“Tell us the whole fuckin story!”
The line which started the evenings festivities off would become the unachievable goal. How the fuck can ye put the events of that show intae words that accurately depict the organised chaos that unfolded? Ye just cannae. I’ll dae my fuckin best, don’t get me wrang, but it aw went by in a beautiful haze tae me. I don’t think anyone in that building on Sunday night wisnae utterly gripped by fuckin….everything. Every wrestling show I’ve seen until last night had some sort of lull. Even if its brief, there’s ALWAYS somethin that makes ye think “wish they’d hurry this up” but that lull didnae exist on Sunday night. All that existed was a permanent rush, and people occasionally collapsing wae pish runnin doon their legs in excitement/shock/abject horror. Wrestling is beautiful. Wrestling should be yer happy place. If it isnae…make it yer happy place. Make ICW and Scottish Wrestling in general yer happy place.
The evening began wae a quick brief from ICWs top brass. The guys in black suits that’ve swung mare golf clubs at baws than Tiger Woods. ICW owner Mark Dallas, his chief lieutenant Chris Conscience, Sweeney and various other hired killers. One of the men in the ring was former ICW roster member and resident ‘bag ah washin’ Jamie Feerick, who was there tae plead for a return to the fold, and was swiftly bounced oot the ring by Sweeney, flung wae such venom that he when he stood up he found himself at the bar in Box orderin himsell a Jackie Polo tae calm doon. The main point in the whole saga was for Dallas tae reveal that ICW will be running shows at Studio 24 in Edinburgh EVERY FUCKIN SUNDAY during the fringe, meaning along wae getting tae see aw yer usual homegrown talents, ye get a weekly fix of a certain Mr Cabana. I’d imagine a lot of Glaswegian kidneys will be going on the black market around that time cause we’ll aw be in dire need of cash if we’re moving tae Edinburgh, unless somecunts got a mile long couch we can aw kip on.
Aye so…after that there happened tae be a wrestling show, and it was a wee bit special
Joe Coffey vs Brian Kendrick
This proved once and for all that Joe Coffey has made the transition fae being an incredibly intimidating guy who seemed tae want Grado dead, tae an incredibly intimidating guy that everyone loves and wants tae win at least a few of the belts…if not them aw. Rightfully so anaw, personally I don’t think there’s a more talented wrestler in Scotland right now and there wis nae doubt that this would be a stoater considering he wis in there wae a former WWE Champion. A man who brought great honour and nobility tae that title for the 5 minutes he had held it. The match wis predictably braw, starting off wae a strength test between the two, which nae offence tae Kendrick, but he never had a fuckin hope there. I’m fairly certain Joe is made oota girders welded tae alligators teeth or suhin.
The boays get tae exchanging chops, and forearms, before Coffey hits a thunderous lariat. Kendrick followed that wae a peach of a dropkick, and then we had a quite wonderful wee spot when Coffey rolled through a rollup attempt, straight intae the Swings. I cannae mind how many times he spun oor Spanky, but it wisnae enough for some folk as a wee chorus of boos broke oot. Simmer doon boays fuck sake, we’re just gettin started. Coffey goes for the big splash after that, but ye don’t get tae be WWE Champion for 5 minutes if yer no aware of big scary bastards about tae splash ye, and Kendrick wis wise tae it. Coffey wis still well in control, but it wis brilliant tae see two guys who probably met for the first time hours earlier have such chemistry in there together. Coffey hits a German suplex, and two splashes in the corner, before following that up wae a bulldog. Kendrick rebounded fae that wae a superkick, but he was eventually bested by that decapitator of a Spinning Lariat which gave Joe a hard-fought win. Gallus putting this on first btw, cause even though it was a wee bit short, it still set the bar high for the rest of the roster, but aw the best wrestling shows I’ve seen draw ye in right away wae a stauner inducing opener, and Still Smokin would prove tae be nae different.
James Scott emerges after the match seemingly tae congratulate Joe on his win. Its been quite heartening tae see these two form a bond over this feud, which in terms of wrestling has been my favourite in ICW. Pure storytelling genius in all 3 of their singles matches together, so its only right that James Scott wants a chance tae even the score having come out of the first 3 wae a 2-1 deficit. Joe seems warm tae the challenge of one more match and we appear tae be leaving it there, but James Scott is still a bad yin in the grand scheme of things. He’s still a conniving wee heely bastard, and he proved that by knockin 4 or 5 of Joes teeth oot afterwards. Know the only way tae solve this for good? 60 minute iron man match. Nah fuck it…90. Dedicate one of the Edinburgh shows tae just they two knocking fuck out one and other for a whole day. Aw over Edinburgh. First tae 10 falls wins. Nothing would gie me more of a buzz than seeing Joe Coffey and James Scott sling tiger suplexes n forearm smashes at each other aw roon Tynecastle, tae the backdrop of that spine tingling “duh duh duh duh” Iron Man chant that emerged during Joes match. Might aswell get some use of the auld place before its turned intae a Morrisons or suhin.
Lionheart and Jackie Polo segment
Hearto emerges tae a helluva pop, and gie the man his due, he seems remarkably positive for a guy who suffered a potentially life threatening, and certainly career threatening injury less than a month ago. Its mainly him coming oot tae thank the fans for their support during what has been an incredibly difficult time for him, but ye knew it wisnae gonnae be that simple.
That music hits and oot comes the maestro. Jackie fuckin Polo. I wis intae this segment for the masterful heel work fae Polo, but also because having it at all would indicate that when Hearto gets back tae full fitness, these two might just be picking up where they left off and finally having the match that they built up so brilliantly. Polo comes out in a neckbrace and crutches, and hits oot wae some beltin patter (a wee Curb Your Enthusiasm reference anaw) when he says theres only two ways ye hurt yer neck…a car accident, or eatin “cookies”. Perhaps a wee nod tae Heartos line about him having tasted more success than Polo has ‘pussy’? Thats Jackies way of sayin he’s been chowin down on aw ra burds, and I don’t doubt it for a second. The suit jaicket, singlet and nae troosers combo had me soakin at the last show, and I’ve no even got a fanny, but anyway, hes oot wae a few minders, and orders the removal of Hearto from the ring as his Polo Promotions colleague Mark Coffey wis scheduled tae have his match next. He also claims that he’s retiring due tae his horrific injuries hes suffered, as he has no more tae accomplish in the ring, and he sees nae point in risking his health any further. Japan can get tae fuck, he disnae need it. Already a legend, featured in such publications as PWI, FSM and the Ayrshire Post. Hearto exits without hassle, cause when yer cuttin aboot wae a broken neck its probably best tae avoid any sort of stramash. Gid call hearto, theres healin tae be done and Morphine tae be munched, nae point concerning yersell wae this business tae yer fully fit, and frog splashin anyone that gets in yer road.
Mark Coffey vs Solar (Zero-G Title Match)
Its revealed Solar wont be competing. He’s still oot injured, so Coffeys got an easy shift the night it would seem. Have a wee chat wae the crowd, and stoat out the ABC as the reigning ICW “true” Champion. Cept….eh, well. Something kinda…happened. Somethin that made me legitimately collapse tae the floor wae excitement, and I’m no gonnae tell ye any lies troops. I shot ma load. I shot it forcefully, and I shot it in the direction of the fuckin moon. Everyone around me seemed tae fuse together in that moment tae huv a simultaneous heart attack cause…
Mark Coffey vs Prince Devitt (Zero-G Title Match)
The lights went out, and the music hit. Ye get a split second tae kinda realise what might be happening, but ye don’t allow it tae become too real. Just incase its aw a ruse. Guys…it wisnae a ruse. It really fuckin happened. All of it. The lights come back on and there he is, up the top rope, arms oot like a fighter jet. The war against cunts wae shite abs, and hes winning. Its fuckin…its fuckin….its…FERGAL FUCKIN DEVITT. FERGAL FUCKIN DEVITT’S HERE. OH MY CHRIST. WHIT?? I’ve been told I wis reduced tae the floor at this point, and I’m not ashamed. Fergal Devitt is one of best wrestlers in the world right now, and even though this wis his 4th ICW appearance, this wisnae just Fergal Devitt…it was SURPRISE Fergal Devitt. Which makes the chances of a loss of control in yer bodily functions a hunner times mare likely. Quite fitting that everycunt drapped tae their knees anaw, cause thats kinda the default setting for folk when they’re face tae face wae Fergal Devitt. That boaby willnae sook itself. So anyway, a match broke out fae that point and it was fuckin magnificent. All of Devitts matches in ICW to date have been stoaters, but for me this was the best one yet. Something about the white hot atmosphere and the fact that he wis in there wae one of the best technicians in Scotland made it fuckin……special.
Hard irish whips tae the corner, are followed by a series of chops in all 4 corners fae Devitt. Coffey hits back wae a dropkick. The match rolls on tae the outside where Devitt hits that spot where he sets his opponent up on a chair propped against the barricade and dropkicks his spleen oot. Follows that wae a double stomp, before having tae handle some shenanigans fae Jackie Polo on the apron. Clearly concerned that his man was up against an adonis and in grave danger of droppin the gold, Polo takes action, but Devitt must no have heard the big man’s retired cause he made short work of him anyway.
They exchange forearm smashes, but Devitt gets the better of the duel, and follows it up wae a beautiful backdrop intae a pin. That brings a two count, but Coffey wis on the ropes. Clearly not prepared for the full on assault on his jaw that wis taking place. He expected Solar. He expected tae be duckin moonsualts and crossbodies, but instead he ate a double stomp aff the top rope on both Coffey and the stricken Jackie Polo, followed by Bloody Sunday (Spike DDT) and we had us a NEWWWWWW ICW ZERO-G CHAMPION, and it only happened tae be FERGAL FUCKIN DEVITT, and everyone around me with left wae two nipple shaped holes in whitever tap they happened tae be wearing.
Gutted for Mark Coffey right enough, but ye couldnae deny how special that moment wis. Having one of the best wrestlers in the world show up without advertisement, tae put on a stoater of a match and leave wae a belt. Fuck sake, two matches in and we’d already had more good shit than any mainstream company wid give ye in a month. Ye could tell at that point this night wis gonnae be a wee bit special. Whit else is there tae dae but bring out perhaps the most charismatic guy on planet earth. Paul London!
Kid Fite vs Paul London
Pro wrestling can get bogged down wae negativity sometimes. A lot of fans make it their business tae piss and fuckin moan about anything and everything, talking about this guy no being “over” or this guy should get “pushed” instead of just enjoying it for whit it is. A show for your entertainment. There’s a culture of bitterness there at times. It seems that on occasion folk forget that its supposed tae be fuckin FUN. That’s whit it’s all about. It’s about entertaining a crowd. Keeping them engaged for 3-4 hours and sending up the road wae plenty of stories, and probably sare knees if yer an auld cunt. So if you like yer wrestling to be fun, this match is tailor-made for you. Kid Fite enters first and looks fuckin READY son. Perhaps the biggest match of his career, so naturally he’d have wanted things tae get going asap, but eh…thats no really an option when yer about tae wrestle Paul London.
I knew about Londons entrance for the indies beforehand, but yer never quite prepared for its majesty tae ye see it in person. He does a lap of the whole fuckin building, stopping for photies…stopping for the odd winch probably, a few shots at the bar, ootside for a dodgy fag. Yer man is every bit the Intrepid Traveller he claims tae be, cause this is Glesga mate. Exposing yersell tae a crowd as hot as this one, when aw the burds want yer boaby and aw the guys want tae go for a pint wae ye, and maybe see if yer intae giving up some boaby later; its a dangerous game. Paul London fears no man, wuman or in between. Nor does he fear an exposed set of baws, so when he entered the ring and was immediately met wae a “teabag” chant he didnae seem phased in the slightest. That might be down tae no having a fuckin clue what that means, but I’m taking it as him knowing exactly what it means and just no giving a FUCK.
So a match happened anaw, and it started wae some shoulderblocks, and a wee sunset flip fae London. We’ll call this phase of the match the calm before the storm. Storm in a teabag? Cause soon after that we were exposed to our first set of baws of the evening, familiar baws but they don’t see the light of day as much as they used tae. With London down, Kid Fite seizes his chance and delivers the teabag. London disnae take too kindly tae that, although I think it mighta been cause he likes his tea a good bit stronger than that, and he wis upset wae Fito for no double dippin, but he reacts by dragging Fito intae the crowd and running him along the bar. He then busted out a fuckin Shooting Star Press intae the crowd, which cleared oot the last remnants of ejaculate that didnae leak oot when Devitt appeared. Shooting star presses are dangerous btw. Shooting star presses when the only thing breaking yer fall is other humans crosses intae a new territory but. Paul London disnae gie a fuck. Paul London’s no there tae do things that look safe, he’s there tae induce heart attacks and orgasms. Followed that up with a double stomp tae the back, before going up top looking for what I could only assume was one of his dazzling array of high flying moves. Well this yin was a wee bit different, as he took his turn tae whap the baws oot, and deliver what I can only assume is the worlds first FLYING TEABAG, well it wis technically a seated senton, but it also had baws so it’s a Flying Teabag. Its aw wan having yer eye nearly knocked out by a flying pair of baws, but when they baws belong tae Paul London, at least the story has more of a charming vibe tae it than a tragic one. The match reaches its conclusion soon after, as the boys let it aw go. Once you’ve felt another guy’s baws rest on yer chin, the need tae hold back becomes null and void. Kid Fite drops London heid first on the top turnbuckle and looks like he’s heading for the win, before his supposed comrade and Fight Club tag partner Liam Thomson emerges wae Carmel. Clearly not too chuffed tae be left aff the card, he provides the disraction that leads tae London getting the win. A sad end tae what was a beautiful spectacle tae that point, but Paul London isnae happy. I don’t think he realised what went down and he wanted tae let Thomson know that if him and his “jizzbag slut” could get tae fuck. He didnae want the win this way, but we aw had a merry time after it anyway cause they both gave us one last glimpse of their baws and seemed content tae not be waving them in peoples faces.
The NAK vs The Bucky Boys vs The Sumerian Death Squad (Ladder Match for the ICW Tag Titles)
Genuinely astounded that everyone made it out of this alive. I’ve never seen so many fuckin bumps in my life. The match starts wae all 3 teams leathering each other daft. The NAK were a man short, as Renfrew wis getting the game face on for the main event later. BT Gunn takes the first ladder bump, before using it creatively tae have a wee go at getting the belts early on unsuccessfully. Divers takes a ladder bump next, and I also mind seeing Tommy End fling him intae a wall when the action made its way intae the crowd. There wis some sort of ladder shenanigans where the legs were swept from someone and he bounced up and kicked his partner in the face, but who wis involved is beyond me, kicking people in the face seems like it would up Stevie Boys street, but I honestly cannae mind. Stevie and BT jostled wae a ladder anaw, knocking somecunt/everycunt down in the process. BT hits a crossbody, before going up on the balcony bit above the merch stand wae a chair, seemingly hell bent on killing fuckin….everythin. Who knows what his intentions were exactly when he got up there, but I don’t think the outcome wis quite how he anticipated, as the bold Wolfgang appeared behind him. BT gives it a comical “aw fur fuck sake man!” look, before swinging a chair in Wolfies direction, but Wolfie ducks and grabs the chair for himself…cracking BT over the back wae it; then…..aw fuck.
With everyone else in the match gathered below, Wolfie indicated that it wis Gorilla Press time. See when ye see a wrestler seemingly indicating that he’s going for something as potentially fatal as that ye just assume he’s no gonnae dae it. It’ll get blocked or something. It fuckin has to, cause they must have been at least 20-25 feet up, and ye add another 6-7 feet for the height he’d be at wae Wolfie pressing him over his heid, ye have….eh…a lot of fuckin feet. It was high up is the point here, but it happened. Wolfie launched BT Gunn wae the Gorilla Press and as visually impressive and scary as that bump was, the trust between the two of them tae even go through wae it must be fuckin immense. BT landed (somewhat) safely on top of all the other competitors and the story had a happy, paralysis free ending but jesus fuck. If there’s a more eye-popping bump taken anywhere in wrestling this year….or any year really, it’ll need tae be something that involves some kind of time travel, and a return tae the days that when folk got buried alive, ye actually thought they might be deid.
So anyway, after that fuckin chaos, a lot more chaotic things occurred. In amongst the chaos we had a Pumphandle Suplex fae Divers, and a Spear or three fae Davie Boy, before Renfrew saw fit tae enter the fray. He hits the Stone Cold Stoner on Dante, and seems tae be free and clear tae stoat up and reclaim the Tag Belts for the NAK, but he wisnae lookin oot his peripherals hard enough cause he got fuckin BURST by a flying spear aff Davie, separating Chris fae his Renfrews in the process sand seemingly handing the Buckys the chance tae reclaim the gold they once wore so proudly. Never forget about they dastardly dutch lads though, as the Sumerian Death Squad wur in nae mood tae be in the background for the grand finale. Dante hits a spear, and Tommy End nails a moonsault, before Tommy climbs the ladder tae pull down the gold. The Sumerian Death Squad are your new ICW Tag Champions, but congratulations should go tae everyone for putting on an incredibly entertaining match, and particularly BT Gunn and Wolfgang for putting together that spot and carrying it out without killing themselves and hauf of Glesga.
Naw…that cannae just be half time, theres nae way. There isnae another half of this. I cannae. Its too much.
Grado vs Mikey Whiplash
Fuckin stop it man. I cannae keep marking out this hard, there’s gonnae be nae bodily fluids left. Grado’s entrance is still special tae me in its own right, but naw….ye cannae just huv former Pop Idols showin up singing it. Fuckin music hits and there she is. Oor Shelly. Michelle Mcmanus, in aw her glory, looking magnificent in her tailor-made frock anaw (9 outta 10 😉 ) beltin oot Like a Prayer. I don’t think anyone had anything left tae give at this point, but Michelle Mcmanus has often been a source of inspiration for me at times of need. Second wind, here we fuckin go.
Collar and elbow tie-up starts us off, before Whiplash breaks it up tae slap Grado across the chops. Armbar takedown is followed by a snapmare intae a legdrop across the arm. Another armbar leads tae another slap and this time Grado’s had enough. He knows he disnae have Whippys respect at this point, but he’s no gonnae just stand there and allow himself tae be slapped stupid. They run the ropes next, and Grado leapfrogs Whiplash before skelpin him wae a slap of his own. Grado finds himself on the outside, and when he attempts tae climb back in Whippy gets him tellt…”You dont belong in this ring!”
Difficult not tae get totally engrossed in the action when its these two. Breathtaking stuff at times. These have been my favourite matches in ICW in terms of getting ye intae it emotionally and this was nae different. Despite supposedly not belonging, Grado gets back in there anyway, and its oot wae a wee bitta Old School! incase yer no familiar wae that, its yon thing the Undertaker does when he takes his opponent by the arm, balances delicately on the top rope and jumps doon on their arm. Grado done it was slightly less grace than Taker, but the end result was the same. Then he broke oot the old shake, rattle n roll, followed by a nifty wee neckbreaker. Locks in the STF after that but Whiplash gets tae the ropes. An exchange of brutal strikes sees Grado take a tumble tae the outside of the ring again, this time setting up near the barricade for…wait, he cannae….surely no. I suppose when ye see BT Gunn nearly die, surprise Fergal Devitt, Paul Londons baws and shooting star press, and a top rope spear delivered tae a cunt up a ladder, things really shouldnae be still shocking ye, but Whiplash doing the Triple Suicide Dive spot after impaling his leg on the barrier when he tried it the last time these two were due tae meet just seemed…significant. He nailed it of course, and the pop that game wae the third one rivalled some of the better pops of the night.
It turned intae the Roll n Slice show after that as Grado hits Whiplash wae the first ever Triple Roll n Slice, although I imagine its a feat Grado has managed in real life wae actual rolls n slice, it was the first we’d seen its like in a wrestling ring. Not tae be outdone. Whippy hits Grado wae the Roll n Slice off the apron after that, sending Grados front teeth in the direction of the merch table. We were getting tae the big finish now, as Whippy hits the rolling senton, before missing fae the top rope. Grado hits an F5 and a wee boot, for a 2 count each, the wee boot looked like it had the job done but Whippy somehow reached a rope. Mirroring the finish to their match a Terminator 2 last year. It widnae have the same outcome though, as Grado locks in his second STF of the night and Whiplash tapped tae bring this spine tingling shit tae a close.
I’ve always wondered how real the animosity is between Whiplash and Grado, as Whippy seems tae be a traditionalist when it comes tae wrestling, with extremely high standards. I love Grado tae bits, but sometimes ye could see his approach tae wrestling as…a wee bit light. That’s obviously just him playing his character and I don’t doubt he puts a lot of work in, but ye could imagine him being the type of cunt that bothers Whiplash a bit, so tae see them share whit looked like a genuine embrace after the match gied me a warm feelin. No the same wan as I had when I spilled moisture oota every orifice when Devitt appeared, but it wis a better wan. It made ma heart happy so it did.
I think we were aw wilting at this point. It was too much tae keep up wae. Too much tae handle. We needed a nap. We needed a crack team of medical professionals out there handing oot protein bars, and gentle gammys. We needed someone. We needed………we needed a hero.
Joe Hendry vs Damian O’Connor
We needed JOE HEN-DRAY, and by fuck did we get him. Not only did we get him, we got James R Kennedy, and Kenny Williams anaw. Three of my favourite boays. As much as he’s an odious walloper as the James R Kennedy character, theres nae doubting he’s one of the best managers in the UK and he wis out tae continue building bridges between his two charges. He wis out tae have Kenny present a trophy tae Joe Hendry, for services to charisma and beating Jim Cornette in burger eating contests, which Joe gleefully accepts, before letting us aw know that he’s calling his fallaway slam the “Freak of Nature” as a nod tae Jim Cornettes kind words about him. We get a “Kenneth is the bollocks” chant because he fuckin is. There’s nae denying it. I was kinda hoping he’d turn on Joe here and we’d get a match between those two, but instead we were treated tae probably the only thing the show was missing tae this point. We had Joe Hendry (JOE HEN-DRAY) yer Local Hero, wrestling a fuckin bear. A real life bear. Not only wis it a bear, it wis a fuckin angry bear. Not only wis it an angry bear…it wis an IRISH angry bear, and that bear goes by the name of Damian O’Connor.
Damian O’Connor is fuckin sick tae the back teeth of hearing about this “local hero” cunt who seems tae feel the need tae say his own name a lot. He’s no impressed by the cunt winning a burger eating contest either, cause Damian O’Connor disnae eat burgers. He eats whole cows and shites oot bigger burgers than the one Joe demolished tae win that contest, so Joe Hendry holds no fear for the big yin.
A match breaks oot, and starts wae some forearms, before Damo hits a suplex and stands on Joes back. Kennedy and Kenny both try n get involved, and Kennedy takes a sare yin before Joe gets a second wind and hits that Fallaway Slam he was chatting about earlier. An impressive feat of strength considering that even though he probably isnae really a bear Damian O’Connor is still a beast of a man, and throwing a beast over yer heid cannae be the easiest of tasks. Damo kicks out at 2 though, and removes Joes jaw wae a big boot. Looking like sending the local hero away wae a trophy and a defeat, but all of a sudden Damo catches a spear fae a mystery man, who piles Joe, Kenny, Kennedy and himself on top of Damo tae make sure of the pin. I’m told the mystery man goes by the name of Tim Wylie, and he appears tae be the latest recruit for this wee variety show James R Kennedy is putting together. Joe for charisma and flinging bears err yer heid, Kenny Williams for wrestling genius and Tim Wylie for surprise spears. Quite the stable. The boys depart in triumph (wae Kenny sneakin back tae grab the trophy fae earlier, putting him back in Damos strike zone…brave bastard) as Damian is left nursing his wounds. Ye have tae imagine the big man will have his revenge at some point, cause bears dont like tae be antagonized, and tend tae eat people when that happens.
Jack Jester vs Chris Renfrew vs Wolfgang vs Sabu (ICW Title Match)
Just this left aye? nae bother. Only the biggest match of probably everyones career in the ring not named Sabu (it might have been his anaw tbh, I mean wis ECW really that significant compared tae a sold out ABC wae 1,100 cunts going daft for him?) The match kicks off wae everycunt battering ma man Renfrew for some reason. I know the NAK are bad bastards and have done some despicable things tae Jester and Wolfie, but I hink Sabus involvement wis down tae peer pressure more than anything. He seen his pals daein it so he had tae anaw. Be yer ain man Sabu! Wolfie sends Renfrew tae the outside wae a spear, leaving Jester and Sabu tae renew their rivalry wae a bit of chair warfare, they clatter chairs together in perfect harmony, before Sabu breaks that up wae a clothesline. Sabu and Jester get tae brawlin in the crowd, wae Jester getting slung brutally intae a wall, whilst in the ring we seen Wolfie hit some splashes in the corner on Renfrew, before going up top, only tae be caught and hit wae the Stone Cold Stoner aff the top rope. Renfrew flung Wolfie intae a chair set up in the corner at some point anaw, which near took Wolfies heid aff. Chops are exchanged after that, before Wolfie hits the Swanton. Missile dropkick fae Renfrew anaw, before Wolfie decided that he wisnae content wae being involved in one sick bump for the night. One aint enough man, he needs at least two, so he launches himself over the ropes and intae the crowd wae a death defying dive. It gets tae a point where ye wonder if aw these cunts have a fuckin deathwish. I occasionally elbow drop ma bed, and even before I get airborne for that, a wee part of me goes “dont dae it, whit if one of the springs is pokin through the mattress and ye’ve no spotted it yet? ye could dae yersell a mischief” so there must be an unhinged element about ye if yer willing to put yer body on the line like these guys dae. Wolfie wisnae done either, as soon after that he wis sent through a table by Sabu. I’ve never seen Sabu put anycunt through a table and not thought he got the worst of it tbh, its like he becomes one wae any table he’s within 5 feet of. It’s almost romantic so it is. He sees a table and sends wink its direction as if tae say “darlin, I dont mean this in a vulgar way or that, but you’re gettin get front and back doors smashed in” Wolfie is in amongst it again, hitting a spear and the Slam Dunk, but his momentum is derailed wae another top rope Stoner fae Renfrew, but Jester jumps in and save his belt before Renfrew can get the 3 count.
Next up a pair of scissors enter the equation, but Sabu wid have tae get through Jester and the corkscrew if ye wis looking tae brutalize anyone wae them. Ye really shouldnae run wae scissors either, or corkscrews for that matter, so it’s probably safest for us aw if yees just put the potentially deadly weapons down guys. Everyone should be leaving wae both eyes, aw their limbs and baws intact. Sabu throws in legdrop wae the chair, before Sabu and Wolfie clear out, leaving Jester tae hit Renfrew wae the Tombstone tae overcome the odds and retain.
Retaining disnae necessarily mean leaving wae the belt though. Not when numerous cunts have contracts for title shots up their sleeves, and whilst Red Lightning wis out injured and probably wisnae a threat, the man he just pinned very much wis. Especially considering he has some of the best hauners in the business and out came BT Gunn and Divers tae leather Jester. Seemingly setting up Renfrew tae cash in his title shot fae winning the Square Go. Sabu insae having that though. The mutual respect between him and Jester would only have got stronger fae the war they were both involved in there, and he helps Jester clear the ring of yer NAK brutes. Seemingly leaving him and his title tae fight another day.
Surely that wis us eh? I love a bit of excitement so I dae, life is all about they moments the make ye scream yer heid aff n shite yer pants simultaneously, but there wis about 50 of they moments over the course of this night and I dunno if I could handle any more, but Sabu wis….lingering. He had a chair and Jesters corkscrew in his hand and he wis………….dwelling. Dwelling turned intae looking menacing, and looking menacing gradually became what could only be described as attempted murder. Sabu went absolutely fuckin radio rental mate. I’m no kiddin. Ye had tae be there tae see the demonic look in this cunts eyes. Chair shot after chair shot. Scissors tae the heid. Some very real looking vitriol exchanged between Sabu and somedy in the crowd, before Sabu proceeded tae write his name in Jesters heid wae his own corkscrew. It was as brutal a beating as I’ve seen anyone take in nearly 2 years of going tae see ICW, so that tells ye all ye need tae know. It seemed like the perfect time for Renfrew tae come back out and cash in, and I suppose that wis part of the genius of it all, cause naecunt moved a fuckin muscle as Jester lay stricken on the matt, blood streamin oot his skull. When ye’ve been treated tae over 3 hours of aw the twists, turns and shocks ye can handle, it kinda becomes the expected outcomes but Jester makes it tae his feet and wae the help of Grado and Stevie Boy he makes it tae the back still yer ICW Champion.
Even looking at it on its own, if the event had taken place as scheduled and everything that occurred wis as ye seen it, it would still probably have been the most entertaining ICW show tae date. The tag match was a frenetic thing of beauty, Coffey vs Kendrick was stellar, London vs Fite was about as entertaining a match as yer likely to see, Grado vs Whippy was an engaging end to a wonderful feud, Joe, Damo and co provided a lot of entertainment in their wee segment anaw and the Jackie Polo exchange wae Lionheart wis genius fae start tae finish, so even just recalling that, ye have a wrestling show that ye really should be paying a lot more than 17 quid for, when ye consider all that and add in the fact that FERGAL FUCKIN DEVITT appeared unannounced on the top rope, painted up like some kinda Spider/Adonis hybrid, for a match wae one of my favourite cunts in the company in Mark Coffey AND he walked out wae a belt. I dunno man. There’s nae words for that. Majestic is a word, but it disnae dae it justice. All consuming, energy sapping, tear inducing, baw emptying, fanny fluttering, knee weakening brilliance is another way ye could put it, but I’m no even sure if thats good enough. It was fuckin…..almost too much.
Perfect time for the perfect show tae, with the exposure from the Insane Fight Club doc, this is it. This is yer chance. Keep this buzz going, keep putting on amazing shows and keep ICW on the lips of everycunt in Glesga and the sky’s the limit. I think we’ve aw longed for a day where telling folk yer a wrestling fan isnae met wae a raised eyebrow and a look that says “whit?!” and ICW might be bringing us tae a point where that might be a reality. A day where the word “fake” is no longer synonymous with professional wrestling either, cause ye cannae fake throwing a cunt fae 30 feet in the air. There’s nae training for that. Ye either dae it and live, or ye dae it and die.
Nae point rating the show outta 10. Never has been any point in daein that really, but yees aw know. Full marks. A hunner oota 10. Only downside was nae fierce females match, and unfortunately nae Noam Dar or Andy Wild, but the show that we did see couldnae have been better.