Mokus had been very excited about this day, he had been motivated to give back to his community, stealing nuts from everyone's trees made him feel he had something to compensate for. As he had been having a vision of a big competition, with many fierce contestants, all with the stalwart resolve to be on the highest peg of the podium when all smoke had lifted from the fighting arena.

As he hopped from 1 fence post to the next, inspecting the arena from a high vantage point. He saw the contractor swiping the main battlefield square in which the action would take place initially before the more secret hiding holes would be found and targeted. He chittered happily, all seemed in good order and he had seen under the cloak of darkness most of the teams set up their hidey holes already. Only a few last bits of preparation were left, and the competition could start.

He looked over to the broadcaster booth, he had to have it enlarged compared to his initial designs, Gary was a big boiiiii and he had demanded a pantry to keep his snacks (read bananas) for his comfort as he'd be studying the battle each day for many hours without any breaks. He hoped the booth wouldn't be too stinky from the ape's discharges that inevitably would find their way to the floor too.

Mokus looked at the referee notes, he was ready for it. He sent out a final reminder to the patrons as well and the contestants on their rights but also the limitations to what the competition would allow, he hoped people would read it well, he was not gonna allow cheating that wasn't allowed. Luckily for the contestants rules were sparse, and double-crossing encouraged hahahah.

Finally, he put down the countdown clock, that would tick away and would reach 00:00:00 at Jan 13th, 21:00 MR time. Then the battle would begin!!!!!!

I must say, hearing Gary’s words announcing the contestants for the event of the year has raised a few eyebrows, helmets, and the hopeful anticipation of the other contestants.

Sadly, it’s done nothing for his own chest which continues to sag in a southerly direction at the most alarming rate of knots.

But enough of such flippant banter, let’s get into the serious business of the event itself.

Yes, Englander has already secured the position of competition favourite and rightly so. The team he has forged together will indeed be triumphant and raise aloft the cup………..I presume funds will run to a cup…………. to raise aloft the trophy and confirm his team as worthy champions.

Nothing could possibly stop us.

As for Marie, well, let me just say this……the competition will resemble a trembling row of wrecked Ford Model T’s whilst “Nuttin but Trouble” will be triumphant, aboard their Bugatti Royale…Marie.

So, there we have it. I can see a few sleepless nights, and maybe a few damp bedsheets from the competition but the Englander crew will be victorious. I’m sure of it. Almost as much as an organized crime victory with Martin in it.

The_Stig drops the mic……………and exits stage right.

After listening to the announcement from Gary, it was time for team Magic Mike to let the masses know they were here for the win. "Let's all get one thing straight shall we. Whilst you, Englander, think that a solid strategy is the way forward, we all know full well you stand no chance against the hot sweaty bodies of the Magic Mike's!" Craven looked around the audience, as he noticed a young lady taking off her bra to pass to Sven, who yet again was paying no attention to the speeches. "You are literally playing against two of the hottest males in this country. Sven has full premium membership to every high end strip club in the land! We will be be sending all the other teams home crying." He paused as Sven had now noticed he was supposed to be joining in with the taunting. Sven made his way to the podium and shouted out, "And to top it all off, we have the sugariest of sugar daddies ever known! So I look forward to blowing his money to trample you all into the dust, all whilst your wheel caps are stolen from those pathetic excuse of cars you have!" The two of them smiled and made their way back to the bar. 

Dynamite looks over to see all the commotion and take some notes down.

”Hey Faye,” he says to Faye who is standing beside him. He points to Gary, Englander and The_Stig. “Get a load of that. A smelly man with an unkempt beard is arguing with an ape. There’s another guy with a white coat there so maybe he’s the handler? Faye and I are here to get things done with the power of the city of angels and city of sin. We’ll be exploding the competition. KABOOM!”

WROOOOOOOOOOOOM WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The roar of engines hit the ears of the assembled people amd kids start crying and women stuff their ears in hope of keeping their hearing intact.

Up the road rolls The MOTOR CITY MOBSTERS in a Swiss Cheese....drowl is seen running down the chin of several of the assembled mobsters as the esthetics of the car hits their eyes. Sonny takes an honour round hitting the gas good and well letting people know the horsepower under the hood of the Motorized Stallion. He then does some doughnuts before coming to a shriching halt. 

LADIES and GENTLEMEN, Rodents and revolvermen. Your favorites have arrived  We are....THE MOTORCITY MOBSTERS

Sonny gas up the car and lets out a huge amount of exhaust smoke on the other competitors so they completly vanish for a minute or two.

Sonny’s attempt are stirring things up at the event of the year raised an eyebrow or two, on an old lady with a white stick as she crossed the road before him. Well done Sonny respecting the right of way for the infirm and partially blind.

Enter the dream team……..687 horses of V12 twin turbocharged, ported and sorted. Englander and The_Stig unfortunately flatten the old dear, and set fire to Sonny’s transport with the 900 degree exhaust from four Morrison Maclaren stainless lung pipes.

The place is alight, Sonny’s wheels are alight, someone starts to cry………….settle down everyone, the old dear is simply shaken, not even stirred.

“My God these guys have a few horses under them”….says a bystander….

Lets go for round two……….get them balls out!

Whats this now...that silly thing hardly look like a car...more like something from the future my dear Stig....no place near a classic like this swiss cheese, fresh from the racing tracks. This is the motor car everyones talking about. Youd think the laugable thing you drive was made for some scifi movie on the silver screen. Motors most be Made I MOTOR CITY. American steel for you...manufactured by cornfed american boys. Our Pontiac shall bring you an uprising as the chieftains of old.

And who is this Tory, yabbing about. You English was kicked out in 1776...You tea is in the boston harbour Englander, so jump in there and have a swim home to your pityfull country, you cant even build proper cars there....and bring some biscuits for your tea  or to dry your eyes when us Motor Mobsters mop the floor with you!

Packing gunpowder into tiny acorns was tedious business. He needed something with a little more room. So, Hans stood on the stoop of the NutJobs headquarters; checking his pocket watch relentlessly as he waited on the order of  walnuts to arrive. He was going to make sure his nuts exploded all over the completion, especially those Nuttin but Trouble troublemakers. 

Announcer Gary was beating his chest and rattling off his personal commentary of contestants, much to his amusement. Hans made notes on who was doing the most and best boasting as well. 

Did he work on his marksmanship, for true aim? NO.
Did he work on a skillful strategy? NO.
Was he relying on a rich patron to pave the way for sure victory? NO.
Did he fully understand the rules? Hell NO.
Did he care? You be the judge dear onlooker. 
Was he happy he had a chef on the team to provide decadent appetizers? Hell Yes!

Hans just wanted to blow up things so he was content to be engaged in this event. 
 

It was day 2 of the event and the crowd was beginning to heave inside the arena where contestants, Patrons, organisers and a heavily breasted ape begin to gather in the martialling areas.

Flip charts and scorecards were everywhere, and the betting was growing in ferocity within the Pits.

Englander and The_Stig sit cross legged, casually sipping on a brew of Earl Grey Tea whilst scanning through back issues of Rustler and Time magazine respectively.

Confusion and name calling can be noticed in most of the other camps as voices rise from complaints about the rules, to complaints about not even having read the rules.

The “Busted Nuts” portable camping stove had been nicked by someone resembling a street urchin, however, further investigations the previous evening revealed that it had in fact been “scoused”, resulting in all items either chrome plated or resembling a hub-cap in any way being removed which left Heston busy with the bread and butter.

Dazed and confused were, as always, living up to their name and appealing for a re-count of something or other whilst the veteran campers “The Duckies”, were still looking for the keys to their 48’ motorhome.

The scene is set, our heroes are ready, and the rest of the field is in disarray as Gary’s female assistant and runner finally gets him to try on, one of the running vests she’s purchased for him off Temu.

Cruisng past the Competitions to british competitors Sonny chuckled over Englanders taunt of the busted nuts squad, so that limey could do more than havinga stiff upper lip and scupping in tea and biscuits.

Sonny hit the gas and flipped both the busted nut squad and the nutting but trouble team the bird...Adios Losers"

Then  suddenly his eye was caugth by two figures, both standing making duck faces for the photographers, NOW WHO IS THIS! Sonny made a doughnut around them and spotted their team flag THE DUCKIES how cute. You two better get back in the pond or you gonna get blown to bits 

Grapping a couple biscuits from Englanders tea table sonny cracked them up and threw the crumbs at the ugly ducklings. Here have some bred my sweet little bird.

Turning to the crowd Sonny laughed...Why don’t ducks ever get sick? They always eat their quack-ers! hahaha 

Looking at those two duckling, you gotta ask yourself what you call a duck on drugs....A quack head.

And how about them Magic mikes...they proved to be magicians by making a disappeance trick  hahaha   and the illusion of having any skills hahaha  yeah we havent seen much oif those Magic Mikes now have we.

Well time for me to throw some nuts. and remember folks...Straight roads are for fast cars, turns are for fast drivers

WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM 

After listening to the amazing Gary announce the outcome of the first days shots, Craven and Sven both had smug grins. They looked to the other teams laughed and Craven shouted, "We did tell you. When it comes to take those pants down and swing nuts all over the show, you stand no chance against us!" Sven began to take out the two bottles of baby oil he had brought along with him, "Hitting us is gonna be like grabbing hold of my sexeh smooth body covered in this amazing stuff." The pair turned and made their way out of the crowd, whilst receiving plenty of wolf whistles when everyone around them noticed their perfectly fine ass cheeks peering out from the assless chaps they were wearing. "Don't forget to bring some tissues with you tomorrow folks, the fans don't wanna see your little man tears streaming down your faces when those big juicy nuts smash you clean in the face!" 

Craven was heard screaming from across the arena. It made Hans slap his knees in laughter but when he stood up his mouth dropped. He saw the Magic Mike boys glistening in the sun. What had they done? Lost their damn minds from the looks of it, he answered himself. 

"Yea, good luck holding onto your nuts with all that butt oil dripping off of you. And some of yous thought that Gary was an uncooth savage?! Craven and Sven won that title today, but they ain't getting nuttin else"!

Hans was going to ask Heston if he could fry up some ribeyes but he forgot those cheeky bastards stole the camping stove. This made ol' Smooth Hans very cranky. He leapt back into one of their coveted spots and retreived a very special sling shot. He fondled a couple of their nice, fat, very explosive nuts. You Magic Buttkateers better not drop anything! I am just waiting for the opportunity to wizz one of this fine nuts right up your well oiled and unfortunately for us, well exposed puckerho....oh nevermind. Just savage"!

He walked over to Heston who was picking out some sharp Brazilian nuts, and asked, "You think maybe I was wrong about the Nuttin but Trouble team?...I mean, they have a pretty cool patron...and at least they are not prancing around in assless chaps and lathering each other in baby oil...yeesh...".

Dynamite appreciated everyone talking about things exploding as it gave his team indirect PR. Team KABOOM kept a close huddle, planning their next attack coordinates. Faye summoned her Sin City luck and submitted the Day 2 coordinates and the two awaited their results.

As opened his eyes barely awake StripheGotti motioned to his partner Cadhla to send for somebody to get the limo. The two of them had been doing the usual, destroying the competition and eating good afterwards. 

He noticed a lot of familiar faces but he knew they were all simply competition now as he brushed off his shoulder and waited for the limo  

All I hear is a lot of fuss, people with no exploding nuts and a bunch of competitors wanting to be like us. (he says in a rhyme like a badass)