There is a rumor that there is a wrestler out there from the Spanish wrestling circuit who has a winning move that is, let’s say, a gas. When the time comes for one of his matches to come to an end, he swings his opponent into a distant turn buckle, back first. The opponent, of course, falls to his knees as part of the script, facing this imposing figure of a man. To build up the drama, he looks to the crowd and slaps his rear indicating he is about to apply his pet move which prompts the annoumncer to cry out, “oh no! No perfume letal!” (Oh no! Not the lethal perfume!) With a look of delight on his face, he walks over to his slumped over, half dazed opponent, turns around and plants his butt crack squarely in his opponent’s face, wiggles it around and then rips a fart or a few of them. Once completed, he steps away and the opponent, now intoxicated with the noxious fumes, falls forward in a crumpled heap. The refs steps in and counts the fallen opponent out. The “perfume lethal” claims yet another victim!