Shut the F up, Jobber,
Can't you just do us all a favor and zip it? I'm practically salivating at the thought of getting you into the ring, so I can have the delightful pleasure of pummeling that marshmallow-like excuse you call a body. And Victoria, girl, you swoop in here like some self-proclaimed queen bee, droning on about your oh-so-important crew? Bless your delusional heart, because I couldn't care less about your little charade. Prepare yourself for a dose of reality that's gonna sting harder than your sorry excuses. Prepare to swallow those words, just like the rest of your soft-as-cream teammates already have, time and time again.
You're next,
Francesca
