Aficionados of professional wrestling are becoming increasingly worried that the intellectual appeal of their beloved highbrow amusement is being corrupted by low-class philistines for whom a bouncing beach ball provides vapid, empty-headed amusement.

At several recent WWE performances, longtime patrons of the grappling arts have been struck agog by unwashed throngs of hooting, knuckle-dragging ninnies in the cheap seats brainlessly batting about inflatable plastic baubles.

“My word!” gasped Lord Reginald Haversham III, a longtime connoisseur of wrestledom, his monocle falling from his eye after being struck by an errant beach ball.

“I expect this kind of tomfoolery at the opera, but not during a performance of Raw!”

Professional wrestling is widely considered the last remaining civilized pastime for society’s upper-crust — offering intellectual stimulation, cultural edification, and ladies-whut-ain’t-got-much-clothes-on — but its status as a bastion of virtuosic artistry is being threatened by its growing popularity among boorish, blue-collar louts.

“If we allow beach balls at professional wrestling exhibitions, what’s next?” asked Haversham. “Will men be allowed to attend without a necktie? Will women be allowed to attend matches? Poppycock!”