Resolutions. The new year brings with it many things. It brings an end to the holiday season. An end to the forced smiles and pained "merriment" thrust upon us by social convention. The new year brings hope. A new beginning. It brings confidence and inspiration. It brings the belief that if you put your mind to it you can change. You can become better. In essence, it brings self-delusion. See, I know you. I know every single one of you. Whilst I stood with my family on a raining Melbourne night just to watch my daughter's face as the New Years' fireworks exploded in the sky you people were out getting drunk. Getting high. Getting clumsy handjobs from drunken ringrats. And in the midst of all this debauchery you were making resolutions. You were making grand plans and big statements. You were announcing to everyone around you "This year will be different!" You were telling everyone how you'd take up that class you always wanted to or you'd ask out that woman you'd been too afraid to approach. You told everyone you'd become TWD champion. You barfed out your greatest hopes and dreams and with the false hope of New Years' Eve, you actually believed that all of this was possible. It's not. The calendar ticking '10 doesn't make you suddenly more capable of success. If anything it makes you less so. You're one more year past your prime. One more year closer to death. It may be a New Year but you're still You. And I'm still me. The Virtuoso of Violence. Australia's Greatest Export. You're Undefeated World Champion, Jamie Krenshaw. As the sordid abortions I strain to call my "peers" in TWD got drunk and hopeful, I rested nicely with my family and afforded myself a small grin. My only New Years Resolution: to continue dashing all of your hopes. And it begins this Sunday at Showdown. The first Showdown of Twenty-Ten. The first title defense in what will be a very, very long TWD World Title reign. And my opponent? The very epitome of self-delusion, the New Years' spirit: Dragzilla. Dragz has lashed out over the past week saying some incredibly tasteless things. Horrible words about my wife and my child. Doing this, I assume, to try and throw me off my game. To make me angry and thus prone to making the odd mistake. It's a neat strategy, Dragz, but it's not going to work on me. See, I don't care what you say about my family. I don't care what you think of them. Frankly, I don't care what you say or think about anything. It's slightly amusing to see you desperately flail around searching for something to derail my inevitable squashing of you but the key word in that sentence is slightly. And that's a word that fits you to a tee doesn't it, Dragz? You're slightly talented in the ring. Good enough to win the Tag Titles from easy competition but not good enough to be in contention when the likes of Krunch and Krenshaw hold the straps. On top of that, you're slightly funny. Not your promos or your various "hijinx" but the fact that you believe you're in with a chance against me this Sunday. That's a real rib-tickler. But let me cut to the chase, Dragz. You're more than slightly out of your depth here. You're bringing a knife to a gun fight. See, I've explained in the past how completely deluded you are, Dragz, so I don't expect any of this to resonate with you but I'll take a chance and see if you can be reasonable. Just think about this: Do you really believe that Jamie Krenshaw is going to lose his TWD World Title on his very first defense? Do you really believe that Jamie Krenshaw is going to start off the new year on a bad note? Do you really believe that The Moderators would even allow Dragzilla to be World Heavyweight Champion? If you answered yes to any of those questions you belong in an asylum. Some would say you belong in one anyway. The facts are simple, Dragz: I am not giving up this title for a long time to come. It's my meal ticket and buddy, I'm hungry. And you're just the entree`. Count yourself lucky you're even on the menu.

35-0. Your Flawless Champion.