Last November, WWE announced to their long-suffering, content-stuffed fans that 2018's PPV schedule would be trimmed down from a fatty 16 to a much healthier, lean 14. The fact this news was met with considerable relief spoke volumes of the company's errant 'super-serving' policy.
As the year wore on - and even when WWE decided to scrap single-branded shows after noticing they were complete arse - it became clear our optimism was misplaced. A sketchy deal with the Saudi Arabian General Sports Authority suddenly generated the possibility of a handful of fresh, context-free shows, each of which threatened to run for a minimum of seven hours. They were mirrored with an admittedly scandal-free but equally arduous additional event in Australia.
As an apology for the female-free Saudi sideshow, we were also gifted the much-welcomed Evolution, the company's first-ever all women PPV. Despite slashing three dates from the original schedule, we were still left with a single show surplus. It was, as they say, all a bit much.
With so much content, the quality was always going to be inconsistent - and boy was it. Some PPVs left us in love with wrestling again - whilst others made us never want to associate with it again. Most interestingly, the PPVs which ended on the biggest high all had one thing in common - and it wasn't DX or the Brothers of Destruction.
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.