Victorian guy
Banned -- Cant respect a free board
Brothers,
I hope you will take up my cause and flood the IFBB with emails protesting thier refusal to grant me my rightfully deserved pro-card. Despite proving my worth, the powers that be at the IFBB have ignored my requests, and I sense some form of discrimination is afoot.
The following is a true story.
I had travelled to Montreal, Canada, (first class of course) with my chauffeur/training partner/ex-convict, Nobby, to get my pro card from the Weider head office.
I had sent them my photos several times, which gave Wayne Demilla good views of my enourmous arms, monstrous legs, and overall Herculean development which would quash every competitor at the Mr. Olympia. My requests to be granted a pro card went unanswered, so I had, in a fit of rage, taken a flight to Montreal to settle the matter in person.
As we got out of the rented Jaguar, we ran into none other than Bob Paris in the parking lot! "Bob- are you going to compete again?" I asked. "Well, we'll see...not for now....I've gotta run boys.." and with that he skipped off into a pink cadillac and roared off, the stereo blasting the 70s hit 'YMCA'.
"There goes one of the GREATS" I uttered, with reverence.
"Seemed loik a fookin POOFTAH to me!" Nobby snarled.
Nobby and I lumbered up to the front doors of Weider Headquarters and threw them open with such force that they shattered. I walked up to the front desk, and addressed the terrified looking 'receptionist' with a roar of "TAKING CHARGE!!! GET ME DEMILLA NOOWWWW!!" that was so loud all the windows in the building rattled. "Just a minute..." the young woman at the desk snivelled, and quickly picked up a phone and said "Get down here...now...pleeeaaasse!!".
I surmised that she must have been speaking to Joe Weider.
Just then, several security guards approached Nobby and I, and in an instant, Nobby had his motorbike chain in hand and began beating the guards off, screaming. I grabbed a couple of them and hurled them through the reception desk, demolishing it.
Wayne Demilla appeared, and was astonished to see the guards had one and all been dealt with. "Well, Wayne....where's my FUCKING card?!!" I screamed, then ran charging over and clotheslined him with such force that he did a perfect backflip and hit the floor unconscious.
As the sound of police sirens neared, Nobby and I headed out, laughing.
I'd given them a piece of my mind, and that night I slept the sleep of the Just.
This is unfair. I deserve a pro card, and, by God, they know it!
I am thinking of pressing assault charges against Weider Inc. for the behaviour of those security guards!!
I hope you will take up my cause and flood the IFBB with emails protesting thier refusal to grant me my rightfully deserved pro-card. Despite proving my worth, the powers that be at the IFBB have ignored my requests, and I sense some form of discrimination is afoot.
The following is a true story.
I had travelled to Montreal, Canada, (first class of course) with my chauffeur/training partner/ex-convict, Nobby, to get my pro card from the Weider head office.
I had sent them my photos several times, which gave Wayne Demilla good views of my enourmous arms, monstrous legs, and overall Herculean development which would quash every competitor at the Mr. Olympia. My requests to be granted a pro card went unanswered, so I had, in a fit of rage, taken a flight to Montreal to settle the matter in person.
As we got out of the rented Jaguar, we ran into none other than Bob Paris in the parking lot! "Bob- are you going to compete again?" I asked. "Well, we'll see...not for now....I've gotta run boys.." and with that he skipped off into a pink cadillac and roared off, the stereo blasting the 70s hit 'YMCA'.
"There goes one of the GREATS" I uttered, with reverence.
"Seemed loik a fookin POOFTAH to me!" Nobby snarled.
Nobby and I lumbered up to the front doors of Weider Headquarters and threw them open with such force that they shattered. I walked up to the front desk, and addressed the terrified looking 'receptionist' with a roar of "TAKING CHARGE!!! GET ME DEMILLA NOOWWWW!!" that was so loud all the windows in the building rattled. "Just a minute..." the young woman at the desk snivelled, and quickly picked up a phone and said "Get down here...now...pleeeaaasse!!".
I surmised that she must have been speaking to Joe Weider.
Just then, several security guards approached Nobby and I, and in an instant, Nobby had his motorbike chain in hand and began beating the guards off, screaming. I grabbed a couple of them and hurled them through the reception desk, demolishing it.
Wayne Demilla appeared, and was astonished to see the guards had one and all been dealt with. "Well, Wayne....where's my FUCKING card?!!" I screamed, then ran charging over and clotheslined him with such force that he did a perfect backflip and hit the floor unconscious.
As the sound of police sirens neared, Nobby and I headed out, laughing.
I'd given them a piece of my mind, and that night I slept the sleep of the Just.
This is unfair. I deserve a pro card, and, by God, they know it!
I am thinking of pressing assault charges against Weider Inc. for the behaviour of those security guards!!
