy started bringin' me to help him out, learn the trade kinda thing. I got a chance to start taking to Lawler and he sees my enthusiasm about rasslin and tells me to come down to the Memphis Wrestling studios at the ass crack of dawn one Saturday and he'd see how dedicated I was. Well Daddy drops me off and I proceeded to get my ass whipped from pillar to post till it was time for the show, then after got thrown around some more. Well good ol' Jerry liked what he saw and told me as long as I worked on the ring crew he would train me. He taught me all the basics, from runnin' the ropes, to bumpin', to workin' the crowd. Well this had gone on for several years when he calls me into his office and tells me there ain't nothing there he can teach me. Says "I laid the groundwork for ya, now you need to start polishin' your skills in other places" then he hands me the numbers to several folks he had worked with. So I start bouncing around tryin' to get known. Worked with seems like everybody. From The Wild Samoans to Ricky Morton to Johnny Rodz to Taz. But even with workin' with all those great names, I felt like somethin' was missin' ya know. Then I hear about Lance Storm's school up in Calgary. I got to thinkin' that's what I wanted. Bret Hart was who I used to pretend to be when I was a youngen and now I know that I wanted to work with one of the greatest graduates from the Dungeon.
Leach: Canada is a mighty bit different than the heat of the Deep South, how did it go?
LRB: Man I felt like Rocky in Rocky IV when he was trainin' in Russia and shit.
Lenny Ray reaches into his bag in the backseat and gets his can of Copenhagen.
LRB: Damn, only one pinch left, we're gonna have to stop at the next gas station to restock.
As he is collecting his snuff between his fingers Robin Leach sneezes and knocks the can out of Lenny Ray's hand. Lenny begins staring a hole through the former host of Livestyles of the Rich and Famous)
Leach: My word, surely you know that was an accident.
Lenny Ray whips the Redneck Express to the side of the road and hurls Robin Leach out the door like a frisbee and takes off leaving the host standing in a cloud of dust.
LRB picks up the camera and films himself.
LRB: Dammit that stupid lil' French prick or whatever the fuck he was. Now I gotta find someone else to interview me. What am I gonna do with all this time now? I got it, I heard that they got some other redneck runnin' shit on the other show. Maybe I'll check things out there.