TUF Shit… Series 7, episode 1,00,6,4999.1b

In a radical change of pace for the series, the show opens with a montage. First, the screen is black. Hard rock musics plays hard, most likely Aerosmith. A bald eagle smashes through the screen sending shards of glass into your eyes. The image explodes to reveal Dana White wearing a stars and stripes unitard with a flying-V guitar in his hand. The camera zooms in on his face and he winks, then his mouth moves with Big John McCarthy’s voice overdubbed yelling “Let’s get it on!”

Octagon girls start can-canning across the screen and Dana White shoots them all with a machine gun. A quick fade to black then back up to show some fights. Fists slam into noses. Elbows crush windpipes. Shin-bones mangle neck-bones. A guitar wails HARD. Heels crumple stomachs. All the while there will be rapid cuts of Dana White in a giant throne made out of the bones of TUF washouts, completely naked, cackling maniacally and stroking Tito Ortiz’s monstrous head. (Tito is on a leash at his feet.)

A shot of Forrest Griffin yelling so hard his windpipe flies out of his nostrils, and Rampage reading a book (“How to talk like black folk”), then two TUF idiots headbutting each other. A dinosaur foot stomps on the screen with a farting noise and then lifts up to reveal THE ULTIMATE FIGHTER branded onto a cow’s arse.

There is a brief recap of last week’s fight, which ended somewhat surprisingly with Matt Brown ripping out Jeremy May’s entrails and force-feeding them to the judges at ringside with a strangely reassuring voice. Back at the house, all hell is breaking loose as the producers of the show have decided to periodically release noxious and deadly gas into certain rooms of the house. A few cast members die but they have received no air-time and nobody knew they were there anyway, plus they quit their jobs and left their girlfriends so nobody is going to miss them.

Meanwhile, in the pool outside, Grody O’Brady has decided to get completely shitfaced. He drinks so much neat vodka that he hallucinates, imagining the pool is a pit of bubbling lava and he can’t escape. The camera zooms in on his drunken face as he squeals “I’m melting I’m melting heeeeeeeelp me!” Johnny Martinz hears the screams from inside the house and runs outside but trips up on one of the camera cables and ends up impaling himself on a rake.

Dana White arrives on a personal jetpack, melting the toes off the crowd of fighters that has gathered in the garden.

“Fucking shit, assholes. What the fuck is going on here? Do you want to be a fucking fighter or should I shove this jetpack up your asses and fry your pancreases? Huh? Fucking shit fucks. Christ. I don’t need this shit. Me and Lorenzo are supposed to be having a fucking champagne bubble bath in Urijah Faber’s face-ass crevice in three minutes, and I gotta deal with this shit.” Then he flicks the switch on the jetpack and flies away into the night.

The producers release a troupe of rabid kangaroos into the house just as a stage emerges from a secret compartment revealing Alice Cooper and the London Philharmonic Orchestra, who begin rocking out hard. Some quick cuts of the kangaroos stalking their prey in the house, a random shot of an egg frying, then the credits roll.

That’s a rap!