FightBeat introduces the latest in ground-breaking social experiments combined with champagne boxing expertise and infotainment - a crowd-sourced article on the greatest fight of the century, Mayweather vs Pacquiao, devised by our 60-odd boxing luminaries.

Our FightBeat experts, a veritable “Mensa Think Tank” of encyclopaedic boxing knowledge, launch into a stream of unbridled boxing consciousness, delving deep, one sentence at a time each, into the world of boxing and the potential outcomes and strategies of this most intriguing battle.

So….behold! Click the link and prepare for the best, most definitive take on Pacquio vs Mayweather ever before seen in the annals of boxing journalism.

Boxing fans finally get the megafight they have been waiting for, as Herbert waited breathlessly in the lobby, armed with a silver candlestick, for Master Mayweather to return from his Sunday Romp at The Blue Oyster Bar, where he is known as “The Foppish Dandy”. It is here that we spot the esteemed champion as he prepares to do battle with chronic constipation.

A few tins of spinach later, and things begin to move. A slow murbling at first, gives way to a sudden loosening of his lower loins and then “THWOP! floppafloppafloppafloppafloppafloppa!”, a steaming batch of what appears to be Duncan Hines brownie batter appears in the stylish platinum toilet bowl. Relieved of his fecal burden, Mayweather can now focus on Emmanuel Pacquaio, the Asian superstar he is preparing to do battle with in the adjoining bedroom of Floyds palatial suite.

The estate, a massive 19th century Tudor mansion is adorned with gold-flecked statues of famous rap stars such as Kanye West, Tupac Shakur and in a surprisingly retro display, EPMD. A former statue of 50 Cent has been modified slightly to a haunting likeness of Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliot. Pacquaio is staying the night as a guest before making his way back to his training camp in Bakersfield, CA where Freddie Roach and Shakin Stevens were having a Tremble Battle, adjudicated upon by Muhammad Ali, Michael J Fox and the late Katherine Hepburn.

Bobby Pacquaio dutifully prepares his brother’s spit bucket for the intensive training to come. Here, Emmanuel Pacquaio morphs into Manny Pac, honorary congressman and varnish-coiffed boxing champion.

Furrowing what surely must be a unibrow without proper maintenance, Manny Pac will pound both heavy bags and the very best undetectable supplements in anticipation of his bout with Master Floyd, which will cost 50 cents on Pay-Per-Hear brought to you by Hegman Corporations, in association with Real Deal Condoms, a rare yet notoriously defective brand long favored by Roger Mayweather (who sired rising pugilistic prodigy Lehkei Mayweather, already inked to an advisory deal with Alan Haymon at age 10)

We asked Roger how he thought about the fight between his nephew and Pacquaio;

“If I wuz in my nephew corner we all know Pacquiao ass would git knocked out. You know anyone with tickets for sale tho?“ wondered the always eloquent Black Mamba. As of press time, we had not received word whether Roger had obtained tickets or not.

One of the burning questions as we move ever closer to fight night is the entrance music to be used by each combatant. Pacquiao is rumored to be using “Cashin’ Out” by Cash Out, while Mayweather is expected to use "It Keeps You Running” by The Doobie Brothers.

Michael McDonald is rumored to appear singing live into the PA system to the original track along with an entourage featuring such luminaries as Benny Hinn performing a rap-dancing exhibition, followed by Michelle Obama, who will shoot ping-pong balls out of her vagina into the waiting mouth of a Gleeful Leonard Ellerbe, who then verbally strokes Floyd’s ego, before turning the podium over to Bob Arum who utters, “reeeeeeal classy, Leonard. We here at Top Rank promotions demand 40% of those pussy juices you savored. Team Pacquiao won’t be sold short." 

The Bobfather then relinquishes the microphone to one of the most prominent hands in Pacquaio’s pocket Mike Koncz who inexplicably utters a continuous stream of curse words "fucking cockshit pussychrist assdick shitfoot fucktrap cockmind bawbag Joe Calzaghe!”

We cornered recently retired broadcasting legend Larry Merchant outside the press conference, who told us that “A good fight… Is like a race… In this fight… Who… Will be the tortoise… *burp* excuse me… Who will be Richard Petty?…”

Reached for comment, Former heavyweight champion George Foreman told us Pacquiao wouldn’t be intimidated by Floyd’s shoulders, just as he wasn’t intimidated by Dela’s…however, Pacquiao sweats pitifully and Mayweather sweats like George Jr Jr, at Santa Anita racetrack, while losing the family fortune betting on broken down trotters and female jockeys.

Meanwhile Lampley bursts into the conversation like an incoherant PTSD victim of the Adam West “Batman” series, yelling “BAM”, “POW”, “SPLAT”, “CAPLOWIE”, “OSCAR NOOOOOOO!”, before settling into his first cogent, clear headed observation concerning the fight. “I predict that it takes around 10 seconds for George Foreman to announce that Pacquaio is waiting too long and needs to get on with it.”

When quizzed about whether this fight is the capstone for both men, he subtly asks "when did either of them fight James Page?”.

 Immediate silence descends on the commentary box and then Max Kellerman points out Floyd and his now defunct “philthy rich records” was once affiliated with James Prince, who used to manage James Page prompting Big George to don a t.b.e. hat, declaring Floyd “the best ever”, via loose association with Page. When suddenly, Pacquiao unleashes a lethal left cross that accidentally lands home on the chin of Kenny Bayless, sending him crashing into the corner in a daze where he is greeted by his twin brother Kermit, who drags his prone body from the ring and takes over officiating the contest but fails to stick his ass out in the usual Bayliss fashion, causing the HBO switchboard to be jammed with calls from fans demanding their money back.

Teddy Atlas, the newly appointed head of HBO Corps Diplomatique takes the first call, from an irate Mr Ottke in Dooseldorf, Germany where the Deutsche division of Fightbeat editorial staff consider hiring lawyers prior to publication of their crowd-sourced article, which will no doubt be considered slanderous, libelous, nonsensical, profane and incomprehensible article which the late, great Manny Steward saw coming a month before it was proposed.

Steward, reading Fightbeat from a corner stool in Heaven, turned to Gil Clancy, who remarked “Just wait till that asshole Lummox Lewis arrives here, I will give him a good thrashing for referring to me as Gil ‘Can’t see’. Anyhow, tell me Emmanuel, how do you feel about the way Adonis Stevenson is representing the Kronk these days?”

Steward replied “I’m very proud. You know, I saved Adonis from going back to prison. I saw him one day down by the Kronk about to slap around some hoe in front of a cop. Luckily, I knew exactly what was about to happen. I was with Tony Ayala Jr, who went up to Adonis and told him……”

The End