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Danny Williams (37-6, 30KOs) has agreed to defend his British (BBBofC) heavyweight title for the first time against Matt Skelton (21-1, 18KOs), the Commonwealth British Empire heavyweight champ. Williams gave Skelton his only loss in Feb. 06, winning a spilt-decision. Skelton got revenge in July 06 by besting Williams with a unanimous decision verdict. [details]
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I wont be watching this fight. I am sick and tired of being bored rigid while watching British heavyweights take the piss out of the audience with lacklustre displays. -
wow there is a surprise and the winner will get a title shot.Comment
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The British hw's have really bored me in the past couple of years; all they seem to do is fight one another...Comment
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I ****in' LOVE Danny Williams!!!! Ever since his TKO victory over Vitali Klitschko (TKO'd for three years) he's been P4P no.1 in my book.
I was walking down Brixton last month when I happened to bump into British heavyweight champion Danny Williams. We soon struck up a friendly conversation, and for a bit of fun I asked him if he’d like to take part in a bet.
‘Humdilla,’ said Danny, ‘it’s against my religion to bet.’
However, I could see his curiosity was sparked, and he soon said, ‘go on though, tell me – what was the bet?’
So I explained my bet… a £50 bet that I could immerse his entire body in jam using just one jar. At this news, Danny laughed long and heartily.
‘Humdilla,’ he roared, happily, ‘I know I’ve lost a lot of weight recently, but that could never be done. I tell you what – let’s do the bet, just for fun, humdilla!’
Well, I took him back to a special warehouse I’d hired for the purpose and made sure I treble padlocked it so there were no witnesses. As Danny stripped down to his boxers, chuckling merrily, I revealed information he’d not been privy to – my uncle was the director general of Robertson’s and he’d made a promotional eight foot jar of jam.
As I wheeled it out there was a trepidatious look on Danny’s face, but ever the good sport, he agreed to honour the bet. As he lay down, I covered his body in twenty stone of raspberry jam, with Danny giggling merrily as the cold jam sluiced over his toned, ebony body. Soon his entire body was covered, except for his head so he could breathe, and the space between the small of his back and his upper thighs. Due to the sheer weight of the substance, he was unable to move, even despite his impressive bronzed muscles.
‘Humdilla,’ said Danny, ‘that’s fifty pounds I owe you. To tell the truth, in many senses this isn’t unlike training with Jimmy – he used to weigh my body down with special weights, so to all intents and purposes it’s no different.’
‘I can think of one difference Danny,’ I countered.
‘Humdilla,’ he enquired, ‘what’s that then?’
‘Well,’ I explained, unzipping my flies with a wry smile, ‘I bet when you trained with Jim McDonnell you didn’t wake up ****ting blood in the morning.’Comment
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