Older fans will remember when quarter-hour ratings were kingmakers, but the weekly Tuesday afternoon numbers release has gradually become the contemporary destination for discerning fans looking to again add value to an argument that WWE's primary offering is objectively the worst it has ever, ever been.
One would be forgiven for losing count of the amount of times Raw has brokenlowviewerrecordsinrecentmonths. There's factors - there are always f*cking factors - but the trends exposed by these figures are lasting longer than before. The audience drop off is damning looking exclusively at viewcounts, but the million or so sacking off WWE television in the last two years alone is even harsher as a percentage of their overall fanbase.
It's occasionally unclear what exactly separates one week from another, beyond aforementioned extraneous such as this week's NBA Championship Game Five competition. Or Monday Night Football's annual assault on the audience. Or anything else the gang in Stamford dream up to awkwardly wedge in front the obvious criticism that it's simply not compelling television.
What separated this week's show from the rest was quite remarkable, and not something obviously apparent on screen.
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.