Round One:
Since Britney Spears tries to pretend that she's high and mighty and therefore above the low-brow sense of humor of this web page (like she's not just a bad porn star), she has a half-assed objection to showing up for a fight. Max Headroom, on the other hand, is all about publicity at any level, stands (well, waits on a computer screen) ready for the battle.
Britney Spears is wandering home after spending a night out as a prostitute under the clever (well, actually really stupid) alias of Spitney Bears when she is suddenly accosted by a group of ninjas. (Yeah, ninjas. It's my web page, so I get ninjas if I want). Britney is clubbed over the head with a blackjack and given a light beating that renders her unconscious and hurting but not seriously injured. Such an attack will henceforth be known as "the Treatment." She is then dragged into a van and tossed into the match. She awakes to see Max Headroom before her, ready for the duel. Round One goes to Max Headroom for not getting beaten senseless by my ninja goons.
Round Two:
What follows is a simple popularity contest. Since both combatants are or once were media icons and since Max Headroom is a sentient computer program that cannot be defeated through physical force, the two must battle on a forum of popularity. Initially it seems that Britney Spears has the advantage, since she sells her "music" using a feminine body that Max doesn't have, but Max's forceful and charismatic personality slowly starts winning over.
"What's wrong-ong-ong with you people? C-c-can't you see that you're just falling for a pair of knock-knock-knockers?"
Max proceeds to rain down a steady stream of honest abuse toward the viewing audience, the television network on which the battle is being aired, and against the sponsor of the fight (yeah...he's Max Headroom...he gets to insult me). Slowly but surely drawn to his blisteringly honest views, the audience begins to migrate away from Britney Spears. Britney responds by smashing the monitor on which Max is playing, hoping to silence him. But what she doesn't realize is that Max is a program, not a physical thing that can be hit. Spreading like a virus with a will, Max pops his image up on every television screen across America, essentially drowning out even the amazingly loud noise of Britney Spears' wailing. Round Two goes to Max Headroom.
Round Three:
The battle of popularity goes ever on. Max gets endorsements from Coca-Cola, Britney gets endorsements from Pepsi and Bob Dole. But since Coke is larger than the collective fortunes of both Pepsi and Bob Dole, Max continues to gain more popularity. (Hey, that's what happens when you start selling a drink that originally contained cocaine.) Max gains a further advantage as the 1980s slowly, unbelievably, come back in style. And yes, it is happening in small doses, so don't accuse me of making up any sort of fantasies here. Years pass, and by the time that the trends and music of the 90s come back in style, Britney Spears is in her middle twenties, haggard and worn from not keeping up her plastic surgery as much as she should. Without her sexc appeal at its fullest, her fanbase slowly disintegrates and she has nothing left but to become a model for various adult entertainment magazines, every day becoming a little older and a little less attractive, creeping ever closer to an inevitable death and the excrutiating agony of knowing that all of her popularity and public adoration mean nothing in the larger scheme of things. The last sound that she hears as she plunges into the depths of self-pity and downs an entire bottle of sleeping pills is the voice of Max Headroom, still and forevermore in the media's eye as he plugs a new Coke product. Round Three and the fight go to Max Headroom.
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