ICW – Jimmy Nails Revenge Review

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I just…..I cannae.

I wasn’t ready. Was anyone? It’s too fuckin much. He can’t go. Whit in the name of fuck are we supposed tae dae now? Fergal Devitt wisnae an import. That’s the thing about it. He might not have been on every show, but he wis a member of the ICW roster. Ingrained intae the fibres of the place, just as much as a Joe Coffey spinning lariat, or Jester fishin somecunts eyeball out wae that corkscrew. On a personal level Devitt vs Wolfgang was the match that re-ignited my childhood passion for wrestling, and turned it back intae an all consuming, at times heart wrenching saga and for that I’ll always be grateful. It was only my second ICW show, and it persuaded me that ICW was something I needed tae see more of and since then, wrestling has been the one. For better, or worse. In sickness (so much fuckin sickness) and in health, till death do us part. I took wrestling’s hand again that night, and it took mine. He can’t be fuckin gone. Mind the BT Gunn match anaw? The chops. Aw the fuckin chops. Another work of art, and Surprise Devitt remains one of the best moments of my humble existence. I wis on the floor I’m told. I cannae mind it myself, cause I blacked oot briefly, but I’ve been told his presence on the top rope that night reduced me tae human rubble. It’s all done now. The thing that provided so much beauty, sometimes through flawless wrestling, and always through that endless array of abs the cunt seems tae have, is no more. His journey with ICW is at its end. So d’ye know whit? Before I attempt tae string together some shit about what was imo the strongest ICW show of the year from top to bottom, I just wantae say thanks. Thank you Fergal Devitt for being so incredible at what you do. A lot of folk are worried that he’ll get lost in the shuffle in WWE, but they need not be concerned. If he’s as good as we think, he’ll be absolutely fine. Cause true talent always rises. Always has, always will. Unless there’s some kind of howling element about yer personality (for example, shaggin wee dugs…a la Dave Batista) if ye’ve got the talent, it’ll happen.

So the show eh? In the final hours before it was due tae start, apparently ICW fuckin sold it out. Making it the 4th city ICW has sold out in. Consecutive sell outs in England aswell. For an independent wrestling promotion initially based in a community centre in Maryhill, that’s something a wee bit special is it no? The Riverside Club was absolutely rammed wae an eclectic blend of scum of various cultures and accents. A merry collective of those who really need put out their misery. I mean these things in the most complimentary way possible of course. Look at a bit deeper and see the compliments eh. I’m sorry, I love you. Wrestling? Why not.

Billy Kirkwood emerges first tae inform us that part timer and (not a real) Dr Sean David wisnae gonnae be joining him on commentary once again, but a replacement had been found, and that replacement has a fondness for the classic wrestling singlet, suit jaiskit, nae troosers combination. That replacement wis none other than the Polo Promotions patriarch and KING OF CHAAAAAT! Jackie Polo. On wae the show then? 600 words and fuck all about any wrestling matches. We’ll be rectifying that right about now.

BT Gunn vs Wolfgang

There’s a menace about BT Gunn lately is there no? A certain wickedness that was perhaps lacking for a wee while. Him and his NAK brethren were still fuckin shit up right enough, but for a wee while up until around Still Smokin time, yer BT Gunn didnae quite have that fire in him. That unhinged element that made ye legitimately fear the cunt. Then Wolfgang flung him fae about 40 feet in the air and the monster unleashed. The Wicked One…BT Gunn was back. Paul Heyman claim that his client ended the streak, but I think somehow, someway it wis actually a BT Gunn chop that done it. Maybe Taker was in earshot for one of them and that ringing that it left in his ears drove him aff his fuckin nut. Sittin in the locker room across fae a stuffed squirrel, playing checkers, n getting frustrated when the squirrel disnae take its turn. My point is, BT Gunn had the fuckin game face on once again when he came oot for this yin. Wolfgangs a more jovial soul usually, but BT Gunn was a huge factor in his inability to finally win that belt he so craves, and he also keeps superkickin him in the fuckin face. Which tends tae be quite sare. So we had two cunts that hate each other and have done for a long while, and in wrestling terms, that usually means good shit. When the opening match on a card is as good as this was, it can go either way. Either everycunt sees/hears about it and raises their game, or they fuckin dont. Its that simple. Thankfully, the ICW roster chose option one.

I always take a wee note of the opening move in a match, cause it quite often sets the tone for how the match is gonnae go, so BT Gunn spitting in big Wolfys face tells ye all ye need tae know there. Wolfy is seemingly not hugely enamoured wae being spat on, cause its quite grotty, and if X-Pac done it, ye might get the bad Hep, so its nae laughin matter. Wolfy reacts by leathering BTs jaw, before asking the crowd if he should splash him. After getting the go ahead fae the boaysies he goes for the splash, but BT blocks it and hits an Enziguri. Goes for a headscissors takedown after that, but Wolfys having none of it. Caught yer man BT in a quite majestic fashion, and hit a sitout powerbomb if I mind right. It might have been somethin else, it might no have happened at all tbh, it aw went by in a haze of wonder tae me. Match of the night for me, and considering it was the opener on a stacked card, that takes some doing.

I’m gaun aw fanboy again, but aye…it was fuckin brilliant. BT takes leave of his senses and tries tae superplex Wolfy, after a brutal exchange of chops and forearm smashes between the two, but Wolfy of course isnae having it. For aw his fleet footedness might fool ye intae thinking otherwise, make no mistake about it. Wolfgang is a fuckin bear. Not of Damian O’Connor standards like, but he’s a big lad, and when he blocks yer superplex and lands aw his weight on ye with that Swanton yer daein well tae kick out. BT does, before they come face tae face, and BT implores Wolfy tae hit him. The big yin complied, before hitting the splash in the corner, followed by a spear that separated BT fae his Gunns. That’s surely gettin the job done eh? Nut. The NAK came tae Newcastle with the desire tae tear the place a new arsehole, or at least make the existing one a wee bit wider, just wide enough tae stick Middlesborough right up it, and that’s exactly what they done.

Renfrew comes oot wae the briefcase in hand, and Wolfy got fuckin smashed wae it. I mean, I’ve seen a few briefcase hits in my time and they often just graze the recipient. More of a “smell ma briefcase…get it smellt..its the good stuff!” type situation than a proper attack, but make nae mistake. This briefcase hit was designed tae maim, and maim it certainly did. BT covers his stricken opponent and thats objective one for the NAK completed. Make a Wolfy shaped dent in Renfrews briefcase and go hame wae the win.

I really fuckin hope these two have another go at it though. Cannae put my finger on exactly why this one grabbed me so much, but considering I had a shite view, and I’m fairly certain I wis being eyed up by a man in a bowler hat for a bitta beard stroking ad baw cuppin, I overcame those things and got totally invested in this match. Cannae speak highly enough of it really. Love aw the tag stuff wit the NAK, Buckys and Sumerian Death Squad, but for in terms of storytelling n one on one matches, BT Gunn is up there wae the best of them in ICW for me. His past two singles matches have been pure unadulterated belters.

Stoater of a match, and theres still 6 good yins tae go! Strap yersells in troops, this yins gonnae be wordy as fuck.

Liam Thomson and Carmel vs Stevie Boy and Kay Lee Ray

The Wee Man has some patter for Carmel and Liam before this yin got intae aw the fightin n that. Refers to them as the “cut price Kimye” if I recall correctly. I fancied this to steal match of the night, and while it didnae quite dae that, its was a scintillating. Carmel and Liam Thomson have more momentum than a shopping trolly fulla Ginsters pies gettin pushed doon a hill though,and its as deserved a push as I’ve seen in wrestling for a long time, cause there are few better than Liam Thomson on the Scottish scene right now. He’s been an unheralded workhorse for a while, but I’m willing tae bet most cunts who have stepped in the ring wae him would regard him as one of their best opponents. Adaptable and never misses a beat when it comes tae execution. Similar tae Bret Hart in that way. Disnae dae anything flashy in terms of eye catching spots, cause he disnae need them. His work in the ring speaks for itself. Carmel anaw. Her and Kay Lee Ray should be travelling the world and showing everycunt the matches they huv together. The fact that they produced that magic they did at Daves Not Here Man, and almost a year later there’s still nae rematch, makes me sad as fuck. This brawness would just have tae do I spose eh? Starts off wae some cagey shenanigans between Stevie and Liam Thomson, exchanging wristlocks and sideheadlocks, before Stevie takes Thomson off his feet wae a dropkick, followed by a bulldog. Gets Kay Lee in wae a tag which if I mind right involved a wee peck, and that just marvellous so it is. As an enthusiast of winchin burds wae brightly coloured hair, it ticked aw the boxes. Kay Lee fires intae some forearms in the corner, before hitting a flying crossbody as this yin got intae the pace I expected of it. Stevie and Kay Lee delivered a double hiptoss after that, which in wrestling terms basically means they got married. Thats whit happens when two wrestlers get married, they dae a double hiptoss or the 3D, they exchange belts, and seal it wae a Glesga Kiss.

Things got a wee bit outta hand after that, and I’ll no tell ye any lies, there were some near death experiences. Namely Stevie taking a spine displacing backdrop on the ramp. I dunno if it was the ramp itself, of the poor cunts back, but aw ye heard was a thunderous snap when he landed. He survided though. Carmel and Kay Lee finally got intae it after that, and it wis fuckin capitvating. Its always captivating. In terms of specifics, I mind a snapmare outta the corner fae Kay Lee Ray, followed by somethin sare, and a Fishermans Suplex fae Carmel which has become a staple in her diet of really good technical wrestling stuff. She knows, ye know? She just does. So does Kay Lee. Sometimes folk can have aw the tools, but they dont know how tae use them properly These two have aw the tools, use them properly, and they’re away aff inventing their ain tools at the same time. New and exciting tools used tae smash fuck outta various wrasslin burds across the globe, and perhaps leave an indent of yer big toe in their daft arses. Sorry I get a bit excited by properly good womens wrestling. When ye watch a lot of WWE stuff, it kinda scunners ye in that regard, but these two crackers always manage tae restore my faith. Anyway, Liam Thomson and Kay Lee have a wee exchange after that, before we get that wee Matrix spot, wae clotheslines being evaded in spectacular fashion, before Stevie and Kay Lee hit a pair of Enziguris. Kay Lee went for the Swanton after that, but it didnae hit the mark. Carmel hits the hanging DDT fae the top rope, only tae find herself in deep fuckin trouble. Aw FUCK. I haver shite about the Canadian Destoryer aw the time, but I dunno if I could process an inter-gender version of it. Its just too much. So many flips. What if Carmels tits fell aff or suhin? I’m nae scientist, but if yer flipped as many times as that in a short space of time, a tit could fall aff. Thats why ye cannae dae the Canadian Destroyer on chubbier guy wrestlers either, cause the risk of tits falling aff isnae a risk worth taking. Liam Thomson decides he likes his burd wae both tits still attached, so he hits the Backcracker on Stevie before he  can dae the dirty deed, and once again the power couple emerge victorious.

Stevie and Davey have the tag belts obviously, so Stevie needs tae be cutin aboot defending them, but theres definitely somethin in this wee inter-gender feud. Chemistry between all 4 is spot on. A rematch is somethin not to be sniffed at. Fire some ladders in the mix somehow anaw, cause ladder matches make ma erogenous zones tingle. Every single one of them. At the same time. Whit wis I fuckin sayin? Oh aye. More wrestling. Hunners ae it.

Joe Coffey vs Damo (Joe Hendry Special Ref) 

Love or hate Joe Hendry, he’s entertainment. He has aw the tools tae be hugely successful cause he makes his mark on every show. Often in different ways. Sleekit heel ref wae stripes on his tap AND wrasslin pants? Has that ever been done before? Stripey as fuck. Joe Coffey comes oot tae a wee chant in the tune of Adam Roses theme, intertwined wae the iron man one. He seemed tae enjoy the acclaim. He seemed tae enjoy wrestling this bear anaw. I refer tae him as a bear aw the time, and it sounds like I’m making light of the cunt. He isnae just a big angry hairy guy or that, he’s a very talented wrestler anaw and this match was a hard hitting beauty. Reminded me a lot of Joes match wae Rampage Brown at SWA last year. Yer classic heavyweight battle. Started off wae a sucession of shouldertackles wae varying success rates, before Damo goads Joe Hendry by busting oot his finisher fae naewhere. Goes for the cover after hitting the Fallaway Slam (Freak of Bearture? Nah that’s shite, forget I even mentioned it eh..Fallaway Slam will dae) Hendry decides enough is enough, he’s had the pish ripped out him one too many times, an thats him away. Up the road. We need a fuckin replacement out here guys. We need a hero. Chris Hero? Nah unfortunately he wis naewhere in the vicinity, but why call for hero when ye can have the bollocks? Out comes Kenny Williams tae save the day, cause Joe Hendry might make thing better, but Kenny Williams makes things fuckin EXCITING.

No a lot of excitement here right enough, cause Kenny Williams is there tae dae a job. Thats why folk love the cunt. Cause he gets the fuckin job done no matter whit. if the job is tae be an inciredibly talented wrestler, he does that. If the job is tae be the Mike Chioda of ICW and ref a match right doon the middle, that gets done anaw. Kenny Williams gets shit done. Joe wis gettin stuff done anaw, namely some stiff forearms and uppercuts, followed by a snapmare and a knee to the back. An exchange of chops is suceeded by a wee trip tae the outside where bodies clattered aff steel quite a lot. Then we saw something spectacular. It might only have been 2 or 3 rotations, if that, but Joe Coffey swung a 22 stone man. He spun him right round, baby right round, like a grizzly bear. Round and fuckin round. Unreal. Big Damo is dazed, but no confused as he knows the proportionate respond tae gettin swung is tae stand on the swingers chest. Simple as that. Does anything even happen when ye staun on an Iron Man? Does he feel pain like us mortals? Damo goe sfor it anyway, and he didnae just dae it once. Stood on poor Joes chest twice, and the second time his spleen came flyin oot his mooth, and intae Kenny Williams top pocket as he overseen the action wae a the silent professionalism of a young Tim White. Mind him? Mad ref that looked lit a cross between a Physics teacher and a potato? Or a young Eddie Sideburns perhaps.

Damo followed up the chest stand wae a Senton, before Joe unleashes a barrage. Top rope dropkick, followed by some splashes in the corner, but his attempt at a bulldog is thwarted so Joe decies tae chuck Damo over his heid instead. A German Suplex tae a fuckin bear. James Scott managed this in London anaw if I mind right. An impressive feat, but ye’ve just made him angry now Joe. And when irish professional wrestler get angry, ye know whit they dae? Rolling Sentons mate. Every single one of them since the dawn of time. If they get angry in a bar, they’ll knock fuck out ye wae various body parts and objects in the surrounding area, but at the wrestling? its Rolling Sentons aw day long.

Joe responds wae a lariats down low, before huvin his Spinning Lariat attempt blocked. Another Rolling Senton fae Damo, is followed by Joe connecting wae the Spinning Lariat, and I have absolutely nae idea when this happened, but Joe Hendry wis back in the ring daein some shady reffin and he provided a morally corrupt quick count tae condemn Damo tae defeat. Here’s the thing but. Joe Coffey’s spinning lariat usually knock cunts out anyway, so it mighta got the job done, but the ambiguity that came fae the quick count led tae Joe n Damo stompin aboot the ring like an angry Celtic version of The Bushwackers. The Local Hero Whackers, hell bent on bringing justice tae the sancity of their match. They shake hauns and agree that despite the local hero being a wank, they sure as fuck gave it everything. A proper heavyweight battle, wae the sleekitest of endings.

Chris Renfrew vs Jimmy Havoc (Geordie Rules Match)

Fuck sake. This was pure unadulterated carnage man. I’m gonnae attempt tae piece together something that paints a picture of the wreckage that wis this match, but it might no be totally accurate cause how dae ye accurately describe a car crash masquerading a a wrestling match? That isnae even a thing is it? Fuck me. Anyway. Its 5 rounds, lasting 3 minutes, and baith cunts need tae down a jack and coke, and a shot of sambucca between rounds I think. Fuck knows. It wis alcohol anyway. And round 1 started wae Renfrew flingin a chair. Ding fuckin ding. Hiptoss ontae a chair anaw, and I have a note wae something involving biting a chair, but I seriously have nae idea whit that could mean. My brain has nae recollection of it anyway, so maybe its a figment of my imagination, or maybe its a mare hardcore of the contemporary classic “Bite the chair Jimmy….Renfrew’s gaun in dry”  He hits the Package Piledriver anaw but I’m sure the time ran out in Round One before he could get the pin. ON TAE ROUND 2 THEN.. SHALL WE? MHMMM.

Round two started wae some sorts devastating chair incident. I cannae mind exactly whit, but Havoc basically knocked Renfrew oot and got the pin within about 20 seconds. So boozed up fae the shoes up, these two mentally unstable bastards ploughed on tae Round Three. Scores on the doors….Renfrew 0 JIMMEEEE FACKIN ‘AVOC 1

Round three had a variety of delights. Upto and including Renfrew gettin his napper stapled, leathered wae a baking tray, and hit wae the very same backing tray in the form of a that leg drop Sabu usually does wae a steel chair. I didnae see anything topping some of the harrowing things I seen Jimmy Havoc put himself and Jack Jester through in London, but this wis…..something else. Renfrew also get a dildo stuffed in his gub which he didnae take too kindly tae. Maybe the grimace on his face wisnae cause he didnae like it, but more cause it wis a two ender, and naecunt wis servicing the other end. As amusing as dildo mooth rape is, it disnae get ye pinfalls. Top rope hurinanranas dae though, but on this occasion Renfrew survives. Goes for the top rope Stoner but it gets blocked, and Haoc comes flyin aff the top rope only tae get caught with a sitout somethin. I dunno. Some kinda slam. He planted Havoc on his spine mate. Thats aw ye need tae know. It looked sare, it felt sare it probably wis fuckin sare. Renfrew evened the score wae the Stoner I believe after various hits wae baking trays, but fuck knows man. Seriously. CHRIS FUCKIN RENFREW 1 James Havoc 1.

At some point during the chaos, wae had yer man BT Gunn bursting on tae the scene in a Man United tap. Stevie Boy comes oot tae provide Havocs hauners, but he catches some killer boots man. More stapler based madness ensued. Whit the fuck even wis this match man? An organised stramash. A train crash kiddin on its a fight, or a fight kiddin on its a train crash. The collision of the unhinged. The death of Jimmy Havoc, or at least the death of his insides as he spewed aw over yer da and aw yer mad uncles at ringside. Ultimately, it ended in a draw. This match wisnae about winning or losing anyway wis it? It was about a concentrated attempt at the decimation of yer opponent and thats whit made it compelling, so ye know whit? They’re gonnae dae it again. Probably in Glesga. Maybe in the middle of fuckin George Square for aw we know. But they’re gonnae have one more go at it, and this time there will be a winner. And the prize is yer first ever sentence for murder via nailing a cunt tae that big Donald Dewar statue fae his nipples. I dunno how ye’d even sentence that but. Is there a pre-requisite for nipple orientated hanging murders? Aye. Jimmy and Chris agree tae dae it one more time anyway. So we’ll get the blood soaked deathwish of a conclusion we so crave. Hallelujah!

A break. Finally a break fae the all consuming sweatbox that called itself The Riverside Nightclub. People were gettin scuddy and jumpin in the tyne just tae get some sweet relief fae it. Still 3 mare matches tae go, but before that we had an appearance fae ICW owner Mark Dallas, and his second in command, the concious of ICW, Mr Chris Toal. They were oot tae gie us the whole fuckin story, cause thats whit ye get when Toal’s aboot. The whole fuckin story in this case is that ICW will be BACK in Newcastle at some point this year. Which probably means I’ll be back outside St James Park at Hauf 7 the morning after, gubbin a milkshake, wondering where the fuck I uhm and whit I’m daein. Its aw fun n games tae somedy gets wan in the eye but eh. Fuckin life. Know whit else? MARE WRESTLING!

Noam Dar vs Darkside

One of the few things I remember vividly about my first ICW show wis thinkin these two were in a tag team. Cause James Scott had a trendy wee Geordie Shore haircut back then, n Noam wis similar. Coupla trendy guys trying tae batter Wolfgang. Turns oot they wurnae a tag team, just had a mutual interest in the demise of Wolfgang, but I thought that would be pertinent here for some reason. Now I read it back, it really isnae pertinent ataw, but dae ye know what is? Tellin ye about Darkside startin the match off wae a shoulderblock. Noam responds wae a peach of a dropkick. The games have begun. There wis a spot at the barrier anaw, I cannae mind exactly. Back in the ring we a knee dropped across oor Noams windpipe, followed by somedy going up top and getting kicked aff the ropes. Noam pushes Darkside intae the corner with some sexy chops, before hitting another peach of a dropkick. Say whit ye want about Noam Dar, but theres nae doubting that he’s a dashing young lad, wae a keen enthusiasm for Judaism, The Great Khali and dropkicks. A Fishermans Suplex tae follow that, but when he went up top for the motherfuckin double stomp, there wis nae motherfucker there, cause motherfuckin darkside had motherfuckin moved. Good motherfuckin work ma man. Evading double stomps is a smart motherfuckin move bruddah.


Darkside follows that up wae a beautiful deadlift German Suplex. I could watch this cunt and Joe Coffey sling Germans aw day man. Its one of my top 5 favourite things in the world. One of the other things is drinking Milkshakes in strange places, and the rest of the stuff isnae PG, but aw they boxes were ticked in Newcastle. So cheers ya sexy bastard. There wis a powerbomb on the apron which made everycunt within a 10 mile radius of it fuckin wince, and that wis followed by Noam taking a baw hit, and being slowly but tenderly choked out wae the Triangle Choke. Probably the best match of the night technically, pretty much perfect so it is. Ma man Noam needs some momentum back but does he no? Thoroughly enjoyed the “Noam is the future” chants btw. Whoever started that up, yer ma pal and I want tae take ye oot for a slice of pizza n some Mountain Dew. PLENTY ah ice in that shit anaw. Aye but. Cracking match.

Polo Promotions (Mark Coffey and Jackie Polo) vs Grado and Johnny Moss

Jackie Polo rises from his commentary position like a Bald Eagle rising from its perch. Quite majestic. It was JAAAACKIE POLO time. I believe Mark Coffey had a chant about penguins directed at him anaw, but he disnae look the biscuit eatin type tae me fuck knows whit thats about. 😉 Grado comes oot tae the customary pop. I was shocked by how much love he got in London anaw, but this was London x 1000 so it wis. The Geordies love them a wee bitta The Stevenston Dream. Its fuckin heartening tae see and hear so it is. Folk get it. It reaches people. Even if it reaches ye in a negative way. Maybe yer sick of Grado eh? Maybe yer that guy, but it still reaches ye. Personally I’ve never not been intae the entrance, and I really want him tae jump oot, gie me his bumbag and whisper “its fulla Werthers Originals mate….wire in” in ma ear, but thats pie in the sky innit? Never actually gonnae happen is it? I mean I’m no typing this so it might happen one day, and this subliminally plants the idea in Grados heid. Thats no whits happenin here ataw. Nope. I widnae use that platform for such manipulation ataw. I’m ethical n that. Know whit wisnae ethical though? Polo and Mark Coffey stompin fuck oota Grado before his tag partner had even shown up, and thats exactly whit the dastardly, matchin gear huvin bastards did. They would live tae regret it though, as Mossy finally did manage tae finish oiling up they pulsating, probably testosterone filled biceps tae help his pal oot. (that wis a bit homerotic eh? fuckin hell, and theres still Devitt tae come, I’m gonnae sound like a total boaby merchant after this..no that there’s a damn thing wrang wae that btw! If yer intae boaby, get in aboot it)

I’m sure he hit a springboard shoulder tackle or suhin tae kick aff his late but effective hauners for Grado, but he definitely dished out a Belly To Belly Suplex, and a T-Bone suplex, both of them wae forceful, shoulder-blade smashing releases. These cunts landed hard. Mossy disnae fuck about. Grado gets in for a bit, and fires intae the shake rattle rolling, and that backwards bum hit thing he does. Mark Coffey counteracts that wae some forearms. Backwards bum hits are always best combatted wae forearms, thats basic wrestling mate. There wis some vicious chop slung at Grado anaw, and when he returned the favour Mark Coffey barely flinched. Hurt Grados haun more than it hurt Mark, but when Mossy wis dishin them oot when he eventually got in, folk were goin down hard. Grado gets back in for some shake rattle n roll shenanigans, followed by an atomic drop riddled wae tomfoolery. Mossy returns tae the fold tae hit a German Suplex throw, and while I cannae mind the spefics of who and whit exactly was involved, but I do have a very vague recollection of a Styles Calsh attempt being turned intae an ankle lock. Did that actually fuckin happen or am I away wae the fairies? I think it wis Jackie Polo trying it on Grado, but I’m no sure. There wis a Wee Boot delivered anyway, followed by a huge skull shattering lariat fae Mossy, and that wis enough tae gie Mossy and Grado the spoils. A wonderful tale eh? Commiserations tae Polo Promotion like, they fell victim tae a team who had desperation on their side. Coming together in the name of a common enemy. That can turn two relative strangers intae a very dangerous prospect so it can, and on this occasion it did. Mossy and Grado come oot the other side of it bonded for life. The perfect end tae the perfect match. Ye seem tae have forgot something though….


Johnny Moss disnae want tae be yer pal, or have a wee dance, cause he’s Johnny Moss. Johnny Moss does not fuck about. Johnny Moss was put on this earth tae eat red meat, crack eggs over the heids of geeks, and knock fuck out of guys in their pants in wrestling matches. Thats how Mossy goes about his business. He’s a wrecking machine, and wrecking machines don’t fuck about like that. Thats the thing aboot it, I don’t think Mossy really wanted tae dae what he done. He’s aw about winning, so once they got the job done he’d have been quite content tae shake Grados haun and get up the road, but Grado wis persistent, so Mossy decided tae award that persistence wae a pasting. Flung Grado aboot lit a tennis racket wae nae strings. Or a cricket bat without the eh….aw the weight..A PLASTIC CRICKET BAT! Aye. None of these are working are they? I was gonnae say he flung him aboot like a burst fitba at first, n thats the one I shoulda stuck wae I think. It makes the most sense. Aye thats the wan. He battered fuck outta him anyway, and thats led tae Mossy vs Grado being made for Shugs Hoose Perty. Fuckin magic. Mossys comin back tae Glesga intae the red hoat atmosphere that a Grado match brings. Fuckin…gies it. cannae wait for that shit. Grado’s shattered remains get scooped up wae a snow shovel and drapped straight intae Damos gub. Its aw about gains baby. Be more beast. Be more beard. Didnae really but, Grado wis awrite. He’s a warrior in his own special way so he is. This was not his day to give, nor was it his day tae get eaten.

Aw christ whits left?

Aw naw.

Nut…….Its no time. It cannae be. Where’s ma impromptu Uhaa Nation vs Kenny Williams match? Where’s ma James R Kennedy promo about the importance of anti-bacterial wipes tae the environment and how he’s fuckin sick of encountering sticky work surfaces? Where’s Sweeney? People need peed on mate. Mon tae fuck. Where’s DCT jumpin intae the crowd and solving their sex problems? Where the fucks DCT generally actually? The International Sex Hero could have came in handy. And that no a literal thing btw. I dont mean he could come on folks hauns, I meant he could be useful. Cannae believe ye’d think otherwise, thats disgusting. Fuck sake but. Naw. I’m no ready aw god ther’s his music, aw christ. Aw naw….aw naw, aw naw, awwwww naw. It’s time.

Jack Jester vs Prince Devitt (ICW Title Match)

Jesus. Soon as his music hits, I thought of about a million different reasons that he might have one more ICW match in him. A hunner million reasons. Good yins anaw. He wins the title, and has his one and only defence of it in an epic rematch fae his first ICW match wae Wolfy? That wan no suitin ye? How about he loses, but fucks Jesters shit up afterwards anyway, joins the NAK and never ever leaves spends the rest of his career sharing a flat wae Divers, and dingying aw the “Where the fuck urr you cunto?” texts he’s gettin fae Vince McMahon n Triple H. But naw. This was it. Fergals Last Stand, and he fuckin stood tall.

First he stood wae the explicit desire tae strike fear intae the hearts of men, as he emerged absolutely drenched in Kruger. Cunt was basically Freddie Kruger withoot trousers. What a way tae bow out, wae spikes insteada fingers, grinning eerily a MC Simon Casidy reads out yer list of career achievements. Aw the belts. Aw over the world. Aw the fuckin time, and he had one more he wanted tae add tae the list. Devitt isnae here for a civilised wrestling match either. He wis here tae go out in fuckin style. In all his shimmering majestic glory, he delivers a dropkick tae Jester after he hoists his belt above his head, before digging they lethal looking laws intae Jesters skull. Blood pouring down his face already, fuck me. Thats us started then eh! Goes up top and hits a double stomp, and all of a sudden yer thinking he might fuckin have this already. If he has it that means he wins the belt, but if the match ends noo thats him done without really giving us a proper send off in the form of an all consuming war. Thankfully Jester got the shoulder up and thats when thing got real. Too fuckin real. I’m procrastinating a bit cause the more I rattle on, the more it might feel like he’s no packed they glorious abs intae a wee satchel, slung that satchel err his shoulder, and walked aff intae the sunset. It cannae be over. I thought we had more time!

On the outside Jester throws a chair at Devitt and thats when the games begun. They slug it out for a bit, before heading outside for a spot of “Please dont throw me in the fuckin tyne” Where both cunts subconciously pleaded wae their opposite number tae not throw them in the Tyne. The Tyne is a body of water where yer in wae a chance of dying if some cunt throws ye intae it, cause its probably team and full of Great White Sharks n aw that that. Or as Big Damo calls them….”dinner”. Devitt comes close tae chuckin Jester in the Tyne and then I regretted gaun ootside, cause as we aw shuffled back in I’d lost my place and fun mysell about hauf a mile away, leaning on a pillar no able tae see a great deal. The atmosphere in the place was unreal though. Absolutely fuckin gripped. Gripped by the storytelling. Gripped by the sheer aura of believability that surrounds everything Devitt does. I sad Jester v Wolfgang was Jesters best defence, but this was right fuckin up there anaw. There wis a double stomp ontae a chair fae Devitt, but still nae joy. 2 count. I swear, Jesters gonnae get buried wae that belt man. He’s just no for giving the fucker up is he. Smashes fuck outta Devitt wae a hair, before hitting the elevated pedigree he does. Goes for the tombstone tae deliver the death knell tae Devitts last stand, but Devitts no ready tae slum it wae these WWE scrubs yet, and he fights valiantly tae escape. Fires some stinging chops in the vicinity of Jesters chest, before the two exchange forearm smashes tae the jaw. Even writing about it two days later is draining the fuckin life outta me man. This wis aw too much. For the millionth fuckin time, I’m tellin ye I’m no ready. Why are you forcing this pain upon me. Upon our family. God help us Fergal, please….why don’t you stay? I can be better. We can all be better. Give us wan mare chance pal. Please. Wan mare chance tae maybe melt some butter on that che….I mean wrestling. Stuff about wrestling. Aw christ here it goes. The final stretch. Aw naw…aw naw…aw naw.

Lariat fae Jester, and something that looked like AA. I cannae mind if it was an AA lookin more, or the F5. It wis fae the firemans carry stance anyway. Tombstone after that? Another 2 count. Fergal responds wae Bloody Sunday? Near fall. So many of them. Hunners. Near fall after near fall. Prolonging the fuckin pain. Awrite I’m ready noo. I’ve mentally readied myself for this. Hit me wae it. It’s time. It’s finally fuckin time.

A double stomp on top of the chair was attempted I believe. That wis the plan anyway mate. I’m sorry. It’s aw too painful now. I think I’m blockin it oot. It might have been the chair throw up top, intae the Tombstone. That’s been the finish a few times recently and it makes sense if he avoided the double stomp eh? Lifts chair aff his chest stauns up, flings it….intae the Tombstone. Lights out. I honestly cannae mind cause it aw went by in a haze of extraordinary emotional extremes. Extra sare. The Tombstone was delivered anyway, and so wis the 3 count. Fuck me tae fuck. That’s fuckin it. It really wis Fergals Last Stand. This isnae a double cross. Ladies and gentleman, the revolution will not be televised, and Prince Fergal Devitt will no longer be performing as part of the ICW roster. Fuckin hell. Aw the faces and backroom folk gather on the stage tae listen as Fergal said….stuff. Decidedly braw stuff. He said this is not goodbye. He said this is just see you later. I wish I could believe ye Fergal mate. I really dae, but my incredibly vulnerable emotional state, me and this pillar I’m leanin on cannae bring ourselves tae depend on these words yer sayin. So we’re just gonnae gently stroke each others trauma ridden faces and tell each other its gonnae be awrite. It’ll never be awrite again. Know why? Cause pillars dont have fuckin faces for a start, and thats it over. Know fuckin whit? I’m still no ready.

It was never supposed tae end.

Thank you Fergal. Thank you for everything. On the off chance ye take 5-180 minutes oot yer busy schedule tae read this havering bullshit, I fuckin love ye mate. You and ICW made wrestling matter tae me again, and for that I’ll always be grateful big man. Take care. True talent always fuckin rises, so Fergal Devitt will dae well no matter whit they dae with him. Although if yer lookin for suggestions, a certain stable who protect the good name of justice are short of a member noo. Believe in The Prince.

Newcastle took my soul guys. No gonnae lie tae ye. It has rendered me an unrecognisable pile of fuckin mush. Congratulations tae everycunt for selling it out, and congratulations to the humble wee toon of Newcastle for taking the last remnants of morality fae my existence. There wisnae much left anyway. Newcastle was a fuckin experience. Less busy and a great deal friendlier than London, but its also fulla really tall guys who shimmy intae yer eyeline when yer trying tae watch the fuckin wrestling, so I dunno how tae sum it up on the whole really. I wis really fuckin intae BT vs Wolfy, but the whole card was rock solid and its as much as I’ve enjoyed a wrestling show and all round experience in a long fuckin time. Maybe ever. Fae the journey up in the Toalmobile and the energy depleting journey of a show itself, tae the soul sapping journey back in the very same bus that held such fond memories on the road in. A bird shat on my hoodie when we stopped at one point, and I just calmly walked away n put siad hoodie the bin. It wisnae a day tae protest whit the gods were throwin at me. If a bird saw fit tae shite on ma chest, I’m sure on some level I wis asking fur it eh.

I’ll miss ye Fergal mate.

Credit to David J Wilson for the pic, and Chris Toal for hauners wae some of the specifics in the mixed tag match. Teamwork makes the dream work.


He’s coming.

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