The things we endure for wrestling eh. Like Edinburgh….aw the fuckin time. Nah I’m joking, I’ve grown to like Edinburgh in a bit of a sadistic way. Its nice tae look at. There’s invariably decent looking burds stoating about most of the time. Ye still get bumped into sometimes, but once you’ve experienced London, Edinburgh resembles a monastery. Serenity now. Week two of a run where ICW run shows for six weeks in a row. Seven weeks out of eight if you include London which is…a fuckin lot. A lot of any Indie Wrestling company, and a true test of ICWs aspirations to one day become a full time gig, and thankfully every show is either sold out, and close tae selling out. The interest in the product is sky high, so the only thing left to do is deliver good wrestling shows. Thats the easy part eh? We’d soon find out.
Before we had any wrestling, we had Billy Kirkwood introducing us to his broadcast colleague, the prince of patter, the professor of prattle, the king of chat, and Scotlands BEEEEEEEST wrestler/segment host. JAAAAACKIE POLOOOO. Theres an air of genius about a guy who can get a building hot by simply pacing from one side of the ring to the other, and occasionally shooting wee glances in the crowds direction. He continued this charade that he had something monumental to say, before eventually taking to the mic, announcing that CAPTAIN JAAAAACK IS BAAAAAACK; Calmly letting us all know that on August 31st, part two of the ultra entertaining, mega successful Lionheart:This Is Your Life segment will be coming at ye LIVE from The Garage in Glasgow, cause see the thing that ye might be forgetting in amongst the furore surrounding the Lionheart and Still Game appearances is that Jackie Polo was not finished, and the king of chat always has his say. Even if it takes something in the region of 35 minutes, and the scranning of 4 or 5 bits of cake. Anyway…fuckin wrestling.
Joe Coffey vs Darkside vs Kid Fite vs Noam Dar (Number one contenders match for the ICW Title)
Fatal four way matches have never really been my thing. There’s not scope for much storytelling, but with the stakes heightened and the added bit of needle with Joe Coffey and Darkside being in the ring together for the first time since their feud which led to James Scott refusing Joes offer of a 60 minute Iron Man match, feigning retirement, before later joining the NAK and returning to the Darkside (see what I did there? clever eh? naw? fuck ye then) I was looking forward to this. It also carried the novelty of seeing Noam Dar in the ring with one of his original trainers and the king of swing(ing bollocks) Kid Fite, immediately Coffey and Darkside make their way to the outside, wae Joe delivering uppercuts and telling Darkside tae not bother his arse about what Fito and Dar are doing, they’ve got business tae take care of.
Kid Fite and Noam had barely locked up for a minute before we had our first attempted teabagging, after Dars dropkick was followed by a Kid Fite teabag attempt, only for Noam Dar to reach up and grab the brass baws. Quite often when a wrestler reaches upwards and grabs something, its a significant moment in his/her career. Its often either a belt, or at least some kind of contact of significance hanging over the ring. This time was a wee bit different. This time it was about self preservation. Namely Noam preserving his innocent wee gub from being populated by baws. This is not Kid Fites first time when it comes to art of a baw joust though, and he quickly gets a grip of Noams St Davids (I’m sure I referred to something else Noam related wae St David, I really need more jewish references, theres still a Colt Cabana match tae review ffs) and we had us a good old fashioned standoff. Whoever blinks first, walks lopsided for life. Its all fun and games till somebody loses a baw. They decide to call a truce, and instead focus their energies on leathering the two suplex machines knocking 7 shades of shite out of each other on the outside. Coffey and Darkside manage to get the ring to themselves, and exchange forearm smashes, before Joe gets Darkside up intae the Alabama Slam position and gets his newest swing on the go. The Alabama Swinga has its pitfalls though, namely the fact the most of yer opponents body is no longer in your eyeline, so Darkside could have been in amongst anything there. Could have had a wee needle filled wae rat poison and pumped it straight intae Joe’s bloodstream. Deid. One less man to care about. One less IRON man to care about. He didnae dae that though, because for all the mental shit I’ve seen happen at ICW, I’m still yet tae see a murder. Hoping to fuck it stays that way. Anyway some armdrag action, and that corner dropkick wae TONNES of hang time followed from Fito, before he turned round and got his heid took clean aff his shoulders with the spinning lariat for the first elimination. Nae offence to Fito at all here, but ye kinda seen that one coming eh? He had a shot at the belt not that long ago, and theres still a match or two left between him and yer man Liam Thomson, so as much as he added plenty tae this dance, it was time for him and his baws tae waltz up the road.
Noam Dar looked like he meant business from that point on. He always does like, but sometimes its cheeky business. Sometimes he likes a bit of a joke. A wee bit of a bubble here and there. Not here. Not when he’s in there with two cunts who’ve given him a pair of his best matches this year, but ultimately, a pair who came out of those matches with their hand raised. Noam Dar disnae need classics 5 star battles to get back in the title picture, as much as they help, he needs tae make cunts tap the fuck out, and after hitting a beautifully crisp suplex on Joe Coffey, he suddenly found himself to have Joe Coffey and Darkside in a DOUBLE Champagne Super-Kneebar. They both wretched in agony, Joe muttering “I’m gonnae lariat your wee heid clean AFF for this” in his general direction, but eventually both men reached a rope, and Darkside papped Dar out soon after with a GTS type move, that finishes with more of a flying Pele Kick. Fuck knows whit ye call it. The death knell. Something sare sounding anyway, but that was that for our Noam, and it was down to Darkside and Coffey again. Lets fuckin dance.
As soon as these two faced off, one on one again, that audible buzz I often get doon in the plum region started up again. These two had undoubtedly my favourite wrestling feud since I’ve been going tae ICW, in terms of match quality and chemistry, not a lot comes close. In fact fuck it, if yer talking pure wrestling chemistry, unless its Andy Wild vs Noam Dar, theres nothing in the same league. Other feuds have had other elements which make them special btw, but in terms of diversity and styles meshing together perfectly. This is the shit. Best. Ah. Fuckin. Gear. They start off with a brutal forearm exchange, before Darkside plants Joe with a stoater of a bridging German Suplex. Joe went tonto after that, with uppercuts sending Darkside into the corner, before Joe hit two splashes, only for Darkside to block the third with a big boot. The 3rd eventually landed though, and then it was swingin time. The swings are pleasing on the eye and effective in making everycunt dizzy, but its the Boston Crab that he locks in after that usual does the majority of the damage. Wae Darkside writhing in agony, it was up tae Renfrew to ensure that all the title opportunities stay in house. As much as it might be a bit awkward for him to cash in, win the belt, and have his next opponent come from his own Kliq, he’d rather fight one of his brothers than an enemy. At least the belt stays put no matter whit, and thats what its all about for the NAK. Taking over, and watching the bodies hit the floor. When Renfrew appeared, Joe of course went tae confront him and 30 seconds later he was out cold thanks the the triangle choke. Darkside is yer new Number One contender. Well…sort of. I spose Renfrew is tae, and Renfrew hit the ring with mic in hand, Darkside still in tow, we had us a number one contenders party! But Renfrew was in nae mood for jovial hi-jinks.
Renfrew cuts a scathingly brilliant promo
Chris Renfrew is not here for your entertainment. As he ascends upon the ring like Ali in his prime, or at the very least Ricky Burns before his arse collapsed. Chris Renfrew had one goal in mind when he took tae the mic after giving his pal Darkside a wee helping hand. Chris Renfrew was out there tae remind everyone that if yer not NAK, ye do not matter a FUCK tae him. As good as the NAK are at what they do, there’s been a wee bit of a problem emerging. The NAK are getting face pops (I mean they’re getting the crowd reactions a hero would get btw, thats no a porno thing, mind oot the gutter ya dirty) when their actions are that of the most despicable group of humans to ever set foot in a wrestling ring. I mean we all heard the pop Renfrew got when he came out with the intention of cashing in his title opportunity at Shugs. Monumental. Ear shattering stuff that seems to have been forgotten because of what followed. As much as most of us claim tae “get” wrestling these days, theres still a wee bit of a lack of understanding for basic psychology. In the sense that, if you cheer aw the baddies and favour them over the goodies, what the fuck’s the point in them being bad? It completely fucks with the dynamic of the show. A mixture is fine. The NAK having a wee band of loyal fans at every show? Nae problem. But the NAK aren’t DX. They aren’t yer fun loving heels, who’ll cut daft promos where the main guy’s in the scud hauf the time. Naw. The New Age Kliq are properly evil. They’ve come to take ICW over, and burn the fuckin place to the ground in the process. They’ve come to tell ye some home truths. Chris Renfrew came to Edinburgh to tell ye that shit that ye need to learn though. That ether, the shit the makes yer soul burn slow.
Renfrew paces round the ring as he delivers ever line. Each one more brutal and cutting than the last. He explains how the NAK are the last remnants of what ICW used to be about. It used to be about VIOLENCE. An empire built on the sum of its parts,in the name of VIOLENCE and now its seen as the Mark Dallas show. Well fuck that. Fuck the fact that the backstage interviewers know more about the wrestlers dicks than they do the product they’re supposed to be presenting (I assume he’s referring tae Noam Dar here btw, always knew my man Noam was a shleg) Fuck the fact that US (thats me and you…the fans) don’t have a fuckin original bone in our bodies anymore. All we dae is chant folks names. That’s it. Ye know somethin btw? He’s fuckin right there. There is a lack of originality in terms of chants from when I started going until now and a wee part of that comes fae fear of criticising folk. A lot of the funniest chants ye hear are derogatory ones, and there is a wee element of fear amongst the ICW fans to properly let some hate out at anyone. There’s nae punching bags anymore. The closest anyone gets to that status is probably Divers in terms of some of the jokey patter (and some not so jokey) ye read and hear about him, but theres also a strong band of folk (myself included) who rate Divers highly, so nothing really happens wae that. Nae chants. Maybe the occasional middle finger chucked in his direction but fuck all life affirming. Maybe we are too safe now eh. Maybe we are fuckin…impotent. Fuck knows. I think Renfrews words and delivery fuckin captivated me to the point that I questioned everything I believed in. He also had a vehement pop at ICWs resident small person, talking about him “whoring out his little body” and being a plaything for the guys backstage, but I think thats a step too far. Fuckin shockin way tae talk about Solar anyway. No fair in the slightest, that boy works hard. Does a rerr Tornado DDT. Fuckin leave it out eh.
The promo was easily one of, if not the most passionate ones I’ve witnessed since going to ICW, and it done its job. Never think the bad guys are there for your entertainment. Never think because they stick the NAK sign in the air, and you reciprocate, that makes you pals. Chris Renfrew fuckin hates you. Chris Renfrew hates me. Chris Renfrew hates the whole fuckin lot of us and he obviously felt it was about time we were reminded of that.
Chris Renfrew fancied a fight, and issued an open challenge to everyone backstage. Anyone fancies taking him on, they get a shot at the briefcase. The cunt got us again didn’t he? Fuckin Wolfgangs music. I popped a wee bit. Not as much as I did at Shugs, but there was still a pop. He fuckin got us again. He was met with an opponent though, the man. The myth, the legend, the impregnator known as Stevie Boy. Folk tend tae forget Stevie had a shot at that belt once, and came mighty close to taking it off Red Lightning, so out he came for a scrap. He got one of them right enough, just not the one he was expecting as th Ayatollah of the Atomic Bomb exited stage right, tae make way for the Pipebomb Princess. Awrite Carmel?
Stevie Boy and Kay Lee Ray vs Liam Thomson and Carmel
Know who else isnae a big fan of us? Car-fuckin-mel. As Renfrew passed her the mic, it felt reminiscent to the passing of a baton. The relay being run was the relay of FUCK THE WHOLE FUCKIN LOT OF YEES, you should feel very privileged to see our relay. She was another one that needed to remind folk that her and Liam are bad cunts, and as much as she appreciates the support and attention she’d had lately, it’s important to remember that. Carmel Jacob is a heel, and she’s fucking incredible at it. She cuts promos and every word that spills out her mouth feels like it matters. Not because the words themselves are harsh (even though invariably they are) its the fuckin DELIVERY of those words. That slow, concise passionate delivery is what sells it tae fuck. Its that delivery that makes ye BELIEVE. She calls Kay Lee a skinny bitch, and vows to kick her arse. She pokes fun at Kay Lee’s battles with some of the best male wrestlers in the country. She pokes fun at Kay Lee and Stevie posting up at the bar at after parties, being nice tae dweeby wee arsehole fans cause they’re the stupid cunts who write the reviews. Imagine wasting yer time with an endeavor like that eh? (for the record, i’ve met about 4 wrestlers, yees aw frighten the shite out me tbh, which is how it should be) anyway, the point in Carmels dose of pipebombing was the re-match of the mixed tag these 4 had in Newcastle, which was a stoater, but for me, this beat it hands down and actually pushed BT vs Tommy End for MOTN in my eyes. A slice of high flying, inter-gender jaw scuddin, gorgeousness. I’ll elaborate a bit on that shall I? Aye fuck it.
Stevie and KLR had heard quite e-fuckin-nough fae Carmel and tookt he action straight to her and Liam with a double suicide dive. After that it got a bit chaotic, wae everyone making their was intae various sections of the crowd. Liam Thomson slung a can of coke at Stevie, which he met wae a look that said “the FUCK you daein?” (I got all this from one of David J Wilsons photies btw, I didnae actually see it at the time…so much love to the big man for the hauners) Kay Lee decided to go for a wee dive off the bar (that I did see…I think) and eventually we were back at ringside tae see Stevie kicking Liam Thomsons ribs tae bits after sitting him down on a chair at ringside. The man chucks ye a chilled can of Coke for the ultimate refreshment, and you respond by kicking his ribs tae dust? fuckin not on Stevie boy. We also had both Kay Lee and Carmel diving from the top rope intae the crowd, cause they’re a couple of death defying game lassies, and its hard no tae love them for it. Kay Lee Ray was going tae work back in the ring, with a Springboard Elbow and Hurincanrana on Carmel, and we had some of the Matrix style evasion of clotheslines from both, before the match broke intae some sort of order, with tags and suchlike. Mental.
Stevie and Liam Thomson got in amongst it first, with Stevies attempt at a Shooting Star press being blocked. In ICW, there’s nae rule in mixed tag matches that dictates ye can only leather the corresponding enemy that has the same bits down below as ye, so Carmel gets in the mix with Stevie and delivers hard shoulders to him in the corner, before landing a peach of a suplex. Stevie was isolated, a long way from home. Liam Thomson hit him wae a sidewalk slam, Liam Thomson hit him wae a Belly To Back Suplex. Stevie reached out for his Mrs. Stevie got stomped upon. The power couple were in the ascendency and no ready to give that up yet, but Stevie rallied. Enziguri, in comes Kay lee for the top rope double drop kick. Forearms in the corner. Thomson attempts tae save his burds jaw from permanent disfigurement, but KLR ducked it and he clattered intae Carmel, with Carmel falling…eh…conveniently near Liams fun parts. Carmel hit that suspended top rope DDT she does on Stevie, which got a tremendous pop…fae me anyway. Then following a Stevie Boy superkick, it was the tale of two Backcrackers. First wan for Kay Lee, which she sold tremendously. Honest tae fuck, that lassie just…knows. The next one was delivered tae Stevie, and for me had all the impact. A match winning move right there. Pulling Stevie from the corner and I believe..actually cracking his back, broke that fucker in two pieces, but yer man stayed alive. He might not be a tag champion anymore, but he’s still a fighter. Moments later him and Kay Lee had combined tae hit a double team move which I’m gonnae describe horribly and probably inaccurately to ye. It was Kay Lee setting up to do that move where it looks like she’s setting up for the backslide, but she actually drops the opponent face first. I’ve nae idea what that’s called, tried finding out but got nowhere, but anyway, If I’m remembering right, Stevie slid behind to combine wae her to hit an Ace Crusher/RKO type thing, but if that’s wrang…I’M SAWRY. I tried tae explain it accurately but sometimes its tres difficile mate. Wrestling is complexed. Beautiful match though.
DCT (International Sex Hero) vs Jack Jester (ICW Title Match)
Is Jack Jester turning heel? That was the question most folk were asking after this, but the main question I’ve got…has he been a heel the whole time? What makes a villain a villain? Should I stop asking questions tae naecunt and actually write about what went down? Spose so eh. The thing that’s never quite clicked wae me personally about Jester since he’s been champ, is that a guy who built up a reputation based on his ability to dish out and withstand a lot of pain, kinda stopped doing that. Theres still violence there, but it was civilised. Almost approaching nice. That’s no what Jack Jester was ever about. Jack Jester is not fuckin nice. Jack Jester’s about pain. Before he took the belt, for me there was always a lot of ambiguity about him as a character. He got brilliant crowd reactions because of the type of matches hes known for being synonymous with ICW, but he was always a bit of a bad yin. A bad yin siding with the goodies cause he hates his fellow baddies even more than he hates the good cunts. Remember this is the man that doused Chris Renfrew in lighter fluid and threatened tae set the cunt on fire if his pals moved an inch closer tae him than they were. This is the man who chucked Crazy Mary Dobson off a fuckin balcony. Crazy Mary Dobson is..well shes fuckin crazy, but at the same time she’s also a toaty wee lassie, and he chucked her to her certain death without giving it a moments thought. This is the guy who wrote his name in Mikey Whiplash’s heid wae that corkscrew on his way to taking the belt from him. This is the guy who matched and surpassed Sabu’s level of violence when they met last year in Edinburgh. A naturally bad, naturally sadistic man. Then he became champion. Then he got a wee bit cheerier. Then he stopped seeing his fellow baddies for the true bad cunts they are. Are you telling me old school Jack Jester wouldn’t have spotted Jimmy Havoc turning on him and battering him to within an inch of his life a fuckin mile off? Course he would’ve, cause its a move he’d very likely make himself. Do ye think old school Jack Jester wouldn’t have spotted the look in Sabus eyes, when he had that chair/corkscrew hybrid in his hauns after they cleared the ring of the NAK at Still Smokin? Of course he would’ve. Do ye think the Jack Jester of days gone by windae have felt the ice cold stare coming at him from across the stage from his auld pal Drew Galloway?
Of course he fuckin would’ve. Its taken a constant barrage of beatings, and a liberal dose of mental anguish for that Jester to resurface a bit. He first reared his heid at Shugs House Party, when the guy who’d just spent the previous 10 minutes or or so knocking the shite out him, gave him the thumbs up as he made his way tae the back. Defeated. Good guy champion earns the respect of a scary baldy bastard, it should be thumbs up all round eh? Everycunt’s best pals. Not anymore. It’s happened one too many times. Jester was bizarrely summoning big Martin Stone for another square go. Theres nae trust there anymore. Soon as Jack Jester lets his guard down and lets somebody in, lets them see the sensitive side; the guy that volunteers at the Samaritans and rescues abandoned puppies, that person tends tae knock fuck out him. Jimmy Havoc had his heart, and now Jimmy Havoc has a steel chair resting on his mantelpiece wae wee bits of Jack Jesters spine embedded in it. So its fuckin over…no more Mr nice guy, cuttin about wae Grado opening yer local shopping centre and posing for pictures with you and yer weans. No more post match handshakes. Its all fuckin done, the only thing left for Jester if he has a hope of holding on to that belt, is to kill. Kill Everyone Always. Including heros. Including heros that no know borders. Including a man who’s dedicated his life to helping the common man engage in the art of love making like an uncommon man. Like a fuckin..I dunno, a French cunt or something. It was him. The international sex hero. D.C.T…and D.C.T got a large dose of K.E.A. Kill Everyone Always. You have the balls to come out and demand to know why you weren’t put on the card? Guess whit. Yer on the fuckin card. Congratulations. And in you’re first official ICW match you get a shot at the thing they all want.
Did he really get a shot at it though? Wrestling is pre-determined results wise, we all know this, but some results are even more pre-determined than the rest. With some matches, its so blatantly obvious who’s getting their hand raised at the end, that ye maybe spend the 5 minutes it’ll take to complete the formalities having a wee look at the smorgasbord of durties that Babestation have to offer. This wasn’t a match though. This was a merciless doing handed out by one man to another. It stopped being a wrestling match when Jester took his belt off and started whipping DCT viciously with it. Genuinely uncomfortable viewing from start to finish, before a Camel Clutch/Belt Choke combo was followed up by the Tombstone for the win. Uncomfortable viewing used tae be what Jack Jester was all about. Without that he’s just another guy. Without that, his grip on the belt gets looser by the show, but with that unhinged nasty streak? He might be able to cling on for a while longer. If you walk by a nutcase on the street, whit’s yer first instinct? If you’re in any way a normal person, that instinct is to fuckin run for the hills. Disnae matter how many folk you’ve got willing to stand shoulder to shoulder with you in the name of brotherhood. Naecunt wants a piece of the nutjob. Not unless they’re willing to get a wee bit crazy themselves. That’s probably what it’ll take to dethrone Jester now. Not opportunism, not downright viciousness, not wrestling. None of that. It’s gonnae take a healthy dose of the crazies.
Full match here if ye fancy a swatch
Dickie Divers vs Michael Dante
I know I went on about how the NAK don’t want tae be cheered and all that. Renfrew hates ye and wishes to left in a desert, wae a tankard filled wae unmixed gravy granules, but see at the same time? The NAK are Scottish, and see the Sumerian Death Squad? As big as an appreciator I am of their talents, and their ability tae make me shite my pants at the very sight of them, they are in fact… Dutch. Which in case yer keeping track, is not Scottish. Its not Scottish at all. So as much as The NAK don’t want tae be treated like heroes, for the next wee while (and probably all eternity tbh) Dickie Divers was my fuckin hero. He represented ME. No individually like, but the country that I very occasionally get patriotic about, but most of the time display a general apathy towards. He represented SCOTLAND and he represented one of the most dominant factions in ICW history in this match, so I am proudly Team Divers. Till the day i fuckin die. Even though someone tellt me he’s a Hearts fan. I’m pushing through learning that harrowing fact and joining together wae Tricky Dickie Divers in his crusade to tackle the beast and win. Michael Dante…come ahead big yin.
Aye…he did come ahead. He came ahead immediately at great speed in the form of a spear. Would the “theres only one Dickie Divers!” chant I had in the verbal holster ever see the light of day? Big man can sling a spear, thats for true, but my man Dickie Divers, kicked out at 2. We make our way outside for Dante to leather Dickie some more. A whip intae the barrier before our Dickie wis scoopin his twig and berries aff said barrier after Danite dropped him baws first on tae it. Theres one thing I’ve never seen how it can be done safely. Dropping someone baws first on to….anything. It happens on the ropes all the time and it must be fuckin sore eh? Theres no way to learn how to safely land on yer baws. Thats like saying theres a safe way tae get his by a bus. Its just not possible and he should fuckin STOP hurtin Dickie anyway. DICKIE SON..YOU STICK IN THERE AND FIGHT…YER DAEIN THIS FOR SCOTLAND.
Back in the ring Divers is subjected to a middle rope choke. ILLEGAL MOVE REF, SORT THIS OUT. I like yer man Tom McLovin. He was doing the iron man shift here tae. Reffed the whole show, and done it to a sublime standard, but get this big cheatin Dutch bastard under control! A scoop slam and some more general brutality had Dickie begging for mercy. Dante just laughed. He’s always laughing. Whits so funny Dante? Is it cause you’re much bigger than us all and ye think (I really dont know where I’m going wae this, I’m fuckin terrified of the consequences already, so I’ll round it off wae a joke) its cool to be a big bastardin bully, well GUESS WHIT? It is. You go right ahead and dae that big man. You go right ahead and MEET THE REAL DICKIE DIVERS. Heres comes the comeback. Snapmare into a dropkick, and a big kick had the brute rocking, but not for long as he busted out a huge lariat and dropkick of his own. Michael Dante is nae fuckin joke. The big man goes for a second spear, but Divers evaded it and hit a codebreaker type thing in the corner. This was Divers time. The dawning of the age of Dickie. That was until Dante caught up him the top rope and chucked him a mile across the ring. That was until Dante speared him hauf tae death for the 1,2,3. A tremendous effort from Divers, but it wasnt to be. Still time to level the scores though. There was another Scotland vs Holland matchup on the card, and I’d scarcely been more intae a match in my puff. Here we fuckin go. BT Gunn vs Tommy fuckin End.
I’m gonnae tell yees a wee tale before we get started on that. In Primary School, a pal of mine who had anxiety issues had to be pre-warned about fire alarms cause he had a nervous disposition and could faint upon hearing them. So at least an hour before every fire alarm, he’d get taken out of class and told. Some of the more perceptive weans (ie…me) started catching on and the whole point in having a fire alarm wis pretty much negated cause everycunt knew in advance. Point of this story? See that level of fear that meant this guy needed told in advance? I have that about Tommy End. So having him stroll out in the most casually terrifying way possible after Dante had won his match just is not fuckin on. Not on at all. I need at least an hour tae prepare for Tommy End. I get it though. Whenever it clicks that Tommy Ends match might be next, or at least I know its soon. I exhale in a loud way, that sounds like the noise yer kettle makes when its close tae boiling. A kinda squeaky rumble, and I guess that ruins the surprise Tommy End for everyone else. So this was as close as you’d get to that I suppose. A bit of surprise Tommy End, and of course. I fuckin SHAT myself.
BT Gunn vs Tommy End
If there’s one man on planet earth who isnae even a tiny bit feart of Tommy End, its the man he was facing tonight. BT Gunn is something different. BT Gunn isnae unhinged. Its not like the remnants of an everyday human are still there. BT Gunn is on another planet. A planet where if you’re not NAK, you dont understand. Ye dont fuckin get it mate. OPEN YOUR EYES. The method in which he choses to make people see what he sees tends to be a painful one. Chops, kicks, forearms, facefuckers… KNIVES. Well maybe thats a wee bit far, but BT Gunn disnae care. Tommy End is more deliberate sort of evil. Tommy End wants your mind, body and soul. Now that we’ve established that they both frighten the fuckin life out me, lets be clear about the match. If there’s been a better display of realistic…fuckin SARE looking striking in European Indie Wrestling this year, in fact fuck European…WORLDWIDE (join the force) Indie Wrestling, then somecunt show me it. Show me something that tops this in terms of the pace and realism of the striking involved. If naecunt can show me, its shenanigans. It disnae exist. Simple as that. This match was everything I expected it to be, and even more. So cheers guys. I’m greatly intimidated by both of ye anaw, did I mention that? So yer work is doing the intended job on every level.
I took a power of notes during this shit, so i hope tae fuck I can do it justice. I really dae. It’s important tae paint an accurate picture of how scarily braw this was, otherwise theres nae fuckin point is there? We started with a tieup, and a wristlock from each. I know talking about wristlocks isnae whit the cool kids are doing, but its pertinent tae how the story unfolds, so wind yer neck in. A succession of BT Gunn rollups caused Tommy End to take stock. He came prepared for war and BTs trying tae get it over and done with before we’ve even had wur hauf time oranges? What’s the score here? A huge kick from Tommy End de-railed the momentum of the oddity, before the back pf his heid parted, and a wee goblin crawled out, looked right in my direction and told me it was gonnae possess my mortal soul. See what I mean! I’m no exaggerating, Tommy End wis sent here to destroy. A hard whip to the corner followed by a suplex from Tommy End. Followed by more pacing. More menace. One thing Tommy End does better than most is building an atmosphere during a match. You aren’t just sucked in by the good shit happening in the ring, and there’s plenty of that. Nah. Its everything. He creates something a wee bit magical when he’s in there. Every single time. Cunt could wrestle Freight Train and make it look good. Tonight he wasn’t wrestling Freight Train though, tonight he had one of the best in Europe tae contend with. A running knee from Tommy End, followed by a snapmare intae a leglock of some kind. Tommy End had taken over briefly. We got in amongst some more brutal striking with uppercuts and belly jabs being exchanged, before Tommy End laid BT out with a hard scoop slam. Everything Tommy End does has emphasis on it. Fuckin everything. Even when the cunt brushes his teeth in the morning, it wakes the neighbours up. That echo coming out his terrifying gub. The faint sound of all the hostages he’s taken and tortured to within an inch of their life wailing in the background…”ssssave us BT Gunn…saaaaave us”
A kick war broke out, with all sorts of spinning sare looking stoaters being exchanges before it was finally time for the chops. Chop warfare all day. BT delivers some absulte fuckin belters. Serious life altering chops. I’d never seen Tommy End look remotely shaken up at all until this point. Until these fuckin…chops. I dunno if BT worked out a scientific formula for these fuckin things, for optimum sareness, or maybe he just discovered he could slap people in the chest really hard when he was see, and he found wrestling to be the only vocation where he can dae that and get paid for it, but no matter if his ability to do that is god given or not, he does it better than anyone. A running knee from Tommy End broke his momentum briefly, but more chops followed. A dark, sickening echo coming from each blow,. Then the facefucker (yon firemans carry facebuster thing BT does) and a low superkick for a 2 count. BTs got him on the fuckin ropes….a Single Leg Boston Crab had Tommy writhing in agony, but he reached the ropes. Then he reached for BT gunns life support, and turned the fucker off. Mind I was saying how I couldn’t see a way ye could get dropped on yer baws and it isnae properly sore? Same rule applies for what followed. BT Gunn comes running at Tommy End, and ducks underneath him, only for Tommy End to scout it, jump about 150 feet (may be slight hyperbole there) in the air, and come crashing down on BT Gunns heid with a double stomp. The impact looked how I imagine a persons skull would look after having a double decker bus chucked directly at it. Fuckin….sare. BT Gunn is dead. The NAK might have its Darkside now, but it no longer has an oddity. It no longer has the High Chief of Chops. BT Gunn is dead.
How can something die when it was never really living though? You can’t kill an entity mate. You can’t kill something that isnae human, and Tommy End found that out when BT caught him with a midair superkick, followed by a second FaceFucker for the win. Scotland 1 Holland 1.
A scoreline we could probably never achieve in any other form of competition so I’m taking it as a win. A stunning match though. In terms of striking and cohesive REAL looking violence, this will take some topping. Lived up to every single expectation I had for it. I know they probably hate each other, but there should be a lot of pride taken in the story they told us with pure unadulterated pain. I’m fair glad its done and dusted right enough, because as much as I love writing about his matches, and watching him perform. Tommy End legit gives me the fear, and I feel like the cunt’s watching me every time I type his name. So the fact that there’s no longer any reason to type it puts me at ease a wee bit. No longer a reason to type whit? Tommy End? Aw fuck. I done it again. Sorry big yin. Anti-hero and all that. Please dont hurt me.
Colt Cabana vs Grado
I’ll tell ye something before I start. If you’re a wrestling purist with nae sense of joy (sorry Connie….goths urnae sposed tae feel joy anyway) then this wisnae for you. It wasn’t a wrestling match in the traditional sense that cunts dae….wrestling stuff. It was two pals having a fuckin good time together. Performing for an audience. I’ll no lie, it wasn’t particularly my thing either. I laughed a lot during it. Course I did, they’re hilarious guys and they have a smashing rapport, but it didnae have me captivated. I enjoyed it a lot though, and it looked like it had everycunt else captivated so it done its job. Grado vs Colt. The sequel.
We started off with yon spinning thing Grado does, but he wasn’t alone. Colt was daein it tae. They’re spinning around. Move out of their way. I know they’re feelin it, cause they like it like that. Then they stopped for a breather, cause spinning round in circles gets tiring, and ever so slightly dizzy. Grado chop? kinda. I’m no saying Grado cannae dae chops like…I would never slight him in such a way, but aye…Grado cannae do chops can he? Colt shows him the way with a proper chop, but once again Grado delivers something that looks more reminiscent to him gently wiping a bead of sweat off Colts right tit. Some more shenanigans ensued, before the boys decided fuck this. A wrestling match clearly wisnae happening to it was time for a DANCE OFFFFF baby. See now, as much as dance-offs can get tae fuck, when ye see the joyless half arsedness of the WWE ones so frequently, this was a welcome bit of proper FUN, as Grado and Colt both imitated each others entrances. Personally I think Colts was marginally funnier. Particularly the way he done the Grado climb along the top rope. It was all hilarious though. My favourite bit of the whole affair. Then we had a fuckin….I dunno, something resembling a wrestling match.
Some more Colt chopping, and a REAL chop from Grado. Like if ye attached a pillow tae a BT Gunn chop, thats what it resembled but it looked fuckin SARE. Some belly heidbutts from Grado, are met with a Shake Rattle and Roll, and a big ol Bionic Elbow from Colt. Rock bottom! Rock bottom! Bah gawd King is he gonna move to become the 2, in 2-0. Do it Grado. Make yourself the king of this town. The ONLY man to pin Colt Cabana in Edumburrow Scatland TWICE, but NAW. Shoulder up from Colt, Grado called for the GTS but had it blocked. Will you FUCK use my best pals finisher. Even if he’s retired that’s HIS (and KENTAs…mainly KENTAs) Grado decided it was time go OOOOOLD SCHOOL, and that was a fuckin mistake. Mind Punk went Old School on Taker at Mania 29? How hard should it have been Punk that ended the streak btw? That match was fuckin art. Anyway, Colt hit the GTS after pulling Grado off the ropes. He’s allowed to use it of course, its HIS best pal. And Colt Cabana become the 1 in…well, 1 of the 1s in 1-1. Colt Cabana 1 Grado 1. Next goal’s the winner aye?
Well they had bigger problems to contend with before they even thought about that, because the NAKs mission statement for the first night of the Fringe run as simple. Remind everyone who the fuck they are. Remind everyone that despite Drew Galloway throwing a spanner lined wae stanley blades in the works, that they’re still here looking to take over. Out they came to break up the party. A good old fashioned leathering dished out to Grado and Colt. Killer boots all round. Before they departed team handed. Belts in tow. Colt Cabana wasn’t very keen on how the NAK decided to gatecrash this party though. After turning up uninvited to Shugs, he accused them of taking advantage of two men who had just put on the most engaging technical wrestling matchup the world had ever seen. Taking advantage of their collective exertions to stomp them the fuck out when they were at their weakest. He challenge BT and Renfrew to put they shiny newly won tag belts on the line against a TEAM of Colt and Grado next week, and the NAK said NET EHT.
The NAK don’t need to take orders from anycunt, especially not some American comedian/wrestler. So they refused. Nae tag title match next week. Fuck yees. As intimidating a unit as they are, there is one man who has the power to at least keep them somewhat in check. Eh boss. The head honcho. The big kahuna, or fuckin…I dunno. The gaffer. Its Mark Dallas anyway, and he did indeed make the match for next week. So it was said. The NAK defend the belts. They defend the belts against who? The team of Colt Cabana and Grado. And who the fuck are they? Its Grado. Its Colt.
Grado “It’s me!”
Colt “It’s you!”
The first night of the Fringe run was an entertaining affair, enough good wrestling shit to keep yer appetite whetted, and enough all round entertainment to make it a swell evening. Tune in again next week tae see…more wrestling probably eh? Hopefully a Ferris Wheel anaw, but I’m no getting my hopes up there.