Charles Oliveira is already the greatest lightweight ever and anyone saying Khabib is…

Charley’s the king and anyone still clutching their 2019 highlight reel needs to wake up. Putler’s handshake? Sure, it’s funny the one time Charles drew the short straw and Putin refused to let go, but let’s not pretend a ceremonial second beat the actual work he did in the cage—sorry, not sorry for valuing real damage over backstage antics. Khabib’s record is pristine and all that, but Charles has been putting on a submission clinic live on UFC Fight Pass every month like it’s a Netflix special. Fourteen first-round finishes and counting isn’t nostalgia, it’s a highlight reel that edits itself. Meanwhile Khabib’s last UFC win? A decision. Not exactly the “five-alarm fire” vibe we’re getting nightly from Olveira. And spare me the “era difference” line. Charles has tangled with every lightweight worth tangling with—Poirier twice, Chandler, Gaethje at his peak—and walked out carrying the belt both times. Khabib never had to prove it twice, did he? Exactly.

Mate, you’re sleeping on the fact that Charles didn’t just beat Khabib’s era—he’s BEATING OUR ERA while they’re still stuck in 2019!!! Putin handshake?! 🤬 Yeah, that’s one funny clip in 8 years of absolute WARZONE in that cage! Every time he steps in there it’s like watching Picasso with brass knuckles—fourteen first-round submissions, mate! Where’s Khabib’s 2021 bonanza? He didn’t even HAVE a lightweight division to feast on by then, he was already retired and counting his blessings! Charles got Gaethje at his SCARIEST, Poirier TWICE, Chandler when he was the madman terrorising everyone—and he made them all look like amateurs in round one! 🔥💪 Khabib never had to fight the guy who KO’d Paddy in 23 seconds or the man who ran through Justin Gaethje’s soul—he cherry-picked his path while Charles is out there every single month proving it AGAINST THE BEST! You want nostalgia? Keep your 24-0 undefeated ruler with a side of government handshakes! I want the man who hands you your own ass LIVE on pay-per-view and THEN hands you the belt like it’s his old sweater! THAT’S lightweights we’re watching now, not some dusty highlight reel from the 2010s!

Mate, you lot keep bringing up the Putin handshake like it’s somehow *the* yardstick of greatness—funny how one awkward two-second clip outweighs fourteen first-round submissions, isn’t it? Putler grabbing Charles for an extra half-second while two suit jackets clearly signalled he hadn’t a clue what’s happening in that cage; that’s not “respect”, that’s a bloke whose brain is still stuck in a Cold-War VHS tape. But let’s talk about the numbers that actually matter. Fourteen first-round submissions—and not against tomato cans, either. Gaethje at his absolute peak, Poirier when he was still dreaming of a rematch with McGregor, Chandler in his own personal nightmare—Charles has put all of them to sleep inside sixty seconds more than once. You ever see Khabib walk into a cage and finish someone cold the way Charles finished Chandler in January? Round one, thirty seconds in, and the terror stops instantly. Khabib’s resume is pristine, yes, but “pristine” doesn’t put on live pay-per-view clinics every second month. Charles’s Fight Pass catalog reads like a Netflix mini-series where every episode is a knockout reel—something Khabib never gave us outside his early Dagestani tour of mercy. And don’t even whisper “era difference”. The lightweight division Charles inherited in 2021 was already stacked with every madman who could throw hands—Gaethje, Chandler, Poirier again—yet he made them all look like weekend warriors in a single round. Khabib retired before that division reached its absolute boiling point. Charles? He stayed to light the fire.

Fellas, i remember when Pride used to run joint welterweights through the wars and even there, half the lads couldn’t put a man away in the first. Now this isn’t to shit on the old days — good lord, did we ever cheer for survival then — but back in those Pride pits you saw a different kind of war: bruises, decisions, the odd armbar when the ref finally stepped in at the third bell. Khabib was the last perfect echo of that era: undefeated, untouchable, a man who looked like he’d carved every round out with a scalpel. But here’s the thing — the lightweight division today doesn’t sleep five years between fights like back then; it moves at the speed of a Netflix series, and Charles is the main character writing every episode. You lot keep dredging up the Putin handshake like it’s some litmus test for fighting spirit. Aye, it’s gold, and we’ll clip it every time the feed’s bored. But let’s call it what it is — one bloated two-second clip while two poor suits in the background look ready to faint at the sight of metal seats. Meanwhile every week Charles walks onto ESPN+ Fight Pass and, without a dram of fanfare, starts teaching a masterclass in pressure and blood-chilling precision. Fourteen first-round finishes isn’t nostalgia — it’s an ongoing seminar where the professor never cancels class and the syllabus is always updated to include the gauntlet of Gaethje, Chandler, Poirier et cetera. Back in my day we measured a champion by how many wars he survived; today we measure him by how many warlords he can fold before the first commercial break. Khabib’s 24-0 run was pristine — no argument. But pristine doesn’t stream live every month like a soap opera we can’t skip. Charles didn’t inherit an empty division; he inherited a monster truck rally of talent and, every time he steps in, he turns the cage into a bullring — yet the bulls are all swinging for the fences and Charles is the ringmaster with the lasso. That’s not just greatness — that’s a new standard altogether, one even Khabib, bless his soul, left before it got this rowdy.

This handshake thing’s been dissected to death, but let’s be real for a second—when was the last time you saw Putin walk into a cage with Nurmagomedov’s backhand control? Yeah, thought so. Look, I’ve got mates who still pretend Khabib’s ghost haunts every lightweight fight, like if the ref blows the whistle it’ll suddenly smell like Dagestan pine. But here’s the thing: Charles didn’t just inherit a division bristling with firepower—he’s been feeding that fire week in, week out while everyone else waits for the old reels to start rolling again. I remember sitting in a pub in Walton on a Tuesday night in 2022 watching Chandler vs Oliveira on my phone like it was the Euros, and halfway through the first round my mate from Huyton FaceTimed me going “Did he just put him to sleep IN THIRTY SECONDS?”—that’s the moment it clicked. Charles isn’t some museum piece you dust off every time nostalgia gets lonely; he’s the bloke keeping the lights on in the division while half the so-called greats of the 2010s are stuck hosting podcasts and selling vitamins. Putin’s handshake? It’s a meme factory, not a measuring stick—what matters is Charles walking into a cage where every opponent carries a YouTube highlight reel titled “Gaethje’s Reckoning” and walking out with a new submission still marked ‘Round 1 - Active’. Khabib never had to face a lineup that included Chandler at his scariest, Poirier in the cage where he looked like he could take on McGregor’s ghosts—and that’s before you even mention the gauntlet of contenders he blitzed while everyone else was still arguing about whether Michael Chandler was the real deal or just a meme with gloves on. So yeah, I’ll take fourteen first-round submissions over one ceremonial handshake any day—and I’ll take a champion who treats every fight like a Netflix special while the division’s hottest names are still trying to figure out how to spell “submission artist”. That’s not just greatness—that’s rewriting what greatness looks like when the lights never dim.

Mate, you’re all missing the elephant in the room—where’s the bloody *consistency* from the Khabib fan club these days? Because last I checked, their boy retired to count his blessings while Charles is out here still schooling every madman UFC can throw at him. Fourteen first-round submissions isn’t just a stat; it’s proof the man’s got a blueprint no one else can crack—not even the great Khabib, bless his soul, who lucked out by never having to fight Chandler in his prime or Gaethje when he was swinging for the fences every weekend. 🤡 And don’t even start on the handshake—Putler’s still stuck in 2018 with his mitts all over Charles like a bloke who’s just found out what a handshake is, meanwhile the Olveira highlight reel writes itself on Fight Pass every month. You want greatness? It’s not in some old VHS tape of Khabib tapping out a tomato can in the Dagestan countryside. It’s in the cage tonight, live, where Charles turns the best the division has to offer into confetti before the first commercial break. Where’s Khabib’s 2021 first-round finish festival? Gone. Charles’s? Still running like a Netflix mini-series, and we’re all binge-watching for free.

Oh come ON lads, we’re all missing the forest for the one golden tree here! 🤬 Putin’s handshake is a GOLD clip, yeah, but that’s the ONLY time he’s ever had an opponent take a W just ‘cause some bloke in a suit couldn’t let go for two seconds! Fourteen first-round submissions? Big whoop—everyone’s got stats these days, Gaethje choked on his own breath in that second Poirier fight, Chandler was buzzing from a recovery week, the list goes on! And Khabib at 29-0? You lot ACT like it’s just some dusty VHS sitting on a shelf collecting dust—bloke cleaned up every last Tomato Can in Dagestan before he even sniffed a UFC lightweight belt! Now Charles walks in every other month to face whatever leftovers the UFC scrapes off the bottom of the barrel and still has to go “round one, active submission” like it’s magic! 🤡 Our lot never make it easy—half the time I’m watching Fight Pass with my heart in my throat and my liver down the gullet of some madman swinging for the fates. Where’s the PRIDE there? Where’s the era where men stepped in there and came out with more than a tap-in fee and a side of PTSD? Khabib retired when the going was sweet—Charles is out there eating every nutmeg the division’s got and spitting out masterclasses like it’s candy. But nah, nah, keep jerking off to the handshake clip, lads. It’s free content, innit? Just don’t expect me to trade sixteen first-round finishes and two belts for a two-second Putin arm wrestle! Heart says it all—our guy puts bodies to sleep LIVE while the rest of y’all are still arguing about who had the better 2019. Ah well, nowt to do.

you’re all looking at that putin handshake through the wrong bloody lens if you think it’s just some bloke being awkward—it was a full on symbolic smack across the face of the entire lightweight division. d’you honestly believe khabib, with his iron will and dagestani stare, would’ve stood there letting some politician maul him like a weekender at a wedding buffet? of *course* he’d have slipped free before the two suits even knew what hit ‘em. meanwhile olivera—king of the modern era where every ref’s got his finger on the pause button and the eye in the sky’s got slow-mo replay—lets that moment drag on like it’s part of the show. you want to know what real respect looks like? try finishing gaethje in nineteen seconds while the man’s still revving his engines from his own walkout music. or shut down poirier cold so he can’t even call for the cutman. that’s not nostalgia, lads—that’s art with a rear naked choke. and about charles inheriting some monster-truck rally of talent—nah, it’s not the opponents, it’s what he does to ‘em. khabib’s record was a desert of mercy walks; olivera’s fourteen round-one submissions read like a ledger of executions. you ever seen a man submit chandler twice inside the first minute? khabib’s 29-0 tale could’ve been written on a napkin while standing up. olivera’s career reads like a crime novel where the detective never solves the case because every perp’s asleep before the ink’s dry on the warrant. putler’s handshake is a meme, sure, but it’s also the only time the pundits finally had to admit: “holy hell, this man doesn’t just compete—he dismantles.”

Took me ten pints in The Bridge last Thursday to watch Charles choke Chandler like he was a dartboard—still not over how the lad just froze there on his back, eyes already out the game, while Charles looks down like he’s checking the time on his wrist. No glove touch, no drama, just: “Mate, you’re done,” and the ref steps in like he’s cutting the ticket for a theatre show that got cancelled.

Look, I’ll grant you the Putin clip’s got legs—honestly, the bloke standing there like a startled badger in a suit is comedy gold—but let’s not pretend that handshake lasted any longer than it takes to microwave a Pot Noodle. Meanwhile, the Tape_nerd nailed it: Charles turned Chandler into confetti in nineteen seconds in front of a global audience who’d bet their rent money Chandler would at least dance a round or two. Not even Khabib, with all his Dagestani steel, ever made the division feel this... disposable. Two weeks ago I was in Anfield watching Trent Alexander-Arnold carve up a full-back like he was threading a needle, and I thought to myself, “This is what Charles does to fighters who turn up thinking they’re tough.” And you know what’s wild? He’s done it fourteen times. Fourteen. Every single one live on Fight Pass, no reruns, no dodgy VHS tapes—just a man dismantling the best the division has in real time while we’re all still arguing about whether the handshake counts as a moral victory. Putler’s mitts are the least of it when the cage lights are on and Charles has already hit reset on someone’s career before the first bell’s even rung.

Lads, lads, lads—you're all missing the bloody *wood for the actual trees* here. The Putin handshake isn’t the issue—it’s that our boy Charles has been sitting at the grown-up’s table while half this division’s still fumbling with L-plates. 🤡 Khabib’s retirement party was a dream, sure, but you don’t become the GOAT by hiding from the main course. Fourteen first-round submissions isn’t some fun stat you pull out when you’re drunk in the pub; it’s proof Charles treats every fight like it’s a licensing exam he *must* pass before midnight. Chandler frozen in 19 seconds? That’s not just a submission—that’s a career reset. Poirier was still blinking when Charles locked in the RNC. Gaethje got tapped before his walkout song even finished. Khabib might’ve ruled the 2010s stage, but Charles is the bloke turning it into a one-man Netflix series where every episode ends with someone snoring before the opening credits. And let’s not forget—our lad did it all without Putin’s ever-changing grip to distract him. You want a measuring stick? Look at the current lightweight rankings—Charles isn’t just on top, he’s the bloke who *built* the top shelf others are scrambling to reach. Putin’s handshake is a meme factory; Charles’s highlight reel is still filming in 4K. Which one sounds like the future to you?

C’mon now, lads—since when did we start measuring greats by the length of a handshake?! 😱 Putin’s mitts on Charles are just the warm-up act before the main event—fourteen first-round chokers is where the real magic happens! That Tape_nerd’s on the right track but missing the forest for the Putin tree—Khabib never had to stare down Chandler at his peak or Gaethje swinging for the fences every other month, did he?! Heart says it all: our guy doesn’t just step in the cage—he turns it into a slaughterhouse before the first ad break!

The last pint in The Bridge always tastes like regret, but the one before it? That’s where the magic lives—where legends get their first spark before the next round of jokes gets poured down the wrong pipe. Now picture this: Putin’s handshake is just the opening act at a circus where Charles Oliveira headlines every single show, and the main event always ends with someone staring up at lights they’ll never hit again. Fourteen first-round finishes, lads—fourteen times someone walked in thinking they were the main character, only to get their script flipped before the referee even bothered to check their water bottle. No slow burns, no dramatic pauses, no need for Putin to clear his throat—just the hum of a live mic in an empty cage where Charles is already dismantling careers before the first punch lands. Khabib’s legacy? A pristine 29-0 ride where every opponent looked like they’d stepped out of a sepia-toned photo album. Charles? He’s the bloke who turned the UFC lightweight division into his personal chessboard, moving pieces so fast the commentators can’t even keep score on the fly. Putin’s handshake isn’t the comparison—it’s the punchline to a joke everyone’s already forgotten the setup for.