Spacebaws man. That was for us. Ye know that eh? That sheer burst of joy masquerading as a pro wrestling show was not only a cracking showcase of some of the best young talent in the country, but it doubled up as a wee present for the diehards. It’s sometimes no easy being a dedicated wrestling fan. As captivating as it can be tae those who love it, and those who maybe just like it enough tae winch it now and again when they’ve had a few too many, it can be a fuckin grind on the brain. ICW gets it right more often than not, but pretty much all wrestling show’s have some things that are hard tae watch. Not in a “that cunt fucked up” kind of way either. Things like the NAK daein killer boots tae cunts when they’re heads are wedged in steel chairs makes hunners of sense. All the sense in the world, but it looks like murder. The rational side of the brain tells ye it isnae, but still. When that initial blow is struck, it looks and smells like murder. Murder that makes sense in a wrestling storyline context, but murder nonetheless. I’m gaun for the world record for the amount of times anyone’s put the word ‘murder’ in a wrestling review btw. Shootin for at least 50. Murder isnae easy to watch, due to all the death.
Not implying this show as ONLY for the diehards like. It had a broad appeal, but wee touches like Andy Wild returning and Lou King Sharp making his debut and smashing it. I felt like that was for me know whit I mean? For all the travel, and the sare knees, and the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder fae Sha Samuels shouting in ma face, and calling me a “fackin mug” in 14 different languages. Bi-lingual bracey big bastard. I feel like Red Lightning being announced as the GM of the Spacebaws ‘brand’ is like somecunt reached intae my brain, went tae the bit with all my hopes and dreams, turned they hopes and dreams intae a Paul Heyman-esque headset, and stuck it on Red Lightnings heid. Get yersell out there big yin and do that thing you do so magnificently on the mic. As Spacebaws was a….I’m no sure how to put this really, a ‘different’ sort of show I guess. Meaning that in the most complimentary way possible. The turnout for it and the quality of the product just shows the depth of talent in this fuckin country man. Its obscene. So as this show as a bit different, the review’s gonnae be a bit different. Cause ye don’t need tae know how many dropkicks Lewis Girvan hit on Solar. I’m gonnae tell ye anyway btw, but still…its not something you NEED tae know. You do need tae know that Girvan got on the mic to kick us off, and delivered a tidy wee promo. A wee bit nervy, but Solar’s interaction wae him during it seemed tae focus Girvan a bit. With Solar tapping an imaginary watch and muttering “I’ve no got aw fuckin night mate…oan wae it” Girvan fired into some patter about how after he was done leathering Solar…Drew…HE COMIN FUH YOO!
Solar’s not greatly receptive to such patter though. Probably cause he hurincanrana’d Wolfgang once, and that kind of “Popeye efter he’s tanned a gallon of Spinach” type strength has been displayed be glossed over neither it shouldnae. What he lacks in chest girth, and glute definition, he makes up for it BEING REALLY GOOD AT PRO WRESTLING. Daein things like dropkicks and crossbodies. Making Girvan see quadruple. Girvan gently ushers Solar out the ring by baseball sliding his Larynx clean oot, then all of a sudden it was Air Girvan, as he nailed the fuckin EXACT same dive Drew done at the last Garage show. I fuckin believe. I believe this is real. He wants a slice of Drew. Nae longer will they call him mini Drew, or “Lew Girvanoway” …..problem is Solar kinda dodged the big dive, and the only cunts he nailed properly were some poor security guys who sold the absolute FUCK out of it afterwards. Hilariously so. Amidst the security based laughter, yer man Solar went up top and dived on Girvan. More divers than a fuckin….a fuckin….no sure wether tae go wae a Dickie Divers joke here, or something fitba based, so I’ll go with neither and present this tae ye instead. DIVERS CAN FUCKIN FLY
No even sorry. That photo must be immortalised. Just like Lewis Girvan was in the process of immortalising himself with some of the finest, crispest pro wrasslin nectar yer ever likely tae behold. Dropkick in the corner fae Girvan before Solar sent Girvan tae the middle rope with some uppercuts, and hit a dropkick much like that sexy piece of visual wonder featuring Dickie Divers above ye. Looks like he’s gently easing a fart out at the same time eh? A wee silent but violent wan. Fuckin in the middle of talking about a brilliant match between Lewis Girvan and Solar, and once again we’re back at “Is Divers squeezing a fart oot?” patter. Never fails. A mad top rope neckbreaker, is followed by Solar hitting a fuckin Angle Slam which promped a “solar” chant tae Angles theme. The next sequence was dizzying stuff man. Like somedy drapped two eccies in a can of Red Bull, cracked yer skull in the middle and poured it directly on tae yer brain. Or eh…wrestling moves n that. Superkicks, flying til-o-whirl kicks to the dome. Some stiff as fuck forearms. An ace cutter/rko/diamond cutter type situation, before Girvan said ENOUGH is fuckin enough. Caught Solar midway through some flippy shit, and nailed a piledriver, but the gallus wee fucker kicked out, so he needed dropped on his resilient dome one more time for good measure. Lewis Girvan is your victor. Taking a wee bit of extra time to call Drew out again, before he bizzarely battered fuck out himself, shouting “I’m a Drew-doo doll…any pain I feel….he feels!” cept he didnae really dae that, he just called him a dick, and urged him to come ahead.
Dallas and Toal were out next to tell us the good news and the bad news. The good news is that ICW will be running another Spacebaws show in December, information that Mr Dallas wisnae very forthcoming with incidentally. Toal’s got the magic words though. Every fuckin time. I was gonnae ask Toal about an interview anaw, but I imagine he’d end up getting my life story outta me, and while I’m greetin in the corner about my abandonment issues, he declares Snapmare Necks as his. Anyway, that was the good news, and the bad news is…..PSYCHE, theres nae bad news
Oh aye, and it was Chris Renfrew‘s birthday, so what better way to mark his 29th year in this cold, uncaring world of ours, than wae Renfrew, BT Gunn, and Darkside eating Dickie Divers face. Are the NAK gaun aw gothic and weird and sacrificing one of their bretheren? Nah, they just has his poor face on a cake, claiming that they brought the cake cause Divers couldnae be there in person, only for the dastardly cunt tae wave at them from the balcony. Genuinely don’t think that was expected, cause Renfrew let out a genuine “see you, ya cunt” type smirk, and then they get tae talking. No yer usual Renfrew shouting at us type of promo, cause its his birthday, and he was about to have a bite of Divers sweet, moist, permanently anguished coupon. Renfrew fancies a scrap, and lucky for him so did one of my favourite up and coming gallus wee cunts. The boldest of the bold. Lou King Sharp. Lets fuckin do it troops, promo battle, wrasslin battle. Let’s be having ye.
I was heavily intae this for many reasons. Nae secret I’m a fan of both cunts, but the main reason is Renfrew made Lou King Sharp look dynamite. Lou King Sharp IS dynamite like. He didnae deceive us or anything, but an established guy like Renfrew going out of his way to highlight everyone good at Lou King Sharp took a lot of fuckin class. He didnae rip the cunt out his promo, which was passionate but a wee bit apprehensive. A veteran like Renfrew coulda smelled blood and buried him there and then, but he listened, responded, warned LKS tae fuckin bolt before his good mood turned intae a bad yin, and when the gallus one stood his ground, we got in amongst a proper square go. David vs Godzilla. The people of Japan vs Goliath. Big cunt vs wee cunt. Wee cunt on top early, with a droptoehold intae the 0141 (that’s the 619, but Leo Mushet stauns on yer back like its a surfboard while ye dae it) Went for the Frog Splash tae wrap this one up early, but to no avail. Some cake got thrown about, and elbow drops aplenty were slung as Renfrew had a bit of fun wae it. It’s his birthday for fuck sake! Its his party, and he’ll throw bits of Divers face at ye if he so pleases. Sharp rallies again wae some flying lariat action, before Renfrew catches him mid air in tae the back suplex, and then the whole affair descended intae carnage. A top rope stoner attempt was blocked, then the NAK seemed tae decide they’d had enough of fuckin about. Decapitating Stan Hansen lariat, and a Superkick fae BT later and out 5 foot hero was oot cold. Heid placed in chair, for some killer boots man! Fix up, look deid.
Not on Red Lightnings watch though. Nae fuckin chance. You bully boy bastards want to kill a wee guy on HIS SHOW? Nut. He stands right In the face of a team of men who had a right good go at killing him not long ago in Edinburgh and tells them tae come ahead. Ach that’s right, nae way they’d touch him eh. He’s got a headset on and trousers probably bigger than a 32 waist, so he’s clearly an adult, and they “just batter wee guys” so he issued a challenge. One of they non negotiable one that were never challenges in the firsr place. One of the NAK, against one of his boys, winner goes in tae the Square Go. The man he picked from the NAK ranks was Darkside (mind you, he had his gear on and BT didnae, so that gave a pretty strong indicator as to who it was going to be) and the challenger was my main man, the barrel chested former Zero-G champion, ANDY WILD
Seems weird that we got a stellar, suplex ridden staunerfest between two of the best cunts gaun, on a card geared towards showcasing new talent, but at the same time, it made all the sense in the world, cause this was he ICW rebirth of the new Andy Wild. The Andy Wild that’s more like the auld Andy Wild, welded tae another Andy Wild, welded tae a tree trunk, welded tae a big slab of ENGLAND. Point being, Andy Wild got BIG mate. He’s been mainlining stea I dunno if Wild’s going with a William Regal type gimmick in his ICW re-mergence, but he came out to a tune that sounded like Triple H’s auld number, before in a belly to belly suplex frenzy with the bold Darkside. Uppercuts, flying uppercuts. Darkside catching Wild up top with a stoater of a kick. The match was predictably ridden with gidness. Darkside’s got a thing about German Suplexing cunts wae big hairy chests btw. He likes flinging bears over his heid for some reason. He likes a gid full nelson suplex tae. We had the whole suplex reptoire, but Andy Wild would have his day, and took the win with the Double Underhook Powerbomb. Yer former Zero-G Champ is now very much affected by gravity, but for me, the bulkier Andy Wild has a lot more staying power than the auld version. No cause he’s literally harder to move like, cause he makes an impression in ways other than his undoubted wrestling skill and that can only lead to good things. Fuckin great to see him back. One of the early things that grabbed me about ICW was the good wrestling shit constantly going on in the midcard and Andy Wild was a major part of that, plus anything that might facilitate more Noam Dar vs Andy Wild matches is more than awrite wae me. SPACEBAWS mate. Spacebaws was already good gear, but sprinkle in some Andy Wild, you’ve got yersell a stone cold stoater.
In addition to that good shit, Layla Rose burst some barbies tae. Layla hen. I like it. All of it. Keep doing it exactly in the fashion you’re currently doing it. She haunts my dreams, and brightens up my nightmares so she does. Courtney, Emily Hayden and Lucy Cole were supposedly out for a triple threat match, but I smelled a rat. Nae offence to that trio. Lassies who are working hard and making an impression, but it didnae feel like it had enough diversity. It didnae feel like it had enough……wrestling. Or any at all. Lucy Cole done some twerking. There was some proper catty nonsense on the go, and I don’t mean someone got thersells a stinky finger on the dance floor tae the backdrop of some Fall Out Boy or suhin, I mean they were heavy slappin each other and being wee bishes, so Red stoats out, unfolds a lawn chair, stands on it and stars chanting “What the fuckin hell was that! Whaaaaat the fuckin hell was that!” cept he didnae really, he just told them to wrap the fuckin pish. Nae twerking on Red Lightnings show ya fuckin dafties. Then Layla proceeded to burst the barbies. Double suplex for Hayden and Cole. That fold over backbreaker thing she does which I’m calling the Barbie Buster, and that’s all there is tae it. What a beautiful move that is though. When I first seen it I wondered why it wisnae her finisher, but I get it noo. That Barbie Buster snaps them intae a million tiny pieces, then the fallaway slam is like a metaphor for his throwing her victims remains into an incinerator and watching them slowly turn to ashes. Aye….Layla.
The Kennedy Administration had some things to say after that, namely Joe Hendry, with yer man Joe produly displaying his silver medalm signifying that he’s the second best amatuer wrestler in the country. Admittedly I’m relying on my sources for this tidbit, but I’m told he only started daein it 4 fuckin weeks ago, so tae already be that good is some extraordinary shite. There’s something a bit special about Joe Hendry, cause the cunt’s good at everything. Every match I see him in wrestling wise, he’s got better. Even that make ye want tae punch his fuckin lights out, the desire to punch him comes from him being a right good smarmy heel. Like he’s almost mocking us for singing along tae his tune, but us daft sheep dae it anyway. Despite Joe’s talents, this wisnae really about him. Well..it was, but wrestling wise it was more of a Timm Wylie showcase, as Joe decided tae run a gauntlet, in which 3 competitors would get the chance tae go at Joe Hendry….except, no really.
First competitor was the bold Tommy Marx who’s a talented guy, but wrestling needs cunts wae brightly coloured tights on tae get squashed sometimes. Thats how it happens sometimes. Tam got squashed. A t-bone suplex and a spear fae Wylie done the damage, before Joe swooped in and got the pin. NEXT.
Next was Joe Hendry and James R.Kennedy huvin a wee sing song, that’s what was next. “We fell in love with Joe Hendry’s face” from Shugs has been immortalised as a proper real tune, and why it isnae currently sitting number one in the downloads, or however the fuck ye buy singles these days, I dont know. Probably cause it kinda samples a wee tune Rhianna brought out, but fuck that technicality, red tape based BULLLLSHIT. We all had a right good sing song, while Joe wore that look on his face that said “I’ve got em right here…right in the palm of my favourite slapping hand” Oh and James R Kennedy’s biggest hit came on anaw. Well…his biggest solo hit anyway, ye cannae get away with playing Wham in the middle of Glesga. Everycunt over 40 in a within a 10 mile radius would be jovially jumping aboot tanning 2Ls, and impregnating inanimate objects or suhin, anyway aye. Sing song aside, David The Beloved had some GAD-DAMN HAMASEXUALS to talk smack about. Chris Saynt would have his day, but for now? Davey had a Joe Hendry to eliminate, and a spot in the Square Go to be winning.
Timm Wylie fucked him up anaw though. Of course. Big man can go btw. I know he’s been around a long time, but this was the first I’d seen him aside from spearing folk, and he’s deceptively agile. Hit a top rope rana, and all sorts of hard striking shit. A saaaare looking over the shoulder spine shattering thing anaw, then Joe jumped in again tae steal the glory, and the boss had enough. Red stoats out and correctly points out that this is Joe Hendrys challenge. Not the Timm Wylie burstin cunts exhibition, so big man. Step the fuck aside. This isnae your war. This is between Glesga and Edinbrugh (if Yum Yum’s fae Glesga like…aw fuck, I was supposed to be building suspense here eh? Who’s the third opponent? Keeping yees on a knife edge…ah well) This is between mmmmmnghg Joe Hendraaaaaay, and the man who conquered the Global Hero on his own patch last month MA MAIN MAN DAVID “YUM YUM” DEVILIN.
When we got down to the nitty gritty, we got down to YUM YUM BEATIN JOE HENDRY AGAIN! I’m Joe Hendry daft like. Appreciation for his talent is aff the scale, but Yum Yum pinning him, and that “I’ve got you dicks eating out the palm of my hand” look turning into that all too familiar “AH GOAT BEAT AFF YUM YUM!” look. It was all Hendry tae. Lariats, vertical suplexes and uppercuts galore, before he caught Devlin with a DDT, but after the Freak of Nature sent Devlin to the outside, much tae Joe’s frustration, he got pinned tae FUCK with the backslide. Challenge incomplete. Joe Hendry sent back up the M…whitever road goes back tae Embra, wae his lip trembling.
The ballad of one Joe Hendry. Good at everything he ever turned his hand to. But one task broke him. One task proved too much time and again, and that task was beating Yum Yum in ICW. He sat up night after night, going over strategies with James R.Kennedy, as Kennedy chucked bags of rice in the air for Joe to heider. YOU GOTTA BECOME A WRECKIN MACHINE JOE SAN! It’s the only way.
Jackie Polo had some recruiting to do don’t ye know, and he hand picked some of the finest young talents in the country, with the winner becoming the newest Polo Promotions recruit. The whole battle royal was a fuckin farcical situation if we’re being honest. Any battle royal that disnae have a proper giant, who the rest of the competitors team up tae eliminate disnae count. Seriously though, we had some Davey The Beloved, fresh aff the leathering Timm Wylie dished out to him. We had Switch, fresh aff…probably eating somecunts rotting corpse roon the back of an abandoned warehouse. We had Tommy Marx, also nursing sare lungs from the Timm Wylie leathering. Saqib Ali, as G as can be. Euan G Mackie, turn yer back and he’ll eh…..attack ye? The one and only Lewis Girvan, and the boays in the green neon y-fronts, The Gatecrashers! Also, the hilarious named Blue Lightning was in there anaw. Know how yon security guard that ye always hear folk whispering “is that Red Lightnings brother?” well there’s yer answer. Just like Edge and Christian, and The Undertaker and Kane. Red and Blue Lightning are BLOOD brerrs. Red’s the boss, Blue’s in the match, fuckin…NEPOTISM LIVES YA CUNTS! That’s yer talent pool, and I’m no missing any sort of International Sex Heroes, so fuckin stop askin me if he wis there awrite. His mustachioed magnificence had better things tae dae. Shaggin things most likely. Shaggin YER MAW things most likely. Battle Royals are fucking shite though eh, lets be honest. We got a fun wee spot where Saqib was tossed out early, but he landed on the ramp, so he had tae jump back fae island to island. Made it across though, before various guys were eliminated in various ways. Battle Royals are hazy affairs. A lot of stuff happens. People get tired and have a wee seat. Switch eliminated himself when somecunt tossed his teddy outside, and he went after it…over the top rope. David The Beloved and Chris Saynt had a rammy I believe, after The Beloved cawin him the H word earlier on (H for HAMASEGGZUAL) and a whole manner of other stuff happened, before we got down to the bit where everycunt generally wakes up during a battle royal. THE FINAL TWO.
Chris Saynt and Lewis Girvan locked in the throes of battle, smashing each other with a forearms, and various other body parts. Two guys who have been in and around the main roster for fuckin ages now, on the precipice of making the main roster their home. Setting this up like the conclusion of some kinda dramatic scene in a film eh. Jean Claude Van Damme’s gonnae come round the corner any minute and blow both their heids aff for a giggle. Well, not quite that, more than Jean Claude Van DAMNNNNN that’s a fine lookin tash. Ye didnae think a gathering of wrestlers could take place without your very own INTERNATIONAL SEX HERO did ye?
I’ll say it once, and I’ll say it a 1000 more times, and what’s the thing I’ll have said 1001 times? Justice…for…DCT. Would a triumph here and a spot on team Polo Promotions be justice enough? Nut. Until Jack Jester is tried in a court of law for his unlawful slinging of a leather belt in the direction of DCTs gloriously hairy tap lip, there will never be jutcie, but DCT did know Saynt and Girvan aff the apron as they were knocking fuck out each to become the new Polo Promotions recruit. THE DREAM LIVES. Nae idea what the dream is like, I reckon its been a dream of DCTs since he small boy, to grow a tash, and a representation of that tash immortalized on his trunks, but the second part of that dream is waving his baw and face tash in the faces of the ICW faithful as much as possible, so mission a-fuckin-complished eh. Well it seemed that way, until it eh…wisnae.
Polo was unhappy with his battle royal being shrouded in shenanigans and controversy, so he piled all the competitors fae the battle royal intae a wheelbarrow and rolled them back towards the ring, declaring that they were going tae “do this right…again and again until its bloody right!” gently unzipping his jaiskit to reveal a that union jack singlet aw the Londoners were so fond of (in case anyone thinks Polo got it made especially to wind folk up, he had it on at the second London show. I remember distinctly cause I took a really arty photo of him wearing it, rolled it intae a wee baw and slung it intae a burning skip…) so aye…RE-MATCH….GLASS SMASH…..COULD IT BE??
BAH GAWD KING! ITS STONE COLD….STONE COLD!…Stunner to Tommy Marx. Stunner to Dave Conrad. Stunner to Dave The Beloved. Stunner to yer maw. Stunner to yer da (aka Euan G Mackie) ERRRRRRRRYBODY’S GETTIN STUNNERED. BOBBY ROBERTS HAS LOST IT.
Lewis Girvan sold the stunner better than anyone I’ve ever seen btw. He sprung up about 2000-3000 feet in the air, high fived Saint Peter, and landed back tae earth, sittin in an armchair in Sir Tom Hunters lounge, discussing how much of a fuckin liberty this austerity business is. Aw the stunners. Polo of course had to stamp this out, with the help of his newest recruit DCT, and stomp it out they did. Having a rerr time of it so they were, then along came a Sweeney. You’d think Sweeney making the save was him making pals wae Stone Cold Bobby eh? Aye. ye thought wrong. Sweeney smashed him anaw, swaggering up the ramp lit that “ah never said ah wis ee’s pal” Fuckin right ye didnae big man. Don’t let the bastards haud ye doon! Keep smashing every cunt indiscriminately, till ICW shows become just you wandering about the crowd, raking folks eyes and demanding their pin numbers.
Up next we had a right good scrap between The Owens Twins and She Generation X (Bete Noire and Viper btw…they call themselves She-X, which I only found out about 2 days ago…how wis such vital and mildly hilarious information kept from me..need tae sack my researchers or suhin man, no good enough) The match was braw as fuck, but it was the ending that made it intriguing, after a Shining Wizard from Kasey early on (absolute truth btw, I seen the move, couldnae mind its name, and I heard Billy Kirkwood muttering it on commentary behind me, and totally stole it, so if its wrang…batter Billy…don’t actually dae that though, he’s dead sound) Bete knee’d Leah’s teeth clean oot, and fused them on tae her knuckles, so she could batter cunts batter. Developing quite a penchant for this amateur dentistry kerry oan int she? Viper and Leah get tae uppercutting fuck out each other, before Viper hit a huge lariat. Kasey and Viper had a beauty of an exchange anaw. Kasey’s been mean as fuck lately eh? Both Owensies have, but Kasey seems to have had a fire lit under her, and that fire apparently leads tae felonies, cause not only did she steal Bete Noire’s kendo stick (affectionately known as “twiggy”) but she knocked the utter shite out of Bete wae it, whilst Viper took a chair shot or two off Leah. Aye.Yer Owensies are heels, and that makes AW the sense. No tae sound too crass, but they’re sexy. Sexy disnae lend itself to niceness. Sexy lends itself to stealing peoples Kendo Sticks and leaving huge welps on their back. That’s how aw yer major dictionaries define that word. Attraction and kendo play. That’s all it is. Good tae see them develop a mean streak right now. Their gear is a lot less “here you…look at ma erse” these days tae. Serious fuckin business. Only way The Owensies are making yer jaw drop these days, is by pulling the lower half of it off, and knocking fuck out ye wae it.
Then the boys done the business.
Yer starting a new ‘brand’. Something that ye can run regularly, in front of a sizeable, vociferous Glesga crowd. The main event has to sell it. Simple as that. Rest of the show can be the fuckin…bollocks 😉 It can be brilliant fae top tae bottom, but if the main event’s a dud, or even fall short of what ye were expecting, game’s a bogey. Send cunts home dissatisfied with a new product, and they dont tell their pals to come to the next show. Send them home not happy with the finish….they tell folk they hated the finish. Its important to get that right. Hugely. At least get it right enough for naecunt to have uch of a gripe about it. So what did Mark Coffey and Kenny Williams do mate? What did they two tremendous bastions of pro wrasslin goodness dae for us?
They tore the muhfuckin house down, that’s what. As there was a shiny belt on the line, and this review’s no been as formulaic as others, its getting a grandiose intro. I might even put a wee picture in somewhere, cause people huv tae know. This shit was too fuckin good. Here’s a picture of Kenny doing what he does best for a wee teaser…..
HEEEEEERE WE GO…..
Mark Coffey (c) vs Kenny Williams (ICW Zero-G Title Match)
Secondary belts were designed to breed guys who could one day go on and become at the very least legit contenders for the main title. That USED to be their function in pro wrestling. Breed tomorrows stars, and give the guy’s at the top end of the card a wee fright when they glance oot the curtain to see the midcard young yins scorching it night after night. Make EVERYONE up their fuckin game. That used to be how it was. WWE had Bret Hart, Roddy Piper, Mr Perfect all making their secondary belt fucking amazing, and filling the seat of Hogans neon yella drawers with jobby in the process. Those reigns, and the reigns of similar stoaters gave that belt the prestige that everycunt pines for, but naebdy’s got the balls to book a proper strong IC Champion these days. Even when a guy like Dolph Ziggler has the strap, we still have him playing ‘pass the title’ wae a fuckin assault on the senses like The Miz.
A lot of the time though, as long as theres there’s a least a wee bit of trust in the guy who has the strap from those above, its the wrestler who makes the belt what it is…not vice versa, so when Mark Coffey took the Zero-G Title from Mikey Whiplash, whilst Whiplash held the ICW Heavyweight Title, and he won that match clean as a fuckin whistle, the opportunity was there for the younger Coffey to take that ball, boot it 10 mile in the air, and catch it on the volley on the road doon. It was there for him. All he had to do was make folk believe him beating Whippy clean was nae fluke. He beat him clean cause he’s gonnae be the guy one day. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in the next year at all, but one fuckin day.
He grasped that opportunity with both hands, predictably so. Even the Fergal Devitt sized blip in the middle done fuck all but strengthen his position, because when he recaptured that belt, it wwasn’tonly him taking the belt off Devitt, but Noam Dar was defeated in that match tae. His second reign has been done flawlessly if ye ask me, aside from a bit of a flat match with Solar at Shugs. after the crowd pop thersells intae a coma over CM Shrunk, but even then, technically the match wae fine. Ye just never believed for a second that belt was going anywhere.
For the belt to go anywhere, and for it to go decisively, it has to go to someone who not only embodies everything the Zero-G Division is about, but it had to go to someone who resonates wae the fanbase. No someone who just gets the diehards on side either, someone wae that rare combination of natural in-ring ability, a smashin wee quiff, and a strangely likely bouncyness. The outer shell of Kenny Williams is a wee fanny. Lets be honest. A wee Flo Rida listening tae, skinny jean wearing, inspirational quote tattoo on his lower back having fandan, but Kenny has that unwavering likeability about him. I hate they terms cunts use when they’re no articulate enough tae actually describe things properly, but he has that “It Factor” …..something ye cannae put yer finger on, but something that makes ye stand on yer Da’s favourite chair, stick yer middle finger in his stupid auld face while screamin KENNY IS THE BOLLOCKS….KENNY IS THE BOLLOCKS…NAH NAH NAH…NAH NAH NAH.
A wrestling match happened also. One of the best one’s I’ve seen all year. As a wrestling match, wae storytelling, moves and significant events, it ticked all the boxes. Superb, but to have each and every person in the audience holding their breath, and chanting at the top of their lungs impossibly at the same time is something quite rare. These two guys done just that. Had us all wide eyed and mesmerized like weans getting sat doon in front of the tele to watch the Jungle Book for the first time, or adults getting sat doon in front of the tele fulla acid watching Fantasia for the first time. Disney matter if liked these cunts before, or didnae. Disney matter if you showed up at The Garage not having a fucking clue what was going on either. Even if professional wrestling didnae exist to you before this match happened, this is your new favourite thing. Deal wae it.
After some cagey opening exchanges, referee Tam “Vigilante” McLovin smelled a rat, and sent both James R.Kennedy and Jackie Polo packing. Nah boys. Not tonight. Jamesies Guilty feet better get some rhythm, and they better take his erse tae the locker room. Polo better get struttin up that road in a manner which is both cute, cute, and stupid-ass in nature. Catch yees efter guys. This was about Mark and Kenny. A fine touch it was to leave it down to the guys who made the show. They made it through WRESTLING tae.
A rollup exchange fofollowed scoop slam and shoulderblocks fae Coffey, as he asserted his larger frame, and champions dominance early on. Only way to combat that as a smaller, more agile man is tae jump on the cunt. Fae all angles. Suicide dive from Kenny was followed by a crossbody off the stairs up the side of The Garage as Mark Coffey done a thing he rarely does. He ventured intae the crowd, because in this context, when high drama and anticipation need created, that wee venture from the norm was more than worth it. Kenny went for the springboard elbow back in the ring, but Coffey reversed it midair with a picture perfect dropkick. I can see that wee exchange so clearly in my heid, and the girlish squeal of “that was amazin” i gently let oot intae my pals ear to accompany it. Chops and a hard whip to the corner kept Coffey in the ascendency, before Kenny retaliated with a glorious standing moonsault after another in a long line of brilliant exchanges. Coffey proceeded tae slingshot Williams into the corner, before locking him intae that Bow and Arrow submission he does, followed by more sickening whips to the corner. Chemistry off the fuckin scale between these two, despite having completely contrasting styles. Various stiff kicks, and dropkick action fae Kenny, before some more high flying antics were plucked out the air and powerslammed by Coffey. A flurry of forearms was followed by another springboard elbow attempt, but Coffey caught it beautifully intae the bridging back suplex. Fuck me man. This shit was…….aw man. Nae words.
Well…except these ones. The Pumphandle Slam was blocked, before we got intae a loop of the Tornado DDT being reversed, probably intae the Pumphandle Slam for another emphatic win for Mark Coffey, I mean…is anyone ever going to take this strap from him? Does anyone have the cojones to stand face to face with the REEEEEAL IC….wait….ye whit?
He hit it?
He hit the Tornado DDT?
Aye but…Mark kicked out eh? Of course he did, that’s what he does…..
Or Kenny Williams hits the Tornado DDT, and Kenny fuckin Williams covers Mark Coffey, and Kenny fuckin Williams becomes your NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW ICW ZERO-G CHAMPION. As I live and fuckin breathe, I’ve scarcely seen a main event that captured exactly what a show needed to finish it better than that shit. A truly fantastic encounter. SEE IT WAE YER AIN TWO EYES IF YE HUVNAE YET. Please. If it becomes available somewhere, make it your life’s mission to see that shit, cause it…..aw. I had very vyer high expectations, and it met those expectations, bent them over the kitchen sink, a rode them to a knee shuddering climax….fuckin…AW.
As the crowd evaporated in Power Of Love fuelled joy, there was a loose end tae tie up. James R.Kennedy comes strolling out, with a sense of entitlement he didnae fuckin earn. Did you just pin Mark Coffey mate? Nah. Did you just make a room full of people simultaneously shoot their load wae the wrestling exhibition ye put on? Nah. Why ye asking Kenny for his belt then? Silliness. Kenny Williams did not bring the title “home” to the Kennedy Administration be brought it home tae the Williams household IN SPITE of the Kennedy Administration, and when James R.Kennedy persisted in demanding that belt be delivered to him post haste, he got his wish, Kenny shattering his skull with a sickening belt shot, revealing that him holding the belt meant that he was longer James R’Kennedy’s property, he was a member of the FUCKIN ICW ROSTERRRR…..
Mark Coffey finally awoke from his DDT induced stupor and shared what looked like a genuine heartfelt hug with Kenny. Two cunts who just knew they killed it. No purer sight in wrestling than that.
Kenny had a party. Jester, Dallas, and a fair whack of the main roster, along with most of the folk on the Spacebaws show came out to celebrate with the young yin. We all had a fuckin party. Rejoice ya fuckin cunts! cause KENNY IS THE BOLLOCKS WAE THE SEXY SHINY BELT.
In terms of pacing, and storytelling throughout, for me Spacebaws – A New Hope got it as right as any ICW show has all year. The best Garage show Terminator 2 last year, and without that main event, that disnae happen. That main event made all the other good shit that happened earlier relevant. That main event made Spacebaws a fuckin brand, and its importance cannae be understated if ye ask me. Cracking show. Kenny. Is. The. Fuckin. Bollocks.