To all the pubes of my crotch,
We gather again for another formality. The Kingdom is blessed, for we are about to add another pillar to our already mighty structure.
It was perhaps a year ago that The King found a little fat blond kid clinging to his leg calling out "Daddy, Daddy". King replied saying "Who's your Daddy?" and proceeded to shake him off and never speak to him again.
But the vile smell of Random hung in the air and for months it continued to irritate the King. Even as the TKM train sped along at 55km/h+ the stink continued to waft past The King's nose as if it were coming from somewhere up front. Not possible only potpourri smelling Kings Men existed up there. The King ignored it and life went on. It would only be a matter of time before this filthy rotten Random smell disappeared, as it always does.
But as time passed it did not.
The fat little kid from those many moons before was still hanging around. Stinking and rolling around in his own layers of lard he polluted the coffee gatherings, appearing unphased by the almighty powers before him that were hinting his presence was not welcome. He was of course only a mere Random.
Realising that the Fat Kid was not going to roll away easily The King decided to turn him into his whipping boy. Young, hairless, innocent. Just the way King likes it. So whip away he did. Surely this would see the popping of this ass blister on the Kingdom.
It did not.
So the breakdown continued. Teasing, poking, prodding and other activities that must remain absent from digital records all took place. By now the King could not ignore the presence of this heaving mass that had now been identified as a permanent Random pest log jammed up front in the engine room.
The King continued to belittle. The Fat Kid continued to bat it back. The King stepped it up again. Mum jokes, sexual advances, more fat jokes. It went on.
And then it went on some more.
Teh Fat Kid was starting to crack but in parallel with these beatings from King Fat Kid had been wisely investing in a solid portfolio of allegiances with the weaker of The King's Men. He first started with his fellow qualifying Random, back then known as the Giant Baby. He then moved up to bigger yet still weak fish such as The Pimp and The Candyman. But he was far from winning over The King.
So it went on some more.
The Fat Kid thought that perhaps isome solid performances in the outside world that would get the attention of The Almighty one. Prestom Mountain Classic, SKCC A Grade Crit, HCC A Grade Crit. He won them all. The King surely was impressed.
Nup. So it went on.
But then something happened. It wasn't the wins at the highest level that impressed. It wasn't the immediate slotting into the engine room at Noize that impressed. It wasn't the fact that he didn't use his teeth and had good hand action that impressed. It was the tear in his eye.
He was now a broken man. A blank canvas. Another piece of shapeless clay ready for the caressing hands of The King to mold.
And so it began. The rebuilding of what will unquestionably one of TKM's greatest engines if not possibly the best we have ever seen.
The King approved the commencement of the apprenticeship and The Fat Kid was on his way.
Just the announcement itself saw The Fat Kid shed 10 kegs which was simply the burden of being a repulsive Random.
Qualification commenced and The Fat Kid hit it hard. On the front. Off the front. GC. Sprinting, breakaways. He was doing it all.
"This is TKM and I have a chance of being a part of it!" he was heard yelling at the top of his lungs as he headed down the catwalk towards the brown sign at 63km/h.
And then it came. 10 in 15.
A once timid young dumpling was now a glistening and powerful man. Rebuilt from the ground up and now ready to roll off the showroom floor.
It is time to unleash the beast.
It leaves but one formality....
The King in TKM tradition summoned the Lords to the Kingdom's round table and briefed them on the journey to date and requested they combine their powers of mind into a total IQ of 13 and put forward suggestions for The King's consideration.
As always the King listened to dribble and found if difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff. But then a diamond in the rough appeared.
What do we call a kid who has been crying out for The King's attention for what to him must have seemed an eternity?
What do we call a kid whose presence in the peloton alone makes you cry out in fear and then again in pain?
What do you call a kid that had perhaps had a little too much Ice cream?
And seriously what do you call a kid that looks exactly like this?
It was at that moment that the clouds of doubt cleared in the King's thoughts. It became apparent. It was done.
By the power vested in The King by The King and for The King I declare from this moment onwards The Fat Kid shall no longer be known as The Fat Kid, or Lakey or Who's Your Daddy.
From now he shall forever be known as The Scream!
And in TKM tradition that name shall immediately be, in this case extended to two syllables to Screamer or perhaps Screams or of course anything else Smax decides is relevant or irrelevant.
Dickwads of The Kingdom it has been a huge week, a huge month and looking at what will be the final member of the class of 2014, a huge year. This latest is addition is one of our greatest and will assist immensely in the securing the power of The Kingdom for many years to come.
It is now time for the King to demand that the minions OPEN THE FVCKING GATES!!! and invite the scream to enter through into a world of greatness and respect and for him to now enjoy all of the fruits that our special place has to offer.
I ask you to all join me and pay homage to the man who has completed his long journey and finally come to his place of rest where he will now call home. TKM.
Ladies and gentlemen I give you The Scream.
I will now ask that Screamer take to the email lectern and address The Kingdom with his opening speech of thanks and appreciation, especially to The King who has ridden him of the demons of the outside world.
Screamer. How say you?