WWE TLC 2017: Review

TLC 2017
WWE

Thankfully for the bungling camera crew, the action devolved into a more methodical in-ring beat-down which resembled the end of every Nitro ever. Like all heels, the cruel quintet decided to fanny about instead of finishing the job, taking their opponents up the aisle as the long-dreamed-for Duke Droese comeback looked set to materialise. That turned out to be garbage, and the nasty lads' Arsenal-esque inability to see their opponents off nearly ended in calamity after Kane saw red and assaulted his own man. You just can't trust the Big Red Machine - but do vote for him. The commentary team, apparently in another time zone, were totally dumfounded at Kane's turnaround, despite it being signposted throughout the match more clearly than a National Trail ramble.

The former dentist then buried Braun under a rain of a thousand chairs, and luckily there was a camera in situ to capture this unlike all the other key moments. The poor lad was then hoyed into a trash compactor, crushed alongside all suspension of disbelief. Still, even with the monster no longer amongst men, it seemed like a matter of time before the heels finished the job. But not if a knackered middle-aged man had anything to say about it! Between Kurt and Shane, 40-something authority figures are the hardest men in WWE. Angle proved his leathery toughness, battling back down to ring and flinging everyone in his way out of his way. It seemed a step too far when Miz caught him with his Skull-crushing Finale, only to be thwarted at the last second. An obviously pointless complaint to the ref helped nothing, having just maimed his boss, meaning his was pretty much buggered. As expected, The Shield sent him packing with the triple powerbomb we expected a fortnight ago, some parts altered. Given Kurt's reaction, you wonder how Roman Reigns can slip back into the trio?

The journey from dumbwaiter to dinner table was a long one for TLC's main courses, but they didn't leave anyone wanting desert. The sense of contentment could easily be regurgitated in the ensuing fallout, but for now, we can all eructate with fulfillment. Compliments to the chef.

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Editorial Team
Editorial Team

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.