Hello and welcome to the NXT review on Michael Cydrick and the absence of Adam Wilbone and I'm joined by fellow Daddy boy Michael Hamflick to discuss everything that happened on last night's show. But before we get into it, you're a fan of the sort of thing.

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Hamflick NXT surks. It's dead. It's everything that was reported at the weekend. Just nobody has told Triple H.

He's not had the email yet. He's put to be honest. They probably changed his passwords and you're not going to be able to log in and read them.

This wasn't going to be all of a sudden all change just because we know things are happening at the top. We're going to see them play out in terms of the actual output.

And maybe NXT is all the worse for it. This couldn't feel more irrelevant. It doesn't feel of the time. The action wasn't sickly good.

This wasn't a great episode on its own terms, but that feels so much worse in the context of what we now know about the changes happening.

Yeah, I mean, Jesus Christ. I don't know why I continued to torment myself by going on Squared Circle or lesser pro wrestling websites.

But I see the very small discussion, but discussion nonetheless about these shows and the reviews and I'm thinking like, oh, you're watching it.

Are you actually watching this or are you simply 14 years old? You've been told by voices that you respect.

About what you think good wrestling is and you pretend to like it in a bid to seem cool or with it or whatever.

Is this an aspirational performative enjoyment of a show because if you look at some of the booking decisions on this goddamn show, how lifeless the atmosphere is.

I just think it's almost impossible to like legitimate. I thought the show was actively bad at points and I understand yes, the action, the inner in work and the main event was extremely good, extremely good.

But I'm looking at the people who like this show and I can only picture Homer Simpson eating three and a half star donuts after three and a half star.

I think they are you're not sick over the past six, seven years of your life of three and a half star donuts. Like, gee, is that what you want?

It's not even donuts because there's a sugar rush with donuts. It's those like slices of American cheese that he just picks out the fridge in the middle of the night.

He's not even smile like at least when he's trapped in the chair. He's got this big grin on his face with the donuts. He's not eating them for joy.

He's just eating them out of habit and what he feels like is a duty to just get eaten slice after slice of American cheese until he feels sick and nearly dead in the morning when his family come down, which ironically is often the experience of a British fan watching this in the middle of the night.

The family comes downstairs to greet you. Are you all right? No, I've been watching too more hours of an XT.

Are you okay? No, I don't call them. I don't go on 70 minutes.

No, I've got a bit of existential dread at the prospect of that match. But before that was unveiled, Jesus Christ and we will get into that.

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