Vince McMahon is not dead. Well, not at time of writing.
If you're reading this and he is, then please consider this a loving tribute to the man's mythical picadillos rather than some sort of tragicomic obituary. To be honest, if he legitimately has shuffled off this mortal coil as you're reading this, there's probably more to worry about about the stare of the coil itself - how are you reading this? How is reading still part of wider communication? How has the world finally conspired to book an ending to the Vince McMahon Vs Death streak he'd kept going all those years?
The Chairman - like his own incredible mother and every single one of his dated booking strategies - somehow survives to this day, having lived about 14 different lives in the one he's been given. Like all elder statesmen that have seemingly seen and done it all several times over, he's most likely not that enthused about reliving his past, which is just one of the reasons us urchins will never be given the definitive tome on him whilst he's still breathing and (not) sneezing, and why some of wrestling's biggest questions will never have definitive answers.
Square eyes on a square head, trained almost exclusively to Pro Wrestling, Sunderland AFC & Paul Rudd films. Responsible for 'Shocking Plans You Won't Believe Actually Happened', some of the words in our amazing Wrestling bookazines (both available at shop.whatculture.com), and probably every website list you read that praised Kevin Nash.