Hi, I'm Bob Holly. If you've been watching WWE TV since about 1993, you've witnessed my perpetual struggle to make it to the top of the wrestling business. It's been a long, hard road so far, and I've been bogged down with injuries recently, inhibiting my progress. If you can call it that. Realistically, I've been stuck in the same spot on the card for almost eleven years now. I can't imagine why. Especially when you take into consideration this awesome gimmick that I started out with.

I've come a long way though, and I still don't get no damn respect. I think the front office is insane for not pushing me to the top. I mean, just look how charismatic and exciting I am.

In addition to my naturally electrifying personality, I'm one of the best damn wrestlers in the company. I know my stuff, and that's a fact. Quick! Think of five great matches you've seen me in.

One thing that really pisses me off nowadays is all these young kids that come in and get everything handed to them without paying their dues. So I've taken it upon myself to teach these brats some damn respect. Whenever I wrestle anybody under the age of 30 now, I beat the living hell out of them. I mean I whip these kids to within an inch of their lives. I feel like a king after tearing apart some kid who was taught that he would be able to trust his opponents and that they'd protect him. And they're definitely better wrestlers for it afterwards. Isn't that right, Matt?

Sir! Yes sir! Whatever you say, sir! *sniffle*

You're damn right "yes sir", kid. But anyway, enough about all those brats I take pleasure out of terrorizing. I finally got a big push recently. After getting screwed over all these years, and then getting injured two times in a row by two careless pieces of trash, Vince decided to give me a makeover and let me have what I deserve. I basically came out every week and beat people up with weapons, cursed in my promos, got arrested once or twice, and began getting escorted out to the ring by security. Sound familiar? Nah.

Well, since my main event title match with Brock, it's been back to Mid-Card City. Supposedly the fans weren't "reacting" to me enough. Bullshit. Tell those truck-monkeys to turn up the crowd mics. Now I'm pissed off again and I'm going back to working stiff with every single person I get in the ring with. When I'm not in the ring trying to tear the pants off my opponent, I supply inside info to Dave Scherer. Hell, somebody's gotta tell the outside world what kind of corrupt pieces of trash these main eventers are and how miserable my, er, the locker room morale is.

Bob is my best friend! But Vince will never know. BWAHAHHAHAHHAHAAA.

That about wraps it up. Welcome to my world. I don't get pushed, my co-workers are out to purposely injure me, I get screwed over on a level Bret Hart could never fathom by all these damn politics, and nobody seems to appreciate my borderline-Saddam Hussein sadism in the ring. I haven't been this pissed off since I was in the JOB SQUAD.

Hey Bob, if things don't work out, you can always come to NWA-TNA. I'll be there soon, too... They'll treat you like a god there. Look what they did for D-Lo.

Piss off, troll.