Its week 3 of the 4 week Fringe run and much like how ICW have kept it fresh and rotated the roster a bit throughout the run, I’m gonnae write this review a wee bit differently to my usual. Minimal slang, maximum patter (I know I just used “gonnae” but….fuck up right, I’m new at this) Sometimes I think theres people think I write with a lot of slang patter cause I’m some idiot who can’t tie his shoelaces, and when asked if he knows how to “fuse a plug” responds with “fuse it wae whit?” . I can write without it, but its a lot more fun writing with it. I’m sacrificing my own personal enjoyment to write this in a more relatable way to everyone, and if that disnae get me a handjob in the bogs at the next show, fuck knows what will.
Wrestling is good. I like it. This wrestling show was probably my favourite of the Fringe run so far whilst probably being the weakest card wise. Why? Cause it was hunners of fuckin FUN. Tonnes of it. Even the stuff that was heavy on the heel work was a laugh. I like coming to the wrestling and having a right good time. I completely understand the need for scathing promos, and I thoroughly enjoy them when they happen, but sometimes its nice to get a full 3 hours without being shouted at (ironically I was actually shouted at directly during this show) I feel like its nice to get to the end of a show without seeing someone get chibbed with the arse end of a brick (see thats funny cause both ends of the brick are the same, so specifying that its the arse…sorry, I’ve lost you a bit eh?) If you can make it to the end of the show and the worst thing you’ve seen violence wise is Jester carving “I don’t like Mondays, I wanna sho…ooooo…ooot…the whole day down” into Divers skull with the corkscrew. Anyway, less of the patter, on with the the wrasslin.
First we had some non wrasslin stuff, but still hugely entertaining as the bold Stone Cold Bobby Roberts came out. Ye see, Billy Kirkwood doesn’t drink. But throughout his opening gambits (this isnae gonnae fuckin work is it? I cannae be saying shit like ‘gambits’ ffs, got a reputation tae uphold) he had a can of Red Stripe in his hand. The whole time I’m thinking “here whits the fuckin score wae this…Billy disnae booze” but we continued to roll on without him opening it or acknowledging it so I thought it was nae big deal, then out he comes. Big Boaby Roberts. Armed wae a can of Diet Coke. BILLY ONLY WENT AND LIFTED THE WRONG CAN DIDN’T HE? Unreal. Stone Cold Boab was not amused. Proceeded tae smash the can of coke over Billys heid and sling him intae the Clyde. I know, we’re in Edinburgh, how the fuck did he get him fae Studio 24 in Edinburgh intae The Clyde? IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW HE MANAGED TO GET HIM FROM STUDIO 24 INTO THE GODDAMN CLYDE.
Aw ffs, thats the wrong catchphrase eh? I’m making a total cunt of this man. Anyway Bobby insists that Billy has a drink with him tae keep himself stunner free, and Billy obliged. Everyone spilled their fuckin drinks everywhere anaw. Bobby in particular took great pleasure in soaking a young couple with matching Miz tshirts on, cause fuck the Miz. Billy poured a wee bit of diet coke on a guy, immediately apologised, and mocked the cunts clearing it up. Know why? CAUSE WRESTLING THATS WHY. Oh and btw, see that minimal slang thing? Forget it. Its aff. Cause Jamie Feerick was about to get a doing, and I have a fuckload of very slangy reflections on that situation. Also, I queried whether a slang free review would be popular, and everycunt said naw, even Joe Hendry said it wis stupid and I’m no arguing with Joe Hendry. He’s a global hero for fuck sake, oh and he was also Billys co-commentator for the evening cause Jackie Polo had serious business tae be taking care of, and Sean David’s deid. So Joe Hendry was here to make things better.
Chris Renfrew vs Jamie Feerick
Ah Feerick. Awful timing for it so it is. I’m all for a big grandiose return every once in a while, and Feerick is without doubt one of the most fearless athletes to step in the squared circle, but nah man. This isnae the time for it bud. Chris Renfrew’s had it mostly his own way for the past wee while. Aside fae getting his teeth knocked out at Shugs aff big Drew, but even that was a fruitful night for Renfrew and BT when they regained some shiny tag belts, but last week was nae fun. Last week was leaving his tag belt where it wis, and going home carrying the bottom half of his jaw, and thats why Jamie Feerick needed tae just not show up for this. Renfrew wisnae happy. Renfrew rarely fuckin is happy like, in the traditional sense. There are things he enjoys. Inflicting pain and punting weans. But they aren’t joyful things. Normal Renfrew is content though. Content wae the fact that he’s the baddest motherfucker walking on two legs, but this Renfrew? Nah. After he hilariously stoated out to “Feed The World” reminding me of my favourite patter from my first ICW show, Jamie Feerick was told he didn’t belong. Jamie Feerick had his coupon leathered. Then Jamie Feerick rallied! A dropkick, a dive, a missile dropkick. Jey MyFeericko in the house, then he went crossbody, and that was not a wise move at all. He got caught, he got hit wae some brutal looking sitout slam type thing. I think he might be deid mate. A chant circulated urging Renfrew tae kill. What followed is one of my favourite arsehole heel moves of all time. A crowd baying for blood, and yer man hits Feerick wae a chinlock. A perfectly applied chinlock anaw, wisnae like he got deliberately sloppy wae it, or lined his forearm wae stanley blades to increase the gore. Just a chinlock and a big smile that said “fuck you cunts”
A top rope stone cold stoner was attempted, but Feerick blocked, only to be caught coming off the ropes with a Lariat (dubbed Greetings From Silent Hill I’ve been reliably informed, which is possibly the best name for anything ever) and the double underhook piledriver put Feerick to the sword once and for all. That’s called the T-Virus btw. Embed that intae yer memory, cause thats the last time I type “double underhook piledriver”..dae ye realise how sare that is on the fingers? Its a lot of words mate.
Despite the doing he took, Feerick wasn’t there to lose a wrestling match in Renfrews eyes, he was there tae die. So a chair was fetched and his napper was stuck in it, only for Stevie Boy to come to the rescue. Double shift for Renfrew. Double shift against the single Bucky. Didnae even have his burd for hauners this time, but he did have the wee man, and he did have a dazzling array or kicks and flippy shit to grace us with.
Chris Renfrew vs Stevie Boy
I like Stevie Boy a lot. What he does always makes sense, and tae me that’s not something ye can teach. It comes from understanding wrestling, and he just fuckin does. Some people are technically spot on but they just dont get it. I thought that about Jack Swagger for years, until very recently. Cracking athlete and technically good, but his shit just never ever clicked. Boring as fuck. Stevie Boy’s stuff grabs ye and keeps ye grabbed. I’ll stop sooking up his arse in a minute and tell ye what happened in the match ye like, but yer man’s criminally underrated in my book. He started off like a house on fire. No just any fire, a chip pan fire. A right dense bastard. Never understood that turn of phrase like, why is doing things like house fire a poitive thing? but he hit Renfrew wae some flying forearms, and an Inziguri, before looking like he was going for a suicide dive, only for Renfrew tae either pull a fan in front of him tae stop it, or say “Stop!….Hammer time” I’m pretty sure it wis the first yin, but I didnae see it properly and the Hammer Time thing amuses me greatly, so we’ll go wae that. After Renfrew gained the upper hand on the outside, he found himself on his back, looking at the shooting Stars (cause Stevie hit him wae the standing shooting star press….thats why thats funny….fuckin laugh! you demanded patter, so here it is..LAUGH!)
Stevie went Canadian Destoryer after that, but ye cannae. That’s daft. I know I bigged up how much his stuff makes sense, and it usually does, but trying tae hit the Canadian Destroyer on Chris Renfrew isnae smart. Thats the exception that proves the “Stevie only does really smart wrestling, cause he’s heavy smart and sound” rule. As soon as he set up for it, his last attempt at it popped intae my heid, and I’m 90% sure the same outcome happened. Renfrew catches him midway through it. Alabama Slamma (he cries it the Killabama Slam if I mind right, I’m sure he threatened me once for calling it the wrang name, and he also threatened tae stab me earlier, so I assume he likes me eh? anyway..) Chops followed by a beauty of a vertical suplex had Renfrew well on top. An irish whip was reversed and saw Renfrew dwelling in the corner, but KABLAM! Stevie ran intae a big boot. It didnae actually make that Kablam noise, but it looked quite sare. A flying single leg dropkick in the mix fae Renfrew anaw. Sare as well. Sare enough tae kick our Steven intae action as he scudded Renfrew in the back on the dome with a kick of his own. Flipped Renfrew off the top rope wae his arms crossed after that, I’ve nae idea whit ye call that. Top rope arm cross suprise? The hot cross bump? Aye…that’s no bad. The Hot Cross Bump, cause theres crossing involved and he’s taking a bump. That’s logical shit right there, and so wis kickin Renfrew in the chest really hard about 5 times, cause chest kicks tend tae swing wrestling matches in yer favour, the big roundhouse was dodged though, and Renfrew hit the Stoner in response, which Stevie sold typically brilliantly, but nae dice. 1…2…foot on the rope. MON REF…..THAT’S A BUNCH OF BLOWJOBS ON A POLE SO IT IS! said Renfrew, in disgust, as he went for the T-Virus tae right this injustice, but Stevie rolled him the fuck up and that wis all she wrote.
Tae be fair, Renfrew didnae piss and moan. He didnae summon the troops out tae knock Stevies cunt in. He took it like a man. He was beaten at his own game. Card subject to alteration fuckers! Sometimes ye’ve got tae take the rough wae the smooth maneuvers.
Carmel and Sara vs The Owens Twins
This match was stoatin at FFs last month. I had notes tae review that, but I hated them and thought I’d wait tae it went on youtube before I wrote words about it. Wanted tae dae it justice ye know? Its no up yet though. When it does go up, I’ll review the fuck out of it, cause this match was cracking, and the main event between Kay Lee Ray and Nikki Storm is one of the best matches ye’ll see anywhere. This kicked off with some of the usual verbal gold fae Carmel, calling Simon Cassidy “Sweat Simon” while saying he’s good at his job wis one of the slickest back handed compliments in the history of backhanded compliments being a thing. Then she went on tae cry the Owensies wee hoors, and referenced that amazing promo in Maryhill where she also called them wee hoors. I don’t know if that’s true. They seem nice. I like their belly tattoos and the way they dae wrestling, but at the same time, Carmel’s patter can be awfy convincing. She rounds of the promo by assuring Leah and Kasey that the potato famine is over, and they should go home and fire some fuckin chips on. Maybe douse them in gravy. Wee bitta salt. The Owensies had quite e-fuckin-nough of that though. Out they came. Rid hoat after taking part and doing well in the TNA British Bootcamp thing down in London, they told Carmel and Sara actions speak louder than words, and they were fixing for a scrap. D’ye know whit guys? A right good scrap did ensue. Combining wrestling moves, with various other dramatic things. I enjoyed it a lot.
A double suplex fae the Owensies tae kick things off. I just had double suplex down, and nae idea who it was delivered to, so I had a wee swatch at David J Wilsons photies and ascertained it was Carmel. Cheers for the hauners Davie ma man! After some high octane stuff from Kasey Owens, Sara got in and took over. She enjoys choking people quite a bit that lassie. I dunno if theres any dirty connotations there, thats no for me to speculate, but if I wis tae speculate…aye. Choking out folk wae the aid of the middle rope and yer arms would indicate that you quite like choking folk and that’s alright. Embrace that shit. Forearm smashes anaw from Sara, before a low dropkick derailed her momentum. A pair of armdrags from Leah Owens I think anaw. I can kinda tell the Owensies apart these days, but ye can never be totally sure cause identical twins are identical mate. Says it right there in the name. A picture perfect Northern Lights Suplex fae Sara in there aswell, that shit was stauner inducing so it wis, before we had some real life drama. Proper edge of yer seat stuff, which is remarkable considering ICW shows are all standing. Kasey has Sara in a half crab and she’s writhing in pain man. Screaming “she’s trying tae pull ma leg ootae ma leg! help!” but just as Sara is primed and ready for tapping, Tam McLovin spots Carmel with the tarantula locked in on Leah and being the dutiful ref that he is, he reminds Carmel that the very hold she had locked in was mega illegal. For a start its on the ropes, meaning break the fuckin hold eh. Its the ropes. That’s the purpose they serve. Breaking holds and serving as instruments for Kenny Williams tae jump aff ae. So The Owensies were denied the win cause the ref wisnae lookin. Imagine that happened in the World Cup Final or somethin, theres Scott Brown, rushing through on goal, slots it away in the very last minute of the game. Perfect finish. Disnae count cause the ref’s up the other end of the park tying Allan Mcgregors shoe for him, and teaching him the “loop, swoop and pull” method.
No getting on big Tams case like, but mate. Eyes on the prize. Yer either sinnin or winning. I’ve nae idea what I’m on about now man, we had some lovely stuff before and after that wee sequence anyway. Gorgeous double team move fae the Owensies, wae a wee sidewalk slam, midair legdrop type thing, before Carmel went daft. Huge DDT, followed by that spear she’s been using. Kasey also hit something that I believed wis called the Sidewinder, but then I googled it and that’s not a move. It was a sideslam but she kinda spun Carmel round when she hit it. The Owensies looked like they were heading for the win, when both Sara and Carmel caught running knees and Bronco Busters in each corner, but after a stramash, Carmel took the win for the Glamour Gym. Totally different from their match at FFs like I said, but still entertaining. The Owensies aren’t just tits and arse, they can go.
BT Gunn vs Red Lightning
I fuckin loved this man. Not because it was a technical masterclass or anything. Not because it had BT Gunn ducking under a leapfrog and getting his napper double stomped in the space of a millisecond like the Tommy End match. Not because it had an exchange of forearms, chops and lariats that went faster than the speed of fuckin light like the masterpiece he created wae Joe Coffey. Nah. This was good cause as always, BT Gunn adapted to the opponent he was facing, and he was facing a cerebral assassin. Well..assassin might be a bit much eh. Red Lightning isnae a guy ye could see hitting the Michinoku Driver on top of a bed of nails or suhin, so he’s no quite got the same destructive mean streak as Triple Beak, but he’s a thinker. He does his shit a wee bit differently. Sometimes folk forget about the psychology in wrestling, and how vital that is in making things matter. If everycunt’s just focussed on getting their shit in, and not having a proper fuckin MATCH then wrestling is nothing. Ye might as well call it a gymnastics exhibition cause thats closer tae what you’re actually watching. This yin was steeped in psychology. This was vintage Red, rusty as fuck taking on a guy who hasn’t missed a fuckin step for months. BT Gunn has been outstanding. BT Gunn is outstanding, and this shit was….well, it was outstanding. Cause it was fuckin ENTERTAINING from start to finish, and without that, wrestling is nothing. If the crowd are hauf deid throughout your match, and more often than not end up siding wae your opponent, yer daein it wrang. BT Gunn and Red Lightning had them split down the middle, and that would indicate they done it fuckin right. I’ll stop rambling about it and actually talk about how it went down though eh? Aye fuck it.
BT went for some early chops, and Red ducked them. Sliding out the ring and sizing up his opponent a bit. Taking on some fluids (and by that I mean he dumped most of a bottle of water over his napper) and thinking this shit over. Red often gives the impression of a guy unwilling to take a doing, cause he dodges a lot of stuff initially, but more often than not, he takes whatever stuff he’s been avoiding. He’s game as fuck, and after finally getting the action going with some stomps, he made his way tae the outside and swept BT aff his feet (I dont mean he took him out for a nice steak dinner and wooed him btw, I mean he literally swept him aff his feet) before getting The Peoples Wanker persona on the go, and trying tae get an ICW chant going. He was met with some kind of insult, I hink Razor Ramon called him a “puta!” and flicked a toothpick in his eye, and Red took it in his stride “Yer right…I uhm a Puta!” and that puta turned roon and took the SICKEST fuckin kick I’ve ever seen aff the apron. Ye cannae fake that man. BT Gunn kicked him as hard as his coud and if ye looked close enough, ye could see Reds spleen fall oot his arse, grow legs and run for the hills. His spleen wanted nae part of BT Gunn, and Red was probably rethinking his how own decision tae step in the ring with the mad bastard.
A Snapmare followed by a dropkick had BT on top, before we finally had our first chop of the match and I swear tae fuck my eardrums burst man. A beautifully tragic noise fills the arena when he hits them. Got that shit down tae a fine art. Red was short of a few ribs, and probably a soul, but he rallied. Whipped BT intae the corner and hit a clothesline, before the snapmare out the corner led tae that thing where ye jump over yer opponent and kinda hit a neckbreaker type thing. I have nae idea what it’s called, but there’s a beautiful photie of it on the ICW FB page courtesy of the bold David J Wilson that tells the story better than I ever could. Michinoku Driver was attempted after that, but it was blocked, and a superkick was delivered with aplomb. BT went for the FaceFucker after that, but Red blocked that, and then the chop party got going once again. See the chops he took combined wae that kick man? I have nae idea how Red Lightning is still a living breathing human. It quickly became clear that this match was never gonnae end well for Red though. The NAK didnae really want to have BT Gunn go out there and win clean, as capable of it as he is.
They didnae want to run the risk of Red using that big brain of his tae somehow sneak it, then he’s back in ICW being a pain in their arses for the foreseeable future. Nah. They wanted tae kill the cunt. Out came Divers and Renfrew, and with Renfrew providing the distraction, Divers set up a chair in the corner, and BT flung Red intae it with everything he fuckin had. Game over. Lights out. Match declared a no contest.
Even if Red was awarded it by DQ, the NAK didnae intend on having him stick around in ICW. It was time to die. His heid was lodged in a chair, and the stomp out with imminent. I dunno what they call it when they dae the Killer Boots with a chair involved. Murder Boots? Death to Partick Thistle? Either way, Wolfgang was having none of it, and he chased them away wae a pool cue welded on tae a big spoon. As admirable as it was that he saved his pal from certain murder, it probably wisnae wise. BT Gunn left Wolfie in nae doubt that it was only a matter of time before their feud came to its gory end. I’m anticipating a fucking wonderful showdown at the Barrowlands that’ll go down in ICW history. Tellin ye man, theres something special in those two. Not that the Newcastle match wisnae stellar, but there’s a classic in front of a a crowd threatening tae tear the roof aff the place still left between them. Maybe I’m an idealist, but there’s nae better setting for that than the Barrowlands. A match that’ll never be forgotten.
A wee video appeared on the big screens showing BT and Renfrew leaving the building. Darkside never even entered the fucking building, so that left Divers. On his tod. With the task of calling out Jack Jester. A guy who whipped DCT in the fuckin face wae a belt a few weeks ago. A guy losing the plot, that usually chibs people wae corkscrews, against a Divers….I’m Divers daft but that’s no gonnae end well for you mate.
Justice for DCT
Sha Samuels vs Wolfgang
Here. Sha Samuels fuckin shouted at me. Naw. Naw it’s no fuckin funny. Naw it’s no fuckin funny, stop laughin. Yer man came out, got right lairy. Called us all a bunch of mugs, then my esteemed colleague Davey decided it would be a swell idea tae imitate the big bruiser. But guess whit? I was standing right next tae the caaaaaant and he thought it was me. So he unloads this barrage of abuse right. Gets in my face. Told me my beard had split ends. My wife was cheating on me wae the milkman. Everyone in my improv class at the local chapel thinks my shit is derivative fae some of Jim Carreys early work, and last but not least, he said my breath wis reekin. I’ll address these points one by one right. Number one, untrue. Number two, untrue..my wifes shaggin the postman. Number three, I paraphrase Liar Liar every now n then, but does that mean I deserve tae be shouted at? Naw. Number four, reekin of fuckin tic tacs mate aye? That whit yer meanin? My gub’s so fresh and clean ye widnae even believe it man. I’ve used it tae winch between 5 and 45 women, and that wis all on the same holiday tae Zante mate. I’d like tae take this opportunity tae thank Sha though. It’s always good when ye give yer bowels a wee test eh. Always good tae make sure they’re functional, cause I fuckin shat masell mate.
So whit else? Wrestling n that. Wolfgang was welcomed with an intense warmth fae the crowd. Having missed the last three shows with a burst face thanks tae the NAK killing him a couple of times. The first murder in London didnae quite take, despite BT Gunn hitting him with a chair so hard he literally had wee cartoon birds flying roon aboot his heid. So they jumped him in his own pub, and Divers stuck a knitting needly right through his eye. Deid Wolfgang. Zombie Wolfgang was still a bad muhfucka though, as Sha Samuels found out.
Wolfie took some time to salute the crowd, and Sha took some time to get annoyed at that and leather him. Forearms and jabs rained down on Wolfies napper, before he got the engine gaun. Lariats. flying shoulderblocks and a beauty of a situout suplex got him on top, before he took it outside where a succession of uppercuts, and a whip intae the barrier got the crowd tae fever pitch. A “U WOT?!” chant started surfacing, and that shit was bananas. I felt like it surrounded me. Wolfie also took a wee moment to thurst Fat Boab in Sha’s face, and I don’t mean his motorbike! (I mean his actual real life penis…was that obvious aye?) An exchange of jabs, was followed by a hard whip and a big splash in the corner. The U WOT thing was still going, but this time it felt like everyone was staring at the ceiling when they done it. Deid eyed. Possessed. It was in that moment me and Sha made in, cause he looked at me and shrugged his shoulders like “fucks gaun on here?” and I shot him a look that said “nae idea big chap!” and that was us pals for life. He used this newly formed friendship to chuck Wolfgang off the top rope, before taking him down wae a Snapmare followed by a plethora of elbows. Bit wolfies left ear aff anaw, before planting him with a DDT. Then something remarkable genuinely happened, like I was lying about folk going deid eyed and Zombiefied for the “U WOT!?” thing. That was just for jokes, but this yin genuinely happened. Folk started chanting the Eastenders theme, which is good patter in itself, but yer man Sha used it as FUEL. He HULKED THE FUCK UP and locked in a ferocious chinlock. The east end jaw suffocator he tells me he calls it. Thats a lie anaw, he tells me fuck all apart fae how much of a FACKIN MUG I am.
He got put to the word for his sins though, as my man Wolfie rallied. Forearms, big ol lariats and a spleen remover of a spear, was followed by the swanton. Game set and …
DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH…I got you in my sights, now I’m going..
It was a ruse! The NAK were still about after all, or maybe it was just Divers, but either way, it was their music, and it was time for them tae finish the job. Put it this way, if it wisnae for Wolfie’s meddling, they could have legit killed Red Lightning earlier. Killed him stone deid. So retribution was on the cards. It was a double ruse though! A quadruple ruse that’ll go down in history as the rusiest ruse in the history of subterfuge. Sha took advantage of Wolfie asking the ref “where the fuck’s BT Gunn? ahm buzin tae see ma cuzzin” and hit a beauty of a piledriver to steal the win. Yer man loved it anaw. He came to Scotland, took no end of pelters, shouted at the one guy who probably didnae give him pelters (I think I aimed a fart in his direction, but thats about the worst of it..and I regret that, I was just angry) but aye. Sha Samuels is fucking good, and that match was just as good as I expected, which is always nice. Sometimes when two big bastards like them get in about it together the chemistry isnae there and they cancel each other out a bit, but nah. The action was plentiful, and the crowd were intae it.
Sweeney vs Coach Trip
This was announced as Sweeneys ICW debut, and as much as I love ye Sweaty Simon (first the ‘its your fault’ patter and now this, best MC in the game and he fair takes a verbal doing in the process) that’s wrang. He was in not one, not two, not three but…well aye, three square go’s. Theres only been three. So he’s been in that ring before. Jackie Polo and Mark Coffey attempted tae unnerve the Ayotollah of bootin yer hole-a, but he disposed of Coach Trip in 5 seconds with the double arm chokeslam. And summoned them tae come ahead. Sweeney’s game as FUCK. The real ICW Champion and SCOTLANDS BEEEEEST WRESTLER don’t fuckin scare him. They surrounded him though. It felt like there was at least 15 of them man. A Polo Promotions army, and Sweeney was swinging hayemakers at them fae all directions, until hauners came fae an unlikely source. It’s me (Grado) It’s you (Colt Cabana) It’s Irn-Jew! (Grado and Colt Cabana)
Polo Promotions vs Irn-Jew (ICW Tag Team Title Match)
Grado ensured Sweeney that him and Colt had this yin. You get up that road and get sharpening yer brass knucks and yer pickaxe for yer showdown wae Jackie Polo next week. The Chi-Town shagger and the Stevenston Dream had some shiny belts tae defend. Initially Grado was reticent. “We just fuckin won these!” he pleaded, but Colt assured him it was fine. Jackie Polo and Mark Coffey were hilarious together btw. Ye can tell they’re bestos, cause they’ve got a rapport that’s on par wae Grado and Colts if ye ask me. I know most folk will consider that opinion stupid, but this isnae your review meht. I’ll say whit ah want awrite chief? that awrite wae ye aye? Nah seriously though, they demanded the belts be put on the line, then Jackie had second thoughts, cause he’s got a broken fuckin neck ye see. Wrestling with such an affliction is not usually an option, but after a wee game of pass the mic wae Mark, they decided the sum of their parts, even with Jackies sare neck in the equation, would be enough to give this shit a go. And give it a go they did.
Grado took a stoater of a chest slap early on and did not much appreciate it, before him and Colt combined for that patented double armbar followed by a jab to Polos chest. The double team shenanigans continued, with Grado setting up on the second rope wae his arse stickin oot, and Colt slinging Jackie Polo straight into that arse. If there’s one overriding characteristic wae Irn-Jews in ring stuff, its that it involves Grado’s arse. A lot. Colt proceeded tae cradle Grado like a newborn child, and he read him the story of “the time i dropped my pal Grado on tae Jackie Polo” It’s a simple story, basically it involved Colt Cabana dropping his pal Grado on tae Jackie Polo. The end. Mark Coffey had seen about enough and stood toe tae toe with Colt. How fuckin dare he pick his pal up and drop him on tae Mark Coffeys pal. Shit is not on. Coffey landed wae some chops, before Colt blocked a hiptoss attempt, before his sunset flip attempt was counteracted by an arse skelp. Grado got in shortly after that, but Mark Coffey was in nae mood. A flying elbow, followed by aw the chops and knees had him well on top. Grado tried tae rally by slinging all sorts of jabs at the collective midriff of Polo Promotions, but Polo booted his arse. Big lariat, scoop slam. Polo on top. Running amok. Non fuckin stop, that was until Grado Hit him wae the Electric Chair drop. Something I’ve no seen him do before, so the “Grado cannae wrestle” brigade can sook the shite clean oot my arse man. Always adding new shit so he is. He’ll never be Eddie Guerrero, or even Liam Thomson, but he works at his craft and should be fuckin commended for that. Then we had it the, the hottest of all the tags. COLT MA MAN, ITS GO TIME.
Shake rattle and roll for days. Bionic elbows tae get smellt. Colt was red hot, but his fire was short lived, after a flying bum hit in the corner was followed by Grado hitting the roll and slice, Polo and Coffey were having fucking none of it. Bridging back suplex followed by the pump handle slam from Coffey, and an inch perfect Northern Lights Suplex fae Polo looked like it had the belts won for Polo Promotions, but Colt broke the count. Polo decided he needed some help fae his trusty Polo stick, but Colt thwarted his attempts at blatant cheaters, and sent him straight intae a Wee Boot fae Grado that saw Irn-Jew retain.
Great match first and foremost. Makes me fuckin sad that Colt has to inevitably straight back tae the Chi (geddit…cause his theme has ‘Straight..outta the Chi in it?’) cause for me, them as tag champs has a lot more legs in it. Imagine they two fun loving bastards up against The Sumerian Death Squad? Could ye get any more polar opposites than that? It would be intriguing as fuck, but the chances of persuading Colt to move here full-time are slim. I’ll give it a go. I’m going tae the podcast on Sunday, and as much as I’m no huge on meeting folk I admire, just in case they’re dicks, I’ve been reliably informed Colt’s as sound as they come, so I’ll be making every effort to meet him and try tae persuade him tae move here. I’ll also be persuading him that soccer is his new favourite sport, and the famous Glesga Sellick are his new team. I know Grado’s a Rangers man, so that’ll add an interesting wee dynamic tae the the duo, and by “interesting wee dynamic” I mean they’ll instantly start tae hate each other. The Irn-Jew train rolls on tae next week, where I have very little doubt that they’ll probably drop the belts. And that’s a fuckin shame, cause I dont want the fun tae end. Fun is one of the best things in life so it is, cause unlike things that aren’t fun, its actually a lot of fun. Am I saying fun too much aye? I’ll move the fuck on then eh.
Jack Jester vs Dickie Divers (ICW Title Match)
Ah Dickie. Yer some man, but there’s a reason Renfrew’s the mouthpiece of the jaw smashing collective occasionally known as the New Age Kliq. He knows what he’s daein. That’s forte. We need somedy to start a match wae a diving senton aff he apron? You’re the guy. Divers gets on the mic and tells us BT Gunn and Darkside have went hame, before correcting himself and reminding us all tha Darkside isnae here. I know mate. Been here aw night, unless he’s really good at hidey he’s naewhere tae be found. So getting over that initial fuck up, he regains composure and calls Jack Jester out. I really have nae idea why he thought that was wise. Jack Jester has been in a bad mood for a while…probably since birth, but its been especially bad lately cause people keep attacking him and being attacked is sare. Jester emerges and lets Divers know, if he wants the belt, he’s gonnae need tae come and get it. So he stands in the crowd. In amongst his people. And bellows at the top of his voice…Dickie Divers…COME INTAE ME
Divers answers that call and then some as he kicked us aff wae a Diving Senton intae the crowd. If you’re a Dickie Divers detractor, fair enough. Entitled tae yer opinion, but did this main event bore ye at all? I mean we didnae see a lot of it cause it made its way intae crowd instantly, but did you feel like Dickie Divers had nae place being there? Nah. I didnae anyway. In fact, I enjoyed it more than a lot of Jester’s defences and that’s purely because Dickie Divers is a believable underdog. A naturally dislikeable heel bastard, but he got ye on his fuckin side. The crowd were at least split during this, if not slightly favouring Divers because this is Scotland. Even if Dickie Divers shat on his hands and slung it at yer granny, ye’d have still got on his side because we love a fuckin story. A hard luck tale wae a happy ending. This tale didnae have a happy start though, despite the senton shenanigans early on, Jester made it his mission tae make Dickie bleed. Corkscrew dug intae the napper, before we made our way intae the crowd, and again I seen fuck all. I will once again call upon the hauners of David J Wilson here, cause I had a swatch at the photies and it would appear that Jester took yon Ice Bucket challenge everycunts daein, with a wee bit more aggression than usual, as Divers scudded his dome with said bucket. An elbow drop off the bar saw Divers broken in half. Bah gawd king, he’s killed him.
We made our way back ringside for Dicke tae take the legdrop off the apron, before yer man fuckin made me believe. He made me believe he was gonnae dae it. Snapmare, kick to the dome, elbow drop. Dickie on top. A faint but audible “Dick 4 champ” chant started, and turned intae a roar. The underdog was about to have his day. He went up top though, and that wis a mistake, Maybe the blood loss fae the corkscrew scuddin was too much, cause he clearly wisnae thinking straight, When folk go up top, Jester tends tae Tombstone Piledriver them, and he did just that. Jester retains. I don’t think it was even realistically gonnae happen like, but it was nice tae get drawn in tae the underdog having a right good go. Imagine Drew wis back for a big title match wae Dickie Divers at the Barrowlands but? The almighty push tae the top Dickie Divers has been crying out for. Maybe one day eh. You assume theres some shenanigans on the go for the last week though. Darkside has a title shot in his pocket, and Renfrew has a burst brief case wae a contract and quite possibly a chib in it. Jimmy Havoc is also in the equation somewhere, and who knows, Maybe Drew will descend upon ICW once again a week earlier than expected, but it seems tae me that a spirited but unsuccessful title shot for Dickie Divers is the calm before the shitstorm coming in Jesters direction and he continues tae stack up enemies as he looks to cling on tae that belt he holds so dear.
One week left of the fringe run, if it disnae involve Joe Coffey and/or Davey Boy using his burst knee as a floatation device in a sea of fandan, I’ll no be chuffed. First week was promo daft, second week was wrestling daft, and this week was a lot of fuckin fun. I assume the grand finale of the Fringe run will be a potent combination of all of those things, wae a wee bit of shaggin thrown in maybe. It’s no a party without a bit of shaggin somewhere is it? Aye.