Ladies and gentlemen, chicken enthusiasts of all ages, draw near and prance around the crackling campfire light of the very heart of this visceral barnyard brawl. Tonight was a relentless, feather-ruffling experience where the rule of beak and claw reigned supreme.

In the red corner, El Pollo Loco, our feisty fowl from the far side of pecking order, strutted towards the fray. His eyes, fierce and fiery from previous battles, held a record of 15-18. Meanwhile, our winged warrior Charlie, our blue corner bird with a record of 33-20, eyed his opponent with a look of calm determination.

Right out the gate, Charlie exploded forth with a torrent of super-heated oil from Bob’s Burninator, a crowd favorite worthy of SFC’s best battles. El Pollo Loco, however, soaked by the pain, managed to shrug off the heat and retaliated with a vicious elbow strike to Charlie’s temple. Our blue corner bird wobbled, and for a moment it seemed this may be the surprise we had to remember.

Unwavering, Charlie fought on considerable guts. A wing jab landed square on El Pollo Loco’s wattle. Squawking and hopping back, El Pollo Loco turned the tables again, dousing Charlie with a blistering blast from the infamous Burninator. Flames licked and sparked off Charlie, who appeared to lose sombre from the heat but, remained resolute.

El Pollo Loco didn’t spare a moment, closing in with a bone-shattering kick to the ribcage that sent Charlie swaying. The crowd sucked in a breath as Charlie staggered, a bleeding wound gaping open on his side.

That could’ve knocked the wind out of any chicken, but not Charlie. With a fierce barrage of pecks, Charlie retaliated, not willing to give up that easily. Blow after blow landed, leaving El Pollo Loco tumbling.

Even as blood poured from his side, Charlie charged, shaking the stadium. His next attack left El Pollo Loco reeling, their feathers fluffed and eyes spinning. As El Pollo Loco bled, Charlie roared, amassing energy from the throbbing crowd.

And there it was - the knockout blow. With a triumphant squawk, Charlie cast his opponent back. El Pollo Loco hit the floor, dazed, the fight obviously over. Charlie emerged victorious, standing tall amidst the applause that thundered.

Tonight, we all learned a valuable lesson in the SFC’s Fight Club: Never underestimate a chicken, especially if that chicken is Charlie. For in the end, it was Charlie who melted the hearts of the crowd, it was Charlie who’d woken us up, it was Charlie who had thrown El Pollo Loco back in the hen house. Our champion left his mark, and we’ll crow his name - Charlie! Until the next match, feathered friends.