ICW – 1.21 Gigawatts Great Scott Review

giga

 

The Garage has become a wee bit iconic for ICW. A lot of big shit has gone down in that place, probably including it being the place where a lot of the roster got their first smelly finger. I truly believe its the only place in Glesga where I widnae be totally ashamed to whitey on the dancefloor. It just seems like the place for whitey. I mean that in a nice way, but I’m no entirely sure what part of that could be considered nice in any way, shape or form. Either way, we were back. Ending the run of 6 shows in 6 weeks, and 7 shows in 8 weeks if ye include the London show. Know what mate? That’s a lot of fucking shows. I’m tired. It’s been fun, but please never dae this again. Unless its at an all seater stadium, with a mini fridge full of absinthe and liquid tramadol (aka heroin) at everyone’s disposal. Cause my brain and legs are fuckin sare.

This night will go down in folklore for one thing in my opinion. And that thing actually isnae the triumphant, and fucking impressive return of Drew Galloway. As brilliant as that was. Nah. This night was about two men (cousins no less) telling one of the most compelling stories I’ve ever seen told in a wrestling ring, in a match that on paper I didnae like. Nae point lying, it’s the kind of match that lends itself to gratuitous violence and fuck all else. Without storytelling, wrestling is nothing if ye ask me. So matches where the stipulation itself is the story don’t usually grab me. Not unless the two guys involved just simply know exactly how to do it. They knew exactly how to make it captivating, and executed that shit to perfection. Turning something that I was genuinely a wee bit apprehensive about seeing into something quite glorious. A wee bit like they Jennifer Lawrence nudes I suppose, I didnae want her to have a big wart wae a face on her inner thigh, or three tits, so when they turned out to be fantastic I breathed a sigh of relief (I jest..I haven’t seen them…naw really…honestly…its just a joke…don’t hit me) Same goes for Booty vs Wolfie in the dog collar match. Tae me, this just cannae go wrong. Theres such a special chemistry involved in these matches. A rare thing. There are people with better wrestling chemistry on the planet. Sure. Not fucking many of them right enough, but they exist. When you add the family element in though? Forget about it. Off the fuckin charts. I personally prefer yer Coffey vs Dar type technical masterclasses to this type of thing, so it says it all that on a card that actually contained that very match, that the dog collar match for me blew fucking everything out the water. Even Drew. Sensational so it wis.

Other things happened, before and after that. Including Billy Kirkwood caressing our earholes by calling us sexy motherfuckers, and talking about having a cock like Dolph Ziggler. I cannae remember the actual joke, so lets just assume he means his cock is pretty and extremely agile eh? Thats the kind of joke Billy would tell int it? nice and clean. We also had Jackie Polo regretting to inform us that This Is Your Life Part 2 with Lionheart would not be happening tonight, cause Rosalita was so traumatised by Hearto’s Rock Bottom, she actually hit rock bottom and got herself on smack, and the game (two heroin references in the fuckin intro, ye can tell we’re back in Glesga eh?) Coach Trip is still in the Royal nursing the burst arse Sweeney gave him, and Stu Hart is fuckin deid mate. Has been for a while. That was a zombie we seen at Shugs, and Bret still called it a 4 outta 10. So nae pals, nae Hearto. Only one thing left to do, and that’s introduce us to THE REEEEEAL ICW Champion, and Scotlands BEEEEEST Wrestler’s best pal. Mark Coffey.

Mark Coffey vs Jack Jestoal

Mark Coffey’s fuckin done. Nae shite. Nae waiting. Nae Jester roaming around backstage threatening tae bludgen him wae the arse end of a butter knife. It was happening right fucking now. Mark Coffey demands that Jester emerges. Merely to complete the formalities. Rubber stamp this application to become the REEEEEAL ICW Champion officially please. Dae it. Dae it right now. Oot ye get. Drop the belt. Leave. Low and behold, the man himself did emerge. The lights go out. A pocket of smartarses (me) start humming the Undertakers tune. It wasnt the Undertaker though. It was a man slightly smaller in stature, but with a legend far greater than even Taker himself. A gargantuan streak of his own on the go, cause he is the “3” in “the guy that got kicked in the face 3 times off Mark Coffey” and he was about tae extend that triumphant streak tae 4. He’s my brother fae another mother. Your ICW Champion. Jack Jestoal. He strolls out tae greet his adoring public. Sniffing the air like Triple H in his blueblood days. What was he sniffing for though? Shite. Thats whit it wis. Fuckin shite. Coming from Mark Coffey’s direction, cause his breeks quite clearly filled up as soon as JesToal took to the the stage. Worryingly for the champ, Mark Coffey has this habit of kicking ye in the face if he feels threatened, and he done just that as soon as JesToal stepped through the ropes. Lights fuckin out. 1….2…3!!!!!!! WE’VE GOT US A NEWWWWWW ICE CHAMPION PEOPLE. The real champ has actually become the REAAAAAAL champ. What a way to kick off the show. Wrestling can take your fucking breath away sometimes, and this was one of those moments. One of those moments where it feels like everything else melts away, and its just you, that ring, those performers, and that feeling. Tremendous. Congratulations to Mark Coffey on hard work payi….WAIT A FUCKIN MINUTE.

That’s….but if that’s him then,…who wis……AW MY BRAIN’S GONNAE EXPLODE, THERES TWO JACK JESTERS!!!!

With Jesters identical twin stricken, and partially deid, the real Jack Jester emerged to put the fear intae Mark Coffey, and send him packing. A tombstone evaded, and the sare neck avoided. Mark Coffey’s day might well come, but it wouldnt be tonight. Jester remarks that he’ll no longer be able to pick on folk like Toalar, CM Shrunk, Toal Hendry or even FergToal Devitt once Jester’s done with him. Big on somecunt yer ain size for once Mark! Jesus. It’s not like you’re the main man in a Division which encourages high flyers to take leave of their senses and leave gravity at the door is it? In case yer shite at reading subtext btw, the Jester vs Coffey title match didnae actually happen. It was all shenanigans. A lot of other stuff did happen though. Like a shiny briefcase being put on the line.

Chris Renfrew vs Grado

Sorry. I’m truly sorry. Grado is a man I like. He’s a man who I believe deserves all the luck in the fucking world when it comes to this. He deserves the TNA Bootcamp shout. He deserves to be PWE Champion. He deserves to be stopped in the street and asked for autographs. The cunt deserves this life. His dedication tae fine tuning his performance, and entertaining the fans speaks tae me man. Its 2 years of this now, and tae me its still infectious. It still works. However….the Square Go briefcase is not his. He might’ve technically won the Square Go, but at the same time he did not. His hand wisnae raised. Chris Renfrew’s was. Renfrew had the balls to lie, cheat and steal. Viva La Rasta..ya bastart.
Chris Renfrew’s life is not a mystery, for he does not need to stand alone, I hear Simon Cassidy call his name (followed by the NEEEEEW ICW Champion) and its feels like…..

Home.

Renfrew fucking HAD to retain. He just had to. I own 4 wrestling tshirts, and the competitors in this match make up 50% of that tally, so this was two of my main boaysies, but nah. Sorry Grado pal. Away and win a bootcamp or suhin, but this is not your time to emerge victorious. The briefcase is not for turning.

A chair was involved fae the get go. Cause Renfrew was not letting this slip. This does not fuckin slip now lads! He proceeded tae pull a permy out of his back pocket, drawing a face on Grado’s belly, before pink bellying him intae fuckin oblivion, as the face slowly turned fae smiley tae having that “fuck sake man!” impression. Grado slung some chair shots in this match, and I really just cannae. I’m no big on picking folk’s work apart, but man. Grado is not good at chair shots. Its fuckin Chris Renfrew yer hittin man, dont be feart. I know he’s yer pal and that (sorry….kayfabe, the friendship ended when Renfrew hit him with a car I think), but fuckin leather him! This is one of the leading lights in violence innovation, and arguably the most unhinged bald man in Scotland not called George Galloway (would you like me to be the cat?) so fuckin swing the chair! Dae it!

That was not advice he should have heeded. In hindsight, giving that chair a proper swing probably wisnae the best idea for Grado, cause it rebounded off the top rope and burst his merry onion. Renfrew attempted to hit the top rope stoner, but that was blocked. The testicular fortitude that comes wae near knocking yersell spark out with a chair seemed tae be strong, but it was derailed by a dominant Renfrew as he cleaned Grado out wae that punishing lariat he called “Greetings From Silent Hill” Thats a proper JBL style, decapitator of a lariat, and Grado sold it beautifully.As Billy Gunn will tell ye, careers can be made or broken by yer ability to sell a top quality clothesline, and Grado passed the test. Snapmare, kick to the back, then it was time (it’ time!) It’s chinlock…time…time…time. Cannae believe Chris Renfrew turned the most boring rest hold in wrestling intae a fuckin heel tactic. Imagine the heels of days gone by daein that. Mad Brusier Brody burstin Abdullah The Butcher open by locking in a headlock too tight and bursting aw the blood vessels in his heid. Away on a tangent there like, the match n that. Wrestling.

I thoroughly enjoyed the match, cause guess whit. For anyone who hates the whole Grado routine now, he didnae dae it. There was barely any comedy stuff, cause it didn’t call for it. Same as the match wae Sha Samuels in London. That was art. Old school big bad heel smashing the over as fuck face. This was similar, but closer to home. Felt more personal. As personal as a bunch for forearms to the coupon in the corner, before Renfrew committed the cardinal sin, and chief cause of cunts HULKING UP in the western world. He spat in the face…of the face. Grado said NO MORE mon frere. He aint heavy (he really isnae btw, check the weight Renfrew’s lost. Cunt’s nearly got a six pack) and he’s no ma brother either, so this cunts gettin smashin. Shake, rattle and roll. elbows. I think it was this point where Grado actually slung the majority of his kinda aff lookin chair shots, and that’s when it got frantic. We got surprisingly close to the unthinkable occurring when Grado came within a bawhair of snatching the briefcase thanks to the fuckin roll n slice! Whit a swerve that would have been. Pinning Chris Renfrew with the Roll n Slice. There was an F5 anaw. There was a two count. There was a stone cold stoner. There was a two count. It was a near fall bonanza mate. True drama. There was an F5 block, but Renfrew had his brain scrambled by the Wee Boot, and thats when yer “everyone must stand alone” becomes idealism. Stand shoulder to shoulder wae yer brother instead. Even if he pishes in yer cereal, and kids on yer not actually his brother on the playground. This isnae Primary 5 anymore. Divers no longer holds these grudges. So out he came to help his brother. He got on the apron, and showed Grado the Jennifer Lawrence scuddies, and wae a violent semi protruding fae his trunks, Grado wis rolled up for the 3 count, and Chris Renfrew remains the beholder of the ticket to greatness. Fuckin YASSSSSSSS.

Poor Grado though eh. I hoped he wouldn’t win. But he didnae deserve this. They didn’t need tae push his front teeth through his brain. Renfrew grabs the mic and informs us its Killer Boots time. I remember vividly someone in earshot of me enquiring what Divers role was in this tragedy. The answer tae that is executioner mate. Divers is one of the top 3 deliverers of Killer Boots in the NAK, and he jacked Grados jaw the fuck up. Never EVER question the Divers. Unless yer questioning if him constantly looking like he needs a shite actually means he needs a shite. Speaking of shite. I shat myself once again, cause there he fuckin wis. Suffering fucksticks. Its….Sha.

Straight outta the Shaaaa. Aw fuck. Sha Samuels is out and he quickly disposes of Grado. Calling him a spunkrag, or a shagger of wee dugs. Something defamatory anyway. Sha Samuels scares me. Fuck all to do with him shouting at me either, I jest about that, but we talked it out and decided there would be no more problems if I agreed to cower in fear whenever he’s within 100 feet me, and I duly oblige. Anyway. After ushering Grado out the ring via the toe end of his boot, he gets tae moaning about no having an opponent for the night. At this point, a triumphant Renfrew and Divers are still in the ring, but there’s nae wee heel alliance being former here. Renfrew senses the tone. He senses big Sha isnae here for an amicable conclusion, so he threw a Divers at him and bolted. RING THE DAMN BELL

Sha Samuels vs Dickie Divers

A mad sitout slam thing from Sha kicked off this impromptu battle, as Divers continued his streak of having singles matches and……well, losing those matches. He rallied like fuck here tough. A dropkick and a flying elbow debilitating Sha for a short while, but nah. Sha didnae come all the way up from whatever East London dwelling ground he came from tae be losing wrestling matches to Divers. Nae offence Dickie. I’m a huge fan of ye, and yer strangely very pink trunks, but the big man was here to Piledrive somecunt, and piledrive he did. Night night Divers. As is a big brothers right, Chris Renfrew took the help his wee brother offered, before hurling him towards the school bully and fleeing. A valiant but ultimately unsuccessful attempt from Divers. Sha was also audibly heard saying “I eat pieces of Dick like you for breakfast” on the way out the ring.  Tae which Dickie responded with “you eat pieces of Dick for breakfast??” If ye don’t get that reference, you’re no longer welcome to continue reading this review. If you did…LETS COMMENCE CHATTER ABOUT NOAM DAR N JOE COFFEY.

Joe Coffey vs Noam Dar (Best of 5 series tied at 1-1)

The tale of the Ironman, the Jew…ish man, and the gommy rope. An age old tale. One told up and down this fair land for centuries. I wouldnae call it a fairytale right enough, cause neither of these warriors could be described as fairies. A tieup, followed by Joe Coffey acting as a brick wall in a shoulder block war, and then there was shenanigans, as the top rope decided enough was enough. Sick of that bastardin shift. Being the rope that everycunt stands on all the fuckin time. NAE MARE. As the ring crew battle to get it re-attached, Joe got improvisational and got Noam in the DDT position, before spinning him right round (baby right round) and hitting a double underhook suplex. This couldn’t possibly work without a top rope though. These two give a fuck about their performance level so nae fuckin way they were down for cheating anycunt out of an entertaining time.

As they continued to work the middle of the ring with a suplex, Noam blocked Joes spinning lariat attempt, before hitting a peach of a dropkick and toasting it with the very definition of tomfoolery. An absolute laugh riot it wis as he grabbed the top rope and shook it Ultimate Warrior style. Ye see, thats funny cause the top rope was already shoogly in its own right! A forearm fight, as is custom between these two, was followed by some arm biting action. Noam Dar fair loves tae involve himself in a bit of biting eh? Setting a bad example for that smashin big dug of his if ye ask me. Just nae need for it. A release fishermans suplex took Joe off his feet, and had the Jewish lothario drippin in swag…or suhin, fuck knows where I was going wae that. One thing I noticed is that Joe wisnae shy in hitting that top rope, even though it was fixed, it was still shaky, but Joe wisnae gien a monkeys. If you cant fix your shit, that isnae his problem. Joe delivered some thunderous uppercuts, and a beautiful discus elbow as his stiff striking, long flowing brunette locks, and aptitude for scuddin jaws saw him take over.

Even with the ring problems, this was still the best out and out wrestling match on the card for me. The drama, physicality and shite’ yersell factor that came with BT vs Wolfie made it the highlight of the card for me, but this shit was still stellar. Three different toons have had the privelage of bearing witness to two of the best wrestling talents in the UK leathering each other now, and all of them are lucky bastards. They battled on the apron for a bit. As we reached a precarious stage in this feud. The midway point. Match 3 of 5. Who was getting the nose in front? Forearms, kicks and copious amounts of foreheid and baw sweat were exchanged as we dashed to the finish at a tremendous pace. Before a gorgeous exchange, led to Noam taking Joe down with a lariat. Noam couldnae get the fuckin job done though. Joe Coffey disnae make a habit of losing in ICW, and he kept on summoning the power of the Iron Man, and that gigantic set of baws he’s got in they trunks, and kept on fighting. Even an STF in the name of Cena didnae bring this one to its natural conclusion. So Noam decided tae get a wee bit…I dunno what the word is….murder-y? …

Murderous? Homicidal…we’ll go wae homicidal. No matter what adjective ye tag on, the outcome is the same. Dude decided the only to put Joe Coffey down would be tae literally put him fucking down! So off he went in search of a hammer, and lo and behold he found it. Cause this is ICW. There will always be a hammer within 50 feet of anyone, and as long as naecunt asks why that is, it’ll continue to be the case. Noam Dar is a wrestler though, and his reluctance to use the hammer, followed by Joe’s lack of reluctance to hit him with the Coffey Strirrer followed by a typically spine shattering Boston Crab led tae Joe getting the win to take a 2-1 win in the series.

Then something a wee bit exciting happened. Both Noam and Joe took to the mic. Cannae mind in what order, but the message was simple. They’re the best. They deserve a role in the company that fits the talent they possess. They deserve functional wrestling rings. The best deserve the best. Joe spoke first actually, cause he bolted after his words, only for Noam to tell him to “staun at fuckin peace…christ sake you!” (I may be paraphrasing) telling him that they’re the best two wrestlers in this company/earth as we know it, and the reason he didnae use that hammer is it might affect Joe’s motor functionality, and thus prevent him fae doing exceedingly good wrestling with Noam in the future. He then goes on tae explain how he and Joe are not the future of this company, but the “present” which wis patter I do recall reading somewhere else. Cannae think where for the fucking life of me though. Either way, we decided tae pick this beautiful series up again at match 4. At some point. In some place….some….where. It may be edging Joe vs Darkside for my favourite pure wrestling feud in this company since I started going. I think whenever the 5th match is, its gonnae blow the fucking roof aff whichever venue has the pleasure of holding it. Killing it so they are. 

Wolfgang vs BT Gunn (Dog Collar Match) 

I enjoy the patter. Patter is good. Its appropriate in 99% of places, cause it improves everything. I’m no talking my patter like, just people engaging in patter generally. This match does not require any patter. This match spoke for itself. This was barely even a match, and I mean that in the best way possible. It was drama. A performance that took the human endurance of pain right to the limit. It was my favourite match of this nature by a fucking mile, and there has been some proper good yins. Stan Hansen vs Lex Luger in a Texas Lariat match at Starrcade 90 wis probably my favourite “two guys joined together with some kind of apparatus” match. Violence is what makes these matches exciting, but storytelling is what makes them matter. Pretty much every hardcore match has violence, but only a smidgen of them have storytelling tae this degree, and that’s what made it fucking majestic in my eyes. It made ye fear for the lives of both men involved on more than one occasion, and that might no be some folks cup of tea. To tell the truth it isn’t usually what I’m personally intae, but they done it in such a remarkably engaging way. It was tremendous. Nae simpler way it can be put.

It started with BT Gunn refusing to be joined to Wolfgang initially, cause he must have a 6th sense for when cunts are gonnae throw him whilst he’s tied around their neck. Wolfie took BT down early and let out an almighty scream. Here we fucking go. BT with the headscissors attempt, only for Wolfie to catch and hit a beauty of a sitout powerbomb. Physicality, brutality, homicidality (here thats actually a word…took a shot there, and its panned out no bad) and batter-fuck-ootyercousin-ality all rolled intae one as Wolfie used the chain to pull BT intae a clothesline. A splash in the corner took Wolfie over the ropes, and tested that shogly top rope, but BT Gunn pulled him back in. By the neck obviously. Everything by the neck, cause in case it escaped ye at any point, these cunts were joined at the neck the whole fucking time. Bt unleashed a traditional round of chops, and jabs. BT was hung over the top rope and one point and choked pretty severely. I mean, his leg were getting held so he didnae actually die. See, wrestling is a performance as we all know, but theres various degree of performance exhibited from match tae match. Ye get yer technical clinics from the likes of Joe Coffey and Noam Dar, where its as safe as two guys playing passy shoot doon the park (well maybe a touch more dangerous than that, but ye get the point…they know whit they’re daein) then you get stuff like this match, that’s simply dangerous on a human level. Ye cannae be hung over a rope with a chain tied to yer neck and not be in a fair bit of danger. To take such risks for the enjoyment of paying customers is quite frankly, fucking astonishing. We all owe them a pint. Or a pint glass filled wae gold. Or heroin. Need tae fuckin stop going on about heroin. Anyway aye, surely a rope hang is about the limit eh? They wont go further than that? Well they did. They did hard. They went to a place where I’ve scarcely scene a wrestling match go, and it was….I don’t…It…..I just………………

Fuck

Never seen anything like it in my fuckin life man. I tried tae think of an analogy to match it, but the closest I came wis some stupid shite about a guy tying his dugs lead roon his cock, and throwing a ball for it tae chase. Whipping his dick clean off in the process, but as unpleasant that might turn out to be, at the end of the day, ye only lose yer dick. They grow back, so as long as ye don’t bleed out, its sound. Even if ye wanted tae keep yer existing dick, pop that fucker on ice, get yersell over the the royal and get its re-attached. With modifications if ye fancy, I’m sure they dae that. Why the fuck am I talking about detached dicks man? Oh aye. Wolfgang, whilst chained to BT Gunn, Gorilla Pressed him above his head, and flung him intae the crowd. Picture that if ye will. Picture the horror that Wolfgang must’ve felt, as he released BT intae the wild, and placed the lives of him and his cousin in his faith that a chain would be long enough to not pull his fucking head clean aff his shoulders. BT landed safely (as safe as a man possibly can when he gets slung intae a crowd of people wae a chain round his neck like) but fuck sake. Wow.

After that they continued having a match, cause apparently that’s how they do. He fucking pulled BT back in tae the ring by the neck, and pulled him (by the neck) to all four corners. Splashes rained down on and already burst BT. As this neared its conclusion, ye almost felt the walls closing in on ye man. Nothing else existed but those two mad bastards, a dog collar and a mutual deathwish. A huge spear brough Wolfie a 2 count, before BT caught him flush with a beauty of a superkick. At some point BT got detached btw. Cannae mind exactly when that happened, but that led to him being able to go up top, only for Wolfie to catch him intae a beauty of a powerslam. Deid. Game over. Wolfie got the Texas cloverleaf in next, but much like Grados efforts earlier in the night, Wolfie had no brothers to call upon. Even his cousin was a lost soul. Or was he a…eh…found soul? I suppose yer perception on that depends on if yer eyes are open or not, but either way, BT tied the chain round his leg and hit his own flesh and flood with a codebreaker. Lights out. I’m no entirely sure if you could call him the winner. I’m sure his devastated body would dispute that title anyway, but broken or not. BT Gunn took himself to 3-0 in the series, in perhaps my favourite hardcore match of all time. I dunno if it comes under the hardcore umbrella mate. I don’t make the rules, but that shit was executed sublimely.

What followed was perhaps even better, as Wolfie queried what exactly he needs tae do to get the better of BT. Open yer eyes big man. As long as its a pack against a lone Wolf, this is never gonnae end well for you. Join the family. This could all be prevented so easily. Ye see, BT Gunn might be unhinged, but he’s a good man. He still shows up tae family parties with at least a score in the card, and he’s never aff that dance floor wae aw his mad aunties and cousins. BT Gunn isnae a bad man, but for the greater good of his wrestling career, the NAK is the way. He realises that, so when he shook his cousins hand, reminded him they were family and took off, I believe it was sincere. When Divers and Renfrew rushed intae the ring and knocked seven shades out of Wolfie, I honestly reckon BT rushing back in and saving the day was a genuine gesture. From cousin to cousin. Then the logical side takes over, as he wrapped that chain round his fist and swung it at his NAK brethren. Do ye risk everything you and the troops have built for the sake of a single minded cousin? Nah mate. Dae ye fuck. Leather the wolf until he cannae see colours anymore. Scramble his fuckin brains, and tell yer maw he had it coming. As BT trudged away, selling the sullen look on his coupon beautifully, Wolfgang continued to take a doing. Another braw element added to this, with the “Will Wolfie turn?” intrigue, we have a wee bit of “Will Booty turn?” patter to counteract it. Personally I don’t think either of them will, but who gives a fuck what I think. Lets chat about the next fuckin match. 

Liam Thomson and Carmel vs The Bucky People (Stevie Boy and Kay Lee Ray)

There were a few stories told here, but the only one of any importance to me was the one in that ring. It was superb once again. Strange to have a mixed tag feud where everyone works well together in a wrestling sense. It goes by in a bit of a blur, but that a testament to what these four have chemistry wise. I love the Buckies, but its been a wee glimpse in to what the future might hold for Stevie considering this dense period of shows has fallen at a time where Davey’s been inactive, and yer man’s fuckin killed it. Singles and teaming with Kay Lee, he’s proven himself as a wrestler and a storyteller in his own right. There was patter from the Wee Man about Wife Swap, but its hazy. This is a full three days later mate. I think it was about Jimmy Krankie sittin on George Galloways washin machine or suhin, but do NOT quote me on that, either way it led to a stramash and we had ourselves a wrestling match.

Forearms took Thomson and Carmel to the outside, before The Bucky People hit them wae the BP patented double suicide dive (trying fuckin hard to get this Bucky People patter over btw….anycunt having it? c’mon, its good gear, cause Stevie and Davey are the Bucky Boys…due to both having wullies n that, but Kay Lee Ray is a lassie, so it becomes “people” instead of “boys”…now that I’ve explained the logic that should be it over as fuck eh? Aye I thought so. And naw, we cannae call them “The Bucky Collective” that’s just fckin stupid….get tae. Anyway…wrestling)

A picturesque springboard kick fae Kay Lee kicked this in tae high gear, before Thomson reeled out the snapmare into a dropkick. A lot of this action described is man on wuman violence btw, but don’t be deterred. These lassies are hard as fuck, and wrestling isnae real anyway is it? BT Gunn and Wolfgang both being hung by their necks wisnae REAL in the traditional sense of the worse, cause eh……the outcome was pre-determined (see the thing I’m doing here is playing on folk calling wrestling fake, by giving an example of something that can’t be faked…see? Its aw very clever) Carmel delivered some stiff shoulder in the corner, before getting the first near fall for her team with a bridging pin type thing. Lariats were blocks, and enziguri’s were dished out, before Stevie started slinging flying clotheslines about indiscriminately. Who wants wan for a dollar? Stevie ‘fuckin boy mate. Liam Thomson did get himself on top though, stampin on fools, and tagging his partner in crime in for some Fishermans Suplex’in. Stevie then busted out an insane til-o-whirl move that I cannae really accurately describe tae ye with anything better than “it was insane” before Kay Lee Ray was laid the fuck out with a beautiful sitout powerbomb fae Thomson after connecting with a dropkick. The standing shooting star press came out tae play, and soon after that we went backcracker daft! Aw my favourite things. I was thirsting for a backcracker out of the corner anyway, and Kay Lee only went and obliged, god bless her soul. I feel like I go on about Carmel and Nikki hunners, and just assume everyone knows how good Kay Lee is, but I’m gonnae sook up her arse a bit here. She’s magnificent. FFs was a testament to that. I love the arrogance that comes with her heel stuff, just a proper air of “fuck you, I’m the fucking best” about her. So aye. Erse successfully sooked, we’ll move on wae the match. An attempt at the double coast to coast from The Bucky Folks was evaded, before Carmel and Liam hit a backcracker/spear combination, leaving baith Bucky People out for the count.

The promo that followed from Carmel was real. In my opinion it was as real as any promo has ever been. In fact, im no calling it a promo anymore. It was a statement. Delivered by Carmel Jacob, on behalf of the team Liam and Carmel, to their good pals Stevie and Kay Lee Ray. She genuinely wishes Kay Lee Ray all the best with her upcoming adventure with that American company. Know the wan? Wae the Impacts n that. That yin. She’s away from a bootcamp, and despite how much hell they’ve put each other through in their matches over the years, Carmel lets us know that outside the ring Kay Lee and Stevie are two of her very best pals and she genuinely wishes Kay Lee well. See, that’s a wee glimpse of why ICW’s a wee bit different, cause all of that went totally against kayfabe, but it was touching and needed said, so it happened. Order was restored after they hugged it out when Carmel and Liam knocked seventeen shades of excrement oot the Bucky People, but that ‘promo’ was real, and it made me misty eyes. D’ye know whit? Not a fuckin problem wae that. Greeting in public is cleansing. Particularly if you’re a man, cause it’ll likely cleanse you of all your male pals, and probably yer burd anaw, if you’re one of these wrestling dweebs who are a aware of what the concept of a girlfriend is. I’m no one of them like, but I’m sure a few folk have achieved this marvellous feat. 

Jack Jester vs Mark Coffey (ICW Title Match) 

I really did believe. For a minute. I think thats the main plus from giving established ICW guys shots at that belt. Guys who are doing well. Even if everyone kinda suspects Drew vs Jester is on the cards for the belt, ye can still suspend that for long enough to make this excellent. Mark Coffey had an opening to show everyone that he can be the guy one day in the future, and I fully believe he took it. I’d say only that brilliant battle wae Wolfgang bettered it in terms of Jester’s title defences, but for me it was easily the best pure wrestling match Jester’s had as champion. There wis little in the way of spots, and Coffeys reluctance to engage in such hi-jinks was built intae the story. Smashing stuff. Smear some butter on this shit, and gies it for my breakfast mate.

Coffey started out strong as fuck, slinging belts, stomps, chops and jabs all over Jester. I’m never sure if Jester taking a doing is his way of “hulking up” cause he’s intae that kinky shit, but it really disnae matter. It served to make Mark Coffey look every bit like a legit contender from the word go. He tried tae get Jester over for that bow and arrow stretch, but I dunno if Jester blocked it, or point blank refused, but it didnae happen. Instead he kind of caressed him wae his knees on the ground, gently singing “proud mary” in Jesters ear, and stroking the the top of his sweaty dome wae his chin. A whip intae the ropes was followed by a vicious elbow after that. A RRRRRREEEEEAL elbow at that. Coffey starts tae feel the wrath of the champ with some stiff jabs and baseball sliding action, but Coffey cleans him out with a dropkick off the apron. Then the Coffey conundrum came intae play when Jester scudded him in the dome with a chair. The toys were in the mix, and Coffey needed tae fucin decide. Do I fight FIYAH! wae FIYAH?? Coffey consults with his Polo Promotions brother Jackie, and initially Jackie’s having fucking none of it. Stick tae yer principles Mark, out that chair doon and win this wae wrestling. A conflicted Coffey ditches the chair 3 or 4 times. Hitting that stauner inducing (a right bendy wan tae, the most agile of erections) bridging back suplex for a 2 count, before he finally decided fuck it. Chair shot. Polo agrees. It’s time. Principles are nice. They make a man what he is in a lot of cases, but in some cases, ye need tae fuckin scud Jack Jester wae a chair and become the ICW Champion mate. For REEEEEEAL. He missed the chair shot though. Course he did. Chair shots are not Mark Coffeys game. Imagine the match broke down in tae a technical battle, and Jack Jester tried a bridging German Suplex or suhin, he’s probably smack himself in the face anaw, cause sexy suplexes are not his thing, and thats exactly what Coffey done, smacked himself stupid wae the chair, before Jester of course scooped him up, and tombstoned him for the win.

Jester’s intae this habit of always shouting at folk, and its quite harsh. Ye already tombstoned him man, nae need tae get shouty. Maybe this patter was about Mark reneging on his rights to call himself the REEEEAL Champion now. Fuck knows. Maybe he was telling him the bovril he made him backstage wis tepid, and “THE CHAMP LIKES HIS BEEF DRINK TOASTY, YA CUNT YE” but either way, Coffey got shouted at tae fuck, before Polo and a few others helped Mark backstage. A believeable hard fought title defence though, despite the fact that eerycunt pretty much knew Jester vs Drew was gonnae happen at Fear and Loathing, so both deserve credit for making this matter. His involvement in the match alone, and the level of performance he produce will stand Coffey in good stead for the future.

Damo vs Kid Fite vs Joe Hendry vs Kenny Williams

This was fucking hugely entertaining. The perfect pre-cursor for big Drews return, cause it got the crowd red fuckin hot for the main event without sooking the life clean out them. Red hot for one man and one man only. The main man. Ma man. Your man. Everybodys man. The bollocks himself. The other three competitors had made their way to the ring already, Kid Fite coming out with Stevie Boy’s trackie on, before the man himself stoated out, slapped him silly and took it back….well, verbally like. They seemed tae be buddies so no literal hands were thrown, I got a wee semi when I seen Stevie come out cause I anticipated him getting in about the match, and getting a sneaky wee shot of the Zero-G for himself, but he took his trackie, the 10 snout and quarter bottle of thunderbird in the pocket, and took it the fuck hame. James R Kennedy was standing proud as punch in the middle of that ring with his main man, the bold Jose Hendry (International SEX…naw thats the wrong thing, GLOBAL hero) He lets us all know Kenny Williams unfortunately cant be there, cause JAMES R KENNEDY says so, but Kenny Williams had a replacement, and the replacement does not need money. He does not need fame. He most certainly does not need a credit card to ride this train.

THATS THE P-POWER OF KENNY

The rebirth of Kenneth Williams. Aka KENDALL MCFLY. It was majestic. Kenny Williams is the fucking bollocks and he no longer has some other cunts entrance music, or some other cunts manager, or some other cunts routine, or even some other cunts musclebound bodyguard. Nah. Fuck all that shit. Kenny Williams is ready. Its his time. Get in there and fuckin cause it son.

The match was a lot of fun. I’m no gonnae overload it wae details, but needless tae say big Damo had a bone to pick with everycunt, especially since they all decided ganging up on him was a good reason early on. Has that ever worked? Like…wae a proper big unit like Damo. I don’t think it has. The big man always gets on top, and always hits a rolling senton on some poor bastard wae a weak solar plexus and an ardent deathwish. Kid Fite went radge. Snap suplexing, and corner dropkcing a plethora of cunts. Kenny of course got the springboard elbys in the mix, and it looked like Damo was gonnae hit a double rolling senton at some point I believe, but Fito derailed it. Here’s a thing btw, my pal noticed this so I’ll fully credit him for the hauners, his name’s Mr Richard Head (but he prefers Dick, in every way imaginable). Anyway. On the way up the road he remarked that it was Trainer and Pupil in there wae Trainer and Pupil. Source vs PBW Academy, and the Academy prevailed cause Kenny is the next guy int he? He has to be. The Zero-G Division is his when Mark Coffey eventually moves on to bigger, and less aerodynamic things. Loved the finish hunners anaw, as Fito and Damo battled to the back, that left the two warring heads of the Kennedy administration to battle it out, a scintilating stauner inducing back and forth led to Kenny counters the Freak Of Nature, with a sexy wee rollup to bring about a fuckin ear shattering pop as he got the 3 count to become the neeeeew number one contender for the Zero-G belt. If Noam Dar is the present, Kenny Williams most certainly takes his place as the future.

The future got shocked right enough (dirty, sexy wee Drew reference there) as Kenny was surprised to here some encouraging words from his stablemate, and hair-chested, sweaty-vested slave driver James R Kennedy. Kennedy sounded all nicey nicey to begin with, grudgingly congratulating our Kenny on his victory, and allowing him to enjoy it with his adoring public, as the power of love rang out, wae everyone high fiving, winching, and patting each other’s eager erses tae the sound of some pure 80s cheese. But Joe Hendry had other ideas, as he ‘congratulated’ the bollocks, he proceeded to hurl him in the direction of the war machine Timm Wylie, tae spear him clean out his nu-balances. Glory for Kenny, tinged with the pain of a burst spine, but as he sauntered through the curtain a slightly broken man, he was as over as anycunt I’ve ever seen in Scottish wrestling. This is some mid 80s-early 90s Hulk Hogan shit man. Pretty much every wrestler on the roster you’d find some tube with a bad word to say about him, but find me someone who disnae like Kenny Williams, and you’ll have found me one of the many insipid fandans who’s burd Kenny shagged in one of his many expeditions to Shagaluf. Shades three quarters of the way down his coupon, so aw ra burds know. Kenny’s here one reason, and one reason only. Tae pillage yer village.

Drew Galloway vs Darkside (Winner faces the ICW Champion at Fear and Loathing)

As brilliant as this was, ye cant help but feel theres so much more tae come from Drew. Its like he gave us a wee taste, but no the full banquet. That dive over the top rope was the prime example, as brilliant as it was, ye get the feeling he was like “next time, I’m daein intae the clyde, and we’re gonnae set it ON FIRE” So aye. It was fucking fantastic, but ye get the feeling Drew is looking for more than fantastic. He’s back to prove that WWE weren’t wrong to give him the chance of a lifetime in the first place, they were wrong to give up on him so soon. He’s here tae lead the revolution.

The NAK are kinda revolutionary themselves though, having become the first stable in ICW history to threaten a pregnant burd wae scissors. They’re also the first organisation in the western world to recognise Divers as a human, and give him responsibilities that exceed such tasks as tying, and re-tying his shoelaces for hours at a time. Anyway mate, fuckin wrestling. The NAK member facing Drew was the bold Darkside, and as Dallas announced earlier, any NAK interference would lead to BT Gunn and Renfrew being stripped of the tag belts and Renfrew having that burst briefcase took aff him once and for all. Any involvement fae Jester would lead to him being stripped of the big belt anaw, so this was it. Mano e mano. The guy who first ended Drew’s ICW title reign all those years ago is once again his main obstacle to becoming the ‘guy’ again.

I enjoyed the match hunners, although the crowd definitely got a bit doe eyed about it after popping hard as fuck for Drew, and getting drawn into the feeling of it all. That’s the IT factor Drew has right enough. That’s what Drew brings tae the main event scene. Life. Life when the previous 2 and a half hours has maybe taken a wee bit of life out ye, a guy like Drew emerging gies yer sack that wee electric shock it needs. A big 6 foot 6 fuckin monster coming out tae leather somecunt. Cannae whack it. Darkside got the jump on Drew early, and his contribution made this match a showpiece. As much as Drew was the star attraction, he needs someone game as fuck in there with him, making it a good match. Never deterred by the ferocity of Drew’s striking, Darkside kept coming back for more. He kept trying to lock in that Triangle Choke, even though on more than one occasion Drew deadlifted him and flung him towards the fuckin moon. Drew also found time to hoist Darkside heid first inta the balcony, cause he’s 6 foot fucking 6 mate. That enables him to perform such moves as “getting folk really high up” A gorgeous top rope lariat from Galloway followed a splash in the corner. Cunt’s stiff man. Stiff in the best way. He hits ye. That clothesline was properly emphatic. Darkside did get him down though, and dropped numerous knees to his dome. But Drew was never on the receiving end for long. Even when Darkside got the triangle choke in briefly, Drew dedliftin it tae a sitout powerbomb. It seemed a case of him having that extra motivation. It wisnae like Darkside was proving completely incapable of toppling him, but everything he flung at Drew, Drew was coming back with something stiffer. Something more powerful. Something…better. As the “Galloway” chants rang out, Drew near decapitated Darkside with a huge boot to chops, but all the fake tan the must have robbed off on the sole of his boot knocked his balance off and gave Darkside the opening to hit a stoater of a German. The crowd implored him to deliver “15 more” but the only thing in Darkside’s future was a shock (I promise I won’t keep making that joke..its gonnae get fuckin auld man, but like…cause Drews finish is the FutureShock DDT, know whit I mean? ITS JOKES BAYAAAAY!!) as the big man planted his old foe with the FutureShock DDT to seal his place in that main event. Drew vs Lee. The battle of the superfriends.

I only call him Lee cause that’s what Drew says like. Calling wrestlers by their real names is fuckin weird unless yer copying someone else do it. Then its fine. Andrew Galloway, calls his pal Lee Greig out for a chat, and calls him a “no good pussyhole corkscrew cunt” when he initially no shows (or words tae that effect) so Jester eventually emerged, and Drew goes on to cut a stoater of a promo in the same vein as the one he cut at the ABC on that fateful night. He loves ye Jester. He didn’t want it to be this way. He didn’t want to have to knock his best pals block off, but theres a fuckin revolution tae be had, and Drew believes he’s the man tae lead it, so at ICWs biggest event, in the iconic Barrowlands, Jester and Drew will face off. There can be only one guy, and well…Jester. You’re not the guy. Drew believes in hsi heart of hearts that its his destiny to go out there and make that strap his own once again. Here but. Jack Jester’s fuckin mental.

He whipped DCT in the fuckin face (justice for DCT btw) for the sake of it, and carved his name in Dickie Divers skull. Jack Jester disnae believe in standing by and letting cunts punk him. He believes in knocking they cunts the fuck out wae his big shiny belt, and tying them to a ringpost. He believes in vanishing, only tae reappear wae a bottle fulliled wae pish and big fiery stick. I dunno what the correlation is between the two, but the prospect of whatever was gonnae happen next gied me the fear….AWWWWW its petrol! That makes more sense. Jester takes a big gub full of it, before spitting it in Drew’s direction. This isnae the first time Jack Jester’s threatened tae set somecunt on fire in The Garage, and I’ve nae doubt it wont be the last. Drew implored him to fucking do it anaw. Its a different sort of dude that can stare intae the eyes of a man about to set him on fire and invite him tae COME AHEAD. Never mind my words about it though, theres a video up. Watch the shit out of that.

So its done! 6 shows in 6 weeks. It’s been a beautiful grind. I’ve enjoyed writing about them all, and hopefully you’ve enjoyed these stupidly long dissertations. If ye fancy reading about the fringe shows, Shugs Hoose Perty, or any other ICW show this year, find those reviews here. If yer thinking “fuck that, I just read an 8000 word pile of nonsense fae ye, ye want me tae read mare?” dont blame ye mate. Its wrestling though innit. I’m tired, you’re tired, but we persevere for the love of wrestling. 

 

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One thought on “ICW – 1.21 Gigawatts Great Scott Review

  1. Pingback: From Our Affiliates: Snapmare Necks – Insane Championship Wrestling ‘1.21 Gigawatts, Great Scott!’ Review | Wrestle Ropes

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