From the desk of Mr. Daniels..

[Lewis Saffin]

Bourbon Introduction

"O, from the time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!"

Those are the immortal words of William Shakespeare's Prince Hamlet and, as so often in life, the Bard's literature embodies my current emotions. I am, as many known, an Oxford alumnus. I graduated with a double first in European Law. I am heir to the Daniels Manor in deepest Buckinghamshire and I am extraordinarily wealthy.

Therefore, it has often been asked of me, following my graduation from Oxford University, what possessed you to abandon your esteemed upbringing and endeavour to make something of a living from the world of combat syndicates? Why, with a double first in European Law, would you turn your back on a guaranteed position within the upper echelons of European society and choose to take such a risk as to become a professional martial artist? Is not violence morally incorrect?

I would answer such enquiries thus. As a twenty-three year-old from a grandiose manor in leafy Buckinghamshire, the world was, as they say, 'my oyster'. This oyster offered two plausible choices: satisfy one, namely Jacques Rogge of the European Union, in a mind-numbing office job; turning the rusty wheels of bureaucracy and (for want of better phrase) fellating a fundamentally flawed system; or satisfy thousands, namely the fans of the World Kombat Syndicate, in an enthralling job; casting a memorable legacy and setting an example for people around the world.

I am neither a fan of, nor a detractor from, the issue of violence. On well-meaning terms, it is the litmus paper which determines our place, in terms of physical stature. To be trained in offensive and defensive techniques is to be equipped against the world. It is for this reason that I have a clear conscience when training and fighting.

And, with that, I come to the subject of my opponent this week, Frank Shamrock. Everyone who fights this week is making their World Kombat Syndicate debut and everyone begins on a level playing field. This is to say that Frank Shamrock, a man for whom I have limited respect, is equal to me. This is debatable, at best. This man has been dragged up by his hind legs in a poor region of California and, presumably, has done many things that he regrets in his life. Facing up to me is surely the greatest. If I were to return to London with Frank Shamrock, whose career will end on Saturday, and set up my own law firm – as I plan to do – Mr. Shamrock would be a menial worker.
It is commonly said, “xyz couldn’t lace my boots.” By Saturday ght, Shamrock will be doing well to own the thread that makes the laces.