Tattooed Fool Snott loses to Drek Disorder

Who says people who have a lot of tattoos are stupid?

ME.

The tattooed freak above, Malik Snott, er, Scott, just lost to a dopey fire plug who dropped four of his last six fights, Drek Disorder. Uh, Dino Saura. No, Terrible Chowder. Oh, just call him "Del Boy."

Lousy boxing matches are the norm in the world of sports "entertainment." Either the fighters are sluggish and boring, or the referee is inept, or there's no motivation for either well-paid pug to put on a decent show. Or, in this case, all three.

In a pre-fight interview, both fighters were complimenting each other! The unusually subdued Chisora actually called his opponent the "Rolls Royce" of fighters, and refused to engage in his usual obnoxious snarls, insane boasts, and didn't even model an AFRICA t-shirt. His opponent, the unbeaten Garlic Pot...Manic Spot...whatever...said he'd move slickly and win a decision over his very talented opponent. He added that afterward, he'd share cigars with Dereck and they'd all go out and party, because this was just a job and they had mutual respect.

How loverly.

And so for five rounds, these two clowns wrestled around, jabbed, clutched, and rarely threw a meaningful punch. Scott isn't a power puncher anyway so his intent was to just jab and keep Del Boy off him. Chisora, with the the better KO record, did swing wildly from time to time, since he had the idea he had a better chance of winning if it didn't go to a decision.

Eventually, as the tattooed rubber man bounced around and flicked mild punches to keep his opponent confused, Drek landed a wild overhand right. Like the punch that KO'd Price in the first fight with Thompson, this was a lucky shot that landed behind the ear, affecting balance more than anything.

Scott slumped into the ropes, clutched, defended himself, but ended up on his knees, the result of his own unsteadiness and the pushing of Del Boy. Nodding to his corner that he was ok, nodding to the ref as well, he steadied himself and prepared to rise.

But the tattooed twit was going to make sure to take as much time to recuperate as possible, and not rise instantly.

The bony-headed ancient referee shouted the count, SEVEN...EIGHT...NINE...

Scott rose up. The referee had NOT said TEN, but waved off the fight anyway! OVER.

Don't you say TEN and THEN call a fight? All boxing columnists said afterwards that this was outrageous. But...

Scott didn't protest. He barely even scowled. Because he was well paid. Because he figured he'd get a rematch. And because he's STUPID. Look at the tattoos.

Mr. Tattoo was too stupid to realize how badly this loss damages him as a viable opponent or potential champ. He's no longer unbeaten. He doesn't have the guts or killer instinct that boxing fans would pay to see. They know he's just a lazy, safety-first prize fighter who wants money and doesn't give 100%.

After the fight, he said he wasn't hurt, he just lost his balance, and looked forward to a rematch. But Chapped-Sore's manager, Frank Warren, said that other fights with more famous opponents would be coming, instead! You bet. Drek is 29, and he's colorful (without tattoos) and even a crap victory over Snott gives him some buzz, especially since it goes down as a KO.

What a fucking boring waste of time this fight was. Most predicted it would be a stinker that would go the distance. I guess one could be thankful it only went half the distance and so the smell wasn't quite so rancid.

And so ends 32 year-old Snott's career. What will become of him? He'll get fat, his ridiculous tattoos will merge, and the sight of him will make people lose their equilibrium and take a standing 8 count on one knee.