The final WWE pay-per-view of 2017 is sort of the wrestling equivalent of working in retail on Christmas Eve. You reckon you should be finished until the new year, but there's still this one last agonising hurdle to get over. It's impossible to care about what's on offer - and the shelves really are stripped bare by this stage - so you have no option but to tough it out. And, er, review it the next day. Perhaps this analogy is personal.
Either way, it's undeniably crap. They haven't even bothered giving it a festive name, like the Christmas Cracker or SantaSlam. What's the point? Heck, even December to Dismember would have done - Lord knows about as many people will buy it! But no, it's just plain ol' gibberish 'Clash of Champions', still hating on the definite article. It wouldn't be so bad if champions were actually clashing, but they're not. WrestleFestive? Snow Mercy? Come on guys, look what you missed out on.
Anyway, sh*te name or not, it's unfortunately happening, which means one of us has to pluck out predictions as though lucky coins in a Christmas pudding. One thing is for sure: like Jesus' birthday, it's stuff we've all seen before. Who'll end the night wearing paper crowns and who'll be passed out on the sofa this time around?
Benjamin was born in 1987, and is still not dead. He variously enjoys classical music, old-school adventure games (they're not dead), and walks on the beach (albeit short - asthma, you know).
He's currently trying to compile a comprehensive history of video game music, yet denies accusations that he purposefully targets niche audiences. He's often wrong about these things.