So there I am, yeah, only five minutes home after flyin’ round the whole bleedin’ world for them fookin press conferences. I’m about to get into me 24 Carat Chinese Silk Superman pajamas and throw me feet up in the McMansion, when the phone rings. Who’s on the line only Ramzan bleedin’ Kadyrov! I’m there, Ramadan Whozakov? It turns out he’s only a bleedin’ WARLORD and an MMA promoter. So he tells me he’s made a “gentlemen’s agreement” with Dana for a deathmatch between the UFC and his team and he wants me to come over and train them for a day! The chap’s a dictator over in Azerbaijan or somewhere and he’s pals with all these knobheads – Tyson, Mayweather, even yer man Chris Weidman, that dope who got lucky when The Spider was his way out. And wait’ll ya hear this, Khabib, the lad who had a scrap with a pack of wolves – he’s Kadyrov’s little fookin lovechild! They done a genetics test and ev’ryting.