Got something decent planned for the morras daily thing, but whilst I don’t wish tae weigh yees down with me being a negative Nigel, I’m tired as fuck, and this will most likely be kept short, sweet, and good to eat. Like a French Fancy kiddin on its a blog post. Or eh…..I dunno. I’m all metaphored out man. This is the 4th blog post I’ve had writing involvement in today (Cause yees aw know I was the star of the show for Davies thing eh? Course ye dae) and I just want tae lie slap bang in the middle of my bed, spread out like a starfish, and gently massage the contours of my baws wae an XBOX pad on a stick.
So Smackdown eh. Smackdown being the show which I’m trying to review without slang ERRY SINGUL WEEK (that was foreign slang, so it doesn’t count….leave me alone) I worry about the slang stuff a wee bit. Someone asked recently if the spelling mistakes were a “stylistic thing” which made me wonder how many folk have opened a link to my stuff and found it unintelligible. Writing the way I speak is undoubtedly more fun than writing like this and opens up a million different ways to make things funny, but I can do it this way and still be the most hilarious wrestling reviewer in the fuckin land. Know why? Cause I’m dead clever (my maw tells me that anyway) and for all the comedy possibilities that come along with slang, they can be completely overshadowed by a well timed swear word. So lets gets plain English, and let’s get sweary! C’mon. Walk with me. It’ll be good.
Martin Smith (aka the fuckin boss) – Puttin this up cause its funny, but he also attempts to assassinate my character on numerous occasions and I will not be fucking standing for that, so I’ll be addressing the various bits of this which attack me, in wee bits I’ll put in italics for funsies. Enjoy Daveys words but.
So aye, basically I’ve been telt that if I don’t start writing regularly, I’m gonnae lose my posishe to a new start. As much as I disagree with literally every one of martins methods, I have to respect him for this. He doesn’t play favourites. My Extreme Rules 2014 review is the most viewed post on the entire blog, I’m his best pal, and I still don’t have an automatic spot for life.
So yer ROH had their first proper PPV last night, and rather than writing a full review I thought I’d adapt this new venture intae an ROH SPECIAL BAYBAAAAAY. The show was an absolute belter and left me THIRSTIN for more ROH. I’m a casual ROH fan at best tbh. If someone draws my attention to something crackin, then I’ll go out of my way to watch it, but I’m not in the habit of watching their stuff regularly, and that’s something that needs tae change, cause this show was stellar from top to bottom. As were the two recent joint shows they done with NJPW.
Lou King Sharp is a name you might have heard and been intrigued by of late. If you’ve got your finger on the pulse in Scottish Wrestling, then everyones favourite wee dick will have undoubtedly been mentioned. I call him a wee dick in the most complimentary way possible , as he portrays that character brilliantly for PBW, BCW, SSW and PWE. So is the wee dick persona just that, or is it just him in real life? We were about to find out, as we fired a few questions at the up and coming star. Not wanting to ruin yer reading experience with spoilers and that, but he turned out to be hugely sound, and very enthusiastic about making a name for himself in a tough business. So you’ll want to hear from the man himself eh? Course ye dae. That’s why ye stopped by, so put the feet up, make yourself a cup of tea, or even pour yersel some nice cauld Lilt if that’s what you’re into pal. I don’t know ye personally, but ye seem like a Lilt guy. Kick back and drink in the goodness as Lou King Sharp explains how he got started, and who his biggest influences have been to date, as well as his aspirations for the future. Oh and more importantly than any of that…look sharp. And lookout for the cunt pumpin yer maw and/or missus when yer back’s turned.
So I had an idea earlier to do a daily post. Coming from an idea I had to do a daily drawing and stick it on the Facebook page. This is happening instead. Or it will happen till I inevitably get bored wae the idea, start phoning it, and patch it completely. I jest, but essentially it’ll be a combination of three things. First thing, any wrestling news from that day summed up with my thoughts and feelings on it. Second thing, a link to a personal favourite match of mine wae a wee explanation of why I like said match, and lastly. A drawing of some description. Thats the things. Thats the format. I’ll probably fuck about wae it, cause I like tae fuck about wae things, but aye. I like simple names for shit anaw. So it’ll be called The Daily Thing. Or The Daily somethin anyway. Cheap and cheerful. Just like masell, apart fae the cheerful part. Lets gie it a bash eh! Firstly…
Made a right song and dance about last weeks RAW Review eh? Kinda hard tae live uptae that in some ways. Namely me no really giving that much of a fuck about it this week. I started with that mindset anyway, and then the show only went and gave me numerous stauners, and sare heids wae the sheer activity of it.
It’s always been an alien concept to me, this idea of fans wanting to get “In” with the indie scene in their area, or even on a wider scale, with the big companies. There seems to be a small band of folk who feel the need to try to force their way behind the curtain and be a part of the show, and while I’m not knocking anyone who wants to be involved in the business and will try to force the issue a bit to get involved, it’s the folk who have designs on doing so when they have little to offer that confuse me.
I suppose I see wrestling a different way from those people. It’s the same with anything in the public eye. There are folk who exist on social media sites purely to post inane messages to people who are involved in a particular area of interest to them. Anything from footballers to pornstars. I just don’t get that at all. For me wrestling, football and a couple of other things offer an escape. Wrestling in particular offers you the opportunity to take your mind elsewhere, and personally its been a god send to me at times when times have been rough mentally. I don’t understand why anyone would try to sabotage that removal from reality by forcing relationships with folk involved in the business, and trying to find a way “in”, because people are flawed. Wrestling is no different to any other field in that regard. So why jeopardise your enjoyment for a form of entertainment that doubles as a bit of well needed escapism, by making it personal? Making it real? Say you became best pals with your favourite wrestler, and he wound up pumpin yer missus stupid? Not only do you lose a best pal tae a heiderin induced coma, but thats yer favourite wrestler ruined for life. Partly because when you look at him, aw ye see is a guy that pumped yer missus, and also…guys in comas usually aren’t very good at wrestling.
(tried like fuck to keep this one in plain english, but fuck it)
Point is, why take something you enjoy and sour it by involving people? People are fucked up. Universally. I think we aw sometimes consider ourselves to be more fucked up than the next guy, but the vast majority of us are just normal, mistake making, occasionally neurotic, fucked up cunts. Fucked up is the new normal, and it probably always has been, but folk are a lot more open about it these days. Willing to share their innermost thoughts and secrets at the drop of a hat on the internet, because “fuck it…its only the internet eh!” That one definitely wont backfire on ye mate! Nae chance.
That’s why I’m always personally reluctant to meet my heroes. A prime example being Fergal Devitts last appearance for ICW in Newcastle recently. I’ve had my photo with Fergal once before and everyone I’ve spoken to who’s met him say that he’s one of the nicest, most down to earth folk you could meet. Heartening to hear. He does seem like he has a lot of time for fans and appreciates that without them he wouldn’t be where he is today, but I just couldnae dae it this time. He’s been such a big part of me becoming personally invested in the wrasslin again, that I just couldnae risk it. What if he asked my name, I say “Martin” we take the photie and he says “Cheers Marvin” …Imagine that happened. I stoat away in a Devitt induced haze, before my brain clicks intae gear and goes “Haw! he just called ye Marvin!” and by the time ye look round tae correct him, the next person’s swooped in for their photie. Ye immediately whip oot yer notepad (don’t fuckin try n tell me no everyone carries a notepad at all times…I’m no hearing it) Scribble “IT’S ACTUALLY MARTIN!” on a bit of paper, roll it intae a wee baw and chuck it at him, and whilst he does read it and gives ye a wee nod of acknowledgement, ye cannae ever have that moment back. He called ye Marvin. That happened. That’s the risk ye run of making it real. So I admired from afar instead, occasionally mouthing “Please don’t go…they wont love you in WWE like we do” in his direction. The point is, people make mistakes. Someone you admire might insult you on a personal level without realising, and even if its a moment you’d brush off if it occurred in real life, it holds more weight if you look up to that person. If a man on the street called ye a “specky prick” you’d be a bit annoyed, but you’d let it go quickly. Or ye might knock the cunt out. I dunno if you’re a violent sort of chap or not. But imagine if Bob Backlund called you a specky prick? All of a sudden it takes on added significance cause its Bob Backlund, and even though people keep telling ye “He’s properly mental, dont sweat it” Ye find yersell in a support group for folk who’ve been called a specky prick by former WWE Champions, but its not a support group at all its just you and Teddy Long in a room…eatin doughnuts. Not saying a fucking word.
Fuck knows what my point is here. I feel like I’m approaching it now, but it depends which words appear as we gently approach the final countdown. Nae need tae lube up pal, I’m comin in wet (thats a metaphor of some kind…seriously…naw really..it is) Aye so…by all means, if you feel like ye’ve got something in particular that could make you an integral part of the wrestling business, then pursue the shit out of it. Tell everyone and anyone who’ll listen that you’re the guy who could make the light dance off Jamie Feericks coupon in a way that makes him look like a young James Dean. Tell everycunt and their granda that the glow in the dark elbowpads yer manufacturing will be all the rage one day, and you should get in on the ground floor. Tell everyone that when yer baw slips out every time ye do a frog splash, that it’s not a bad thing…..It’s…a good thing, but if yer gonnae make a point of turning the fantasy world of professional wrestling into something real, don’t be too upset when it bites ye in the arse. If you value that pedestal you have your favourite wrestler on that much, don’t risk its destruction by being involved in the fucked up human side of their lives. Cause they’re just like me and you. They don’t have a fuckin clue, and you shouldn’t expect any different just cause they can properly apply a chinlock and despite your best attempts…you cannot.
So I decided a while back that if I was going to be doing Smackdown Reviews regularly again, they’d be in plain English, with maybe the odd scottish word in there, so this is exactly what you’ll be seeing here. No extravagances, no drawings, no long drawn out tangents about me having recurring nightmares that involve Batista falling down a well, into a pit of discarded placentas, and having to eat his way out. None of that disturbing patter, just straight up writing about straight up wrestling…STRAIGHT UP PATNA. Lets dae it. (sorry do it…i meant do it…like the Nike advert but less sexual…cause that Nike ad campaign was about shaggin eh? Lets not kid ourselves. Nike wanted you to use those Air Maxes you splashed out on to entice broads back to the boudoir for some high energy pumpin..No tangents though, this is vital Smackdown based information so it is…really…no honestly…wrestling) Aye…Wrestling.