For some ridiculous reason I’ve been at every ICW show this year and reviewed them all. Dunno if I’m just addicted to standing up for 3-4 hours at a time, or it’s because these shows are like Smack for the soul. Either way, following ICW about like some mad bearded groupie has been a fucking blast. If you’ve enjoyed some of my words along the way, cheers. If you’ve no, cheers anyway…but also….fuck ye.
Speaking of things that need fucked. Or thank fucked to be precise. Thank fuck for ICW On Demand. As unprofessional as this may be, I wound up steamin at this show and my recollections of it are hazy at best. First time I’ve been proper wasted as a show since I became a super professional wrestling journalist of great distinction. ICW On Demand to the rescue eh. They should advertise that way though. “ICW On Demand, for those special times in your life where you mix a lot of awful, probably petrol laced drinks with heavy-duty medication and wind up sitting on the ground outside the bus station with no recollection of the previous 5 hours” Not very catchy, but it is true. Anyway. Last main roster show of the year eh. I feel like I should be kinda tying the events of the year up in one go with this review. That’s what a good writer would do eh? Fuck aw that though. You’ll get the usual, and you’ll like it (I hope)
Polo Promotions vs The Gatecrashers
Polo Promotions have matching shellsuit jaiskits now guys. I really dunno how folk can hate them man. People vehemently hate Jackie Polo and it keeps me up at night. A guy who managed to cut a promo whilst making sure Mark Coffeys modesty was covered while he was showering in the background. A scoop slam innovator, and the first Scottish wrestler to ever appear on the front cover of monthly lifestyle magazine “Dapper Gents In Singlets” Theres no purer joy in the wrestling world than seeing Polo and Coffey exchange gentle wee tags between boaysies, whilst they each deliver some of the most venomous scoop slams in wrestling today. Before the scoop slamming, WHO BAD hi-jinks got going, Polo got on the mic and turned into the title shot Nazi. Title shot Nazi say “NO TITLE SHOT FOR YOU GATECRASHERS” (wee Seinfeld reference fur the boays err)
Fair play to Chris Saynt and Dave Conrad though. They were game as fuck. Saynt in particular was slinging all the double knees ye could possibly handle, with some head scissoring in there for a wee extra. Heidscissors daft. Coffey and Saynt had an excellent wee exchange, before Saynt took the scoop slam procession, only for Polo Promotions to become the first tag team ever to actually initiate a hoat tag AGAINST their own team. Polo throwing Saynt haufway tae Jupiter with an atomic scoop slam, and when he finally landed he found haufway to Jupiter to be the EXACT place Dave Conrad was at. In comes the big man. Lariats and that. Big guy mode. He brought energy to the table, and was so impressive, some folk around me noticed that we looked quite similar and started rudely chanting “yer just a shite Dave Conrad!” at me. Fucking pricks. The Conrad express was slowed right down by that double team shoulder to the gut Coffey and Polo dae. For DAYYYYYS mate. Fair play to big Dave for continuing to sell the shoulder barges like every single one was as sare as the last. I’m sure it was worth the total destruction of yer spleen.
The Gatecrashers challenge was ended by Coffey launching Saynt towards Jackie Polo, for the king of chat tae catch him intae a bridging German Suplex for the win. For folk who complain about Jackie Polo not doing a huge amount of moves in that ring, how many times ye seen a man thrown into the arms of another for a German Suplex? Nae times? Thats what I thought. POLO PROMOTIONS FOR LYF.
Chris Renfrew vs Hardcore Holly
I don’t think there’s anyone reading this who hasn’t said the words “BT Gunn has the best chops in wrestling” Its pretty much a fact at this point. Ryoji Sai actually does speaking tours in Japan, telling the natives about the mental Scottish guy who chopped the tits clean off him. If a best of BT Gunn compilation ever comes out, the quotes on the front will all be from scarred wrestlers.
BT Gunn gies me the fear – Kenta Kobashi
However. Hardcore Holly put all that patter into perspective at Brush Your Goose. It was a huge thing that he was there at all (I spent the whole day telling people I didn’t give a fuck, then marked out…and probably passed out when he actually emerged…THATS HARDCORE FUCKIN HOLLY…OH MY FUCK!)but he seemingly made it his mission to show ICW he’s the bearer of the greatest chops of them all. One of the chops he hit Renfrew with as he was dragging him round the side of the ring actually made his heart stop. Ye could hear the moment it happened, and when it did, Hardcore Holly had a bright idea on how to revive our Renfrew. A wee beer shower perhaps? The problem with that yin is, this is Glesga. Even if a man’s life is on the line, if you ask a Glaswegian for their beer seconds after they’ve just spent upwards of 3 quid on it, it’s very likely they’re gonnae say “naw mate”. Disnae matter how many Intercontinental or Hardcore titles you’ve won, or how dynamite yer chops are. Thats never gonnae go down well. He did get a beer off someone eventually, but first he had tae douse Renfrew in petrol, set him on fire, and put said fire out with that beer. If Jack Jester is a kinky torturer, Hardcore Holly is a courteous one. I’m sure he rubbed antiseptic cream on Renfrews sare chest after it and told him he did good out there. He really did though. You’ll scarcely see a man take such a legit leathering like Renfrew did without retreating. He slung a low blow in retaliation, but there was nae stopping Holly. Tied Renfrew up in the ropes when he got him back into the ring, before producing a pair of gold plated brass knuckles and dismantling Renfrews ribcage with stiff jabs. Martin Stone style hayemakers. Renfrew deid surely. The mark of a dying man is desperation. Living off instinct. What have I got in the arsenal that might stop this prick hitting me? Oh aye…STONER.
The stoner done fuck all but briefly derail the Hardcore Holly steam train of sareness. He kicked out at two, so Renfrew done something we rarely see from him and took tae the skies. Up top he went, but Holly caught him and sent him hurtling towards the mat. It was almost like time stopped as Renfrew came crashing down tae earth. Waiting on a Renfrew tae fall. He’s about tae get Alabama Slammed. Through the fuckin ring. Through the ring baby yeah. Holly signalled for the Alabama Slamma, and he did get it eventually. Hitting both Divers and Renfrew with a couple of absolutely brilliant Alabama Slams, but the thing that happened before that shook the earth to its core. Stock markets crashed. A surgeon in the middle of open heart surgery pulled the heart out and ate it. Gary Glitter stopped fingering…nah wait, I’ll refrain from finishing that one-off (that’s what he said). Because just as Holly was about to put Renfrew away with the Alabama Slam, Dickie Divers stoated to to the ring and KNOCKED HOLLY THE FUCK OUT. Superkick to the jaw. Renfrew placed on top of a Hardcore legend for the 1…2…3.
I honestly don’t know why I wasn’t arsed about Holly coming to ICW. Think I paid too much attention to patter about him being an arsehole after he knocked the shite out of a trainee on tough enough, but that’s what Hardcore Holly does. Knocks the shite out of folk with a smile on his face. After delivering a pair of brutal Alabama Slams to Divers and Renfrew, he got on the mic and told the ICW crowd he was honoured to be in their house, and that the noise they made easily topped the noise he’d have heard from a 20,000 seater arena. Says a lot about ICW that a 51 year old Hardcore Holly seemed to fit in fucking perfectly. Add him to the Paul London and Brian Kendrick list of “cunts who really need to live in Scotland permanently” Although they’re all in pretty brilliant shape and that would likely no longer be the case if they had prolonged exposure to Scottish cuisine. Another thing about prolonged exposure to Scottish cuisine is that its been known to have a “weathering” effect on people’s faces. Just stating that fact like, absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Dickie Divers match was up next….
Dickie Divers vs Mikey Whiplash
Oh dear. I don’t imagine a list of “things you need to be doing immediately after taking an Alabama Slam off Hardcore Holly” exists, but if it did, I’m pretty sure “wrestling Mikey Whiplash in the best shape of his life” would be somewhere near the bottom. Divers dragged his weary body into the ring…fuckin…somehow. Must’ve been someone who knew how to fuse spines in the front row, because somehow Divers appeared to be upright. Not for long right enough. Taking an atomic drop, immediately followed by one of they flying European uppercuts. A snapmare took Divers to the ground for some much-needed respite, but he only got 5 seconds worth of naptime, before Whiplash woke him up with the flying uppercut from the middle rope. Divers had some snapmare action of his own on the go right enough, as he blocked Whiplash’s attempt at the Full Nelson suplex by driving him into the corner, before breaking out the snapmare/dropkick combo. A staple of the Dickie Divers diet of destruction. They exchange armbars, before Whiplash flipped into a figure 3 leglock type thing, or maybe its figure 6…I dunno what counts a figure, I’m no a mathematician. He transitioned from one sare looking thing, to an even sarer, and slightly humiliating thing, as he got Divers up for the surfboard, only to ease him back on to his knees (steady…) and stick two fingers up his nose, almost pulling it off in the process. I’d love to say that type of thing has been adopted from his Sumerian Death Squad pals, but Whiplash is well known in ICW for such devilishness (aye…thats a word..) The only thing he’s better known for is his wrestling (sooking up his arse something fierce man, heavy courting him to do an interview, dont tell him that though) he followed that up karate chopping Divers out of the ring, before landing a suicide dive right on his windpipe. It was just the one though. Divers has been hit with single suicide dives at least a million times. Takes at least 2 tae even startle him. He hit back with an enziguri on the apron, before boldly going where no man has gone before. Staunin on that ledge. With Whiplash’s heid taken tenderly under his right arm, he brought both their worlds crashing down with the DDT on the apron. Everyone is deid.
It’s not the first time Mikey Whiplash has been deid, and he once again managed to revive himself, just in time to catch a snapmare, and a wee kneedrop that looked reminiscent to the dance Carlton does in the Fresh Prince. They exchanged stinging open hand slaps tae the coupon, before Divers had his attempt at a kick caught and legswept tae fuck. Shinbreaker into the Figure 4 to follow, this shit was like ballet or something. Or at least a hauf decent panto. The Singing Kettle’s production of Snow White and the Seven Divers’. Got right aff track here. Aye. Divers started chucking knees about wae reckless abandon. One in the middle of the ring, one in the corner, followed up by something I’ve never really seen before. A bulldog where Divers launched himself by pushing against the small of Whiplash’s back (fuckin hell, a lot of this has sounded borderline sexual eh? It was a heavy sexy match though) followed up by Divers hanging Whiplash upside down in the corner and doing some sort of innovative one man Killer Boots. Takes a set of stones tae try a double team move on yer own. Bubba Ray tried that with the 3D once, and ended up chucking Renee Dupree intae the crowd. As impactful as that was, he took ages to cover him properly, and after a wee back and forth of suplex attempts, Whiplash got Divers up for the brainbuster and that was enough for the win.
Fair play to Divers for stepping in for a talent like Noam Dar and having one of the best matches of the night. Whiplash hasn’t missed a beat though has he? NAK and three man SDS in the Square Go? Gonnae be a fuckin riot if that happens. Also, I paused this match at one point and Divers face was like this. I just thought I should share that with yees. Divers might be a wrestler first, but being the man wae a 1000 faces comes a close second.
An Audience With Noam Dar
Fuckin Simon Cassidy. How dare you. Noam Dar’s been the star of Noam Darish Bootcamp for 6 years now. Wrestling up and doon this fair land in his wee Oasis sloganed pants, and dropkicking the living fuck out of everyone from Andy Wild to AJ “Snapmare Necks” Styles. How fuckin dare you introduce him as one of the “stars of TNA British Bootcamp 2” Noam Dar is so much more. Noam Dar is the Noam Da. Noam Dar warned Simon no tae be making that mistake again, before saying nice things about him and his besto Grado cutting about Times Square, throwing up gang sings and putting a box of Portobello Mushrooms intae a buskers guitar case. Ayrshire shenanigans. Unfortunately Noam was only on that mic cause he wisnae fit enough to partake in his scheduled match with Mikey Whiplash, but thats fine. Him and Grado will be at the Hyrdo soon enough, and they want each and every one of us tae go with them. Nah no you…or him wae the unibrow, you can come…only if ye bring yer burd though, I’ve heard she’s tidy. Noam was about ready to depart and then the boys get on wae some wrestling before a pair of utter bastards spoiled his moment/life in general. Martin Stone and Sha Samuels aka YA COUPLA FANNNNNIIIEEEEES. Bullying an injured Jewish man. Thats a hate crime if I’ve ever seen one. These cunts should be locked up. Although I’d probably rather get locked up than have to face the team of Grado and the biggest, maist beardiest, angriest Irishman on the planet. Aw fuck. Here he comes…
Grado and Big Damo vs Sha Samuels and Martin Stone
Grado seemed oddly as ease as he took to the ring to save his best pal Noam from the two-man cockney cheating bastard wrecking crew (not a very catch name is it? we’ll work on it) Despite the fact that he didnae have a tag partner yet. Even took a wee bit of time to rip the pish out of the two guys who have been taking their collective frustrations out on his jaw for the past few months and that would suggest the tag partner he had was a bit of a handy big bastard. That would be putting it mildly, as it was none other than yer man BIG DAMO!!!!!!
(fuckin aw the exclamation marks, ye seen the size ae the cunt?)
When Grado went looking for Damo to ask him if he’d fancy tagging with him, he found him cuttin aboot the Campsie Hills in a golf buggy wae an air rifle, snatching up stray sheep for his dinner. Grado has one of they hats on that cover yer ears, and for a brief moment, Damo almost mistook him for a sheep and took his eye oot, but Grado managed tae shout “Its Ayrshires favourite son!” in time. Damo was happy tae oblige, because if there’s anything in this life Damo prefers tae roaming about the hills looking for his dinner, its knocking fuck out of English cunts. Here we fuckin go.
Everyone took a wee shot of doing very silly things early on. Firstly Sha Samuels and Martin Stone ridiculously decided trying to double clothesline Damo would be a good idea, and the big man flung a double clothesline of his own at them, before chucking Samuels heid first into Stone, and scoop slamming them all over Glesga. So Damo’s got a head of steam. Feelin supreme. The fuckin last thing Grado should be daein is tagging himself in. I love Grado, but if he can get away with being in a team wae Damo and never tagging in, he should absolutely do that. He should really only be acting as hauners just incase Damo needs a wee timeout tae pick a skelf out of his paw. Grado quickly realised he’d made a grave error, after hitting Sha and Stone with some shake rattle and roll jabs, only for him to take about 10 year tae deliver the bionic elbow, and by that time they’d come to their senses. And they were not fuckin happy. Grado hastily asked for a wee minute tae gather his thoughts, and he decided he thought it would be best tae get Damo back in. Solid plan. Damo floored The Two Heided Cockney Wrecking Ball with a pair of forearms before becoming the fourth and final man in the match tae make a bad decision. Tagging Grado in. Again, nae slight on Grado, but if I wis big Damo, and I was bossing a pair of heavyweights like Sha and Stone, I widnae be quick to tag ANYONE in. Even if my partner was Animal oot the Legion of Doom, or Smash fae Demolition. Naecunt is more of an animal, or better at smashing cunts than Damo. After Grado went up top, and with the aid of referee Sean McLaughlin delivered the single most impactful double axe handle fae the top rope in wrestling history, it went a wee bit tits up.
With Grado isolated in the corner, a wee Eastenders theme tune chant started up. Cunts dae this to annoy Samuels, but they don’t realise it does fuck all but stick petrol in his tank. He chopped the living shite out of Grado after that, and Stone done the same, but if the Eastenders tune is what gets Sha Samuels going, being repeatedly chopped by a coupla dafties is Grado’s trigger. He had seen, and felt just about enough chops for one match, and started dishing oot chops of his own. His rally was short-lived, as Stone jabbed him repeatedly in the belly before Sha dished out a sitout scoop slam. It was a case of great tag team strategy, as they isolated Grado in their half of the ring, whilst continually calling Scottish people “knuckle dragging, heroin addicted, Jock cunts” A flawless plan, deeply rooted in the fundamentals of tag wrestling, but Grado disnae subscribe to these things. Grado’s a free spirit. Grado will scoop ye up and F5 ye out of fuckin nowhere, and he did just that. In comes Damo. CLOBBERIN TIME. Once again he floored both Stone and Samuels, gently easing himself into a Senton on Stone by taking a wee timeout to stand on his chest for about 30 seconds. An offer of a truce from Sha was met with a “fuck you” and a double fallaway slam for Stone and Samuels. Well its a fallaway slam/samoan drop combo type thing, ye know the fuckin move im on about the name isnae important; What’s important is that he had two incredibly large men on his shoulders and flung them tae fuck. Stone ducked a big splash in the corner, reversing into a kick to the dome, but Damo had a flight tae catch, and nae surprisingly acrobatic footwork from the Guv’nor was stopping the bear gliding through the air.
First up it would be Grado tae take flight, as he hatched a plan with Damo for the first ever atomic Roll and Slice. Like a Roll n Slice wae Piri Piri Sauce oan it or something. Damo crouched down and Grado used the bear as a launchpad for a devastating roll and slice. Fairly certain Sha Samuels is deid. Then it was Damos turn, with Stone slumped in the corner. Van-Damo-Nator time. Or it should have been, but James R Kennedy came oota nowhere and announced that Damo is nothing but a sack of bearded Irish crap. Timm Wylie coaxed the big man to the back and once again we had the all too familiar sight of Grado facing down the hooligans himself. To his credit, he gave it a fair go. Laying Sha spark ut with the wee boot, but too many hooligans spoil the wrestling match as the old saying goes. Well they spoiled it for Grado anyway, as Stone hit London Bridge, using Sha’s shoulders as some form of support beam. Lights oot. Another win for the villains (think that’s about the 12th different name I’ve given them here) They weren’t fuckin finished either, hitting London Bridge again before Big Damo came out to save Grado from certain death.
It’s been two years now since I went to my first ICW show. 2 years and a bit actually. In that 2 years (and a bit) I’ve seen at least 20-30 Grado matches and each and every single time I still go daft for that entrance. I’ve been told at this show I properly lost my shit and tied my boaby round every single person in the audience like ye’d tie a bow round a birthday present. The point is. 2 years and we’re still as strong as ever. Grado till I die. When Noam Dar called him HIS Grado I’ve never been so affronted by anything in my life. He’s no your Grado, he’s no ma Grado, he’s A’BODYS Grado. And nae amount of cranium destroying beatings fae Stone and Samuels is gonnae change that. Although I’ll no tell any lies, the theme Sha and Stone use is maybe my favourite song. The fact that the only time I’ve ever heard it is when I need tae look at Sha’s coupon, and it’s not put me off it says it all. Absolute nailer of a tune.
Joe Coffey vs Liam Thomson
All data for Joe Coffey has been deleted. The Iron Man came, saw and lariato’ed. The Winter Soldier has come to take the gold. He’ll probably dish out some lariats in the process like, but mainly the gold. I could attempt to paint a picture of how Joe Coffey looked with words. I could say how he looked like a steel plated one man SWAT team. I could say that he looked thirsty for removing some heids. I could say a lot of things, but I wont. Instead I’ll put up a picture taken by Warrior Fight Photography which explains it a lot better than I ever could.
See? Impressive eh. That arm is actually metallic btw. That’s no a creative paintjob or that. Cunt actually went out and got himself a steel plated arm, before throwing it towards Liam Thomson in the form of a hunner shoulderblocks. A strength test led to Coffey bench pressing Thomson above his heid. He’s stronger than Liam anyway, but wae a metal arm yer man had nae chance. Thomson did gather some momentum after Carmel got a wee pull at Joe’s flowing locks. Thomson sent Coffey to the apron, to deliver a dropkick that sent Coffey throat first towards the barrier. Coffey has previously blocked the backcracker when he welded his arm tae the metal ringpost and flipped the ring upside down. He could have just thrown an elbow but there ye go. Yer man’s an innovator. As Carmel was pulling lumps out of Joes hair and calling him a cow, something strange started. As Thomson delivered jabs to the belly, and a pointy elbow to the chest back in the ring, a wee ditty had spread like fuckin wildfire through the venue.
Apparently he’s a wrestler. A mighty wrestler. His name is Joe Coffey.
AWOOOOOOOOOOOO HEEEES JOE COFFEY.
AH JOE COFFEY, AH JOE COFFEY, AH JOE COFFEY, ach yees get the fuckin picture eh? Everyone knows what I’m on about. Everyone in The Garage was sooked intae this hypnotic chant like they were pubes gettin sooked down the drain. Even as Carmel stood on Joes neck after Liam kneed him to the outside, the chant was still going. He’s a soldier, a winter soldier, his name is Joe Coffey. Gettin battered, aff Liam Thomson. His name is Joe Coffey. Mad clothesline in the corner, then a snapmare and a dropkick. His name is Joe Coff…awrite I’ll stop that now. Liam Thomson was bossing it. Thats the central thesis here. Joe got the zest back in his action (the zest back in his action? fuckin hell) with a splash in the corner, but the second one was blocked. Joe locked in the double underhook swings next, before stopping the merry go round, and letting Liam Thomson aff wae a Butterfly Suplex. A MIGHTY Butterfly Suplex at that. Went for the Discus Lariat but Thomson reversed into a clothesline of his own. As amusing as the chants and that were, the most entertaining thing about this match was the match itself. Technical excellence in the ring, and aw sorts of fun outside it. Carmel was continually getting in amongst it as per, and became one half of the first ever double swing. Or a “double shot of Coffey” as Billy Kirkwood called it. Carmel on his shoulders, Liam being swung. Arm made of metal, bells being rung. Sorry, I cannae stop typing in rhyme. Carmel got a swing of her own after the doubler, before a release German Suplex made fae girders sent Liam Thomson tae ga-ga land.
Coffey kept the pressure up with some heavy European Uppercuts, but his attempt at another shoulder shattering German was blocked, and Thomson sent him tae the ropes with a dropkick. An exchange of reversals led to Thomson nailing a sitout powerbomb for a 2 count as this yin kicked intae high gear in tremendous fashion. Really fuckin wish I remembered how good this was at the time. A backcracker attempt was blocked and thats when Joe went tonto.
Apache splashes in the the corner, led to Joe going up top for a heavyweight missile dropkick. Cunt was swinging fae the chandeliers, before he dragged Thomson to his feet and laid him flat out with a short armed lariat. Another near fall. Need tae hit him wae the discus this time eh Joe? Carmel got her neb in once again, and as usual, when that happens, Liam Thomson tends to get his hand raised at the end. One Backcracker later, the game was over. The Winter Soldier had been bested by a wee Embra hardnut and his lethal burd. He wisnae best pleased about it either, getting on the mic afterwards and laying out an open challenge to anyone who thinks they’ve got the stamina to outlast Joe in an Iron Man Match at the Square Go. Even if yer a dapperly homeless looking UFC fighter, or someone wae Japanese blood in ye. Come ahead if ye think yer hard enough. This is the year of Coffey, and no matter what he’s painted up as, his heart beats for pro wrestling. Iron Man, Winter Soldier, Johnny Bravo…whitever the guise may be, Joe Coffey is professional wrestling to the core. This match, and the fact that he won wrestler of the year at the ICW Awards is proof that Joe Coffeys star has never shone brighter on the Scottish stage, and the title shot he’s been handed at Barramania as a result of him winning that award is about as deserved an accolade as anyone earned in ICW. No matter who it is facing him, there’s nae doubt they’ll tear the house down. Cannae see anything at a certain American show that’ll be shown later that night topping it, unless Austin comes back and stunners Goldberg and Brock Lesnar again.
BT Gunn and Wolfgang sign the contract for the Steel Cage match at the Square Go
Nah. Its no gonnae end in a scrap. Look at all they guys in the ring. They guys will form a wall of human life. Or a force field of flesh if ye prefer. It’ll be fine. They’ll sign the bit of paper and go home. Nae fisticuffs. Wolfgang’s in the ring now. Nae problem. Everything fine so far. There’s BT Gunn. He’s got cool music eh? Not a fuckin problem here. A coupla cousins gentlemanly completing the formalities before they bring their feud to a timely end inside the confines of a steel cage made of bits of Joe Coffeys arm. Nae problem. Both signed it without fuss. Eyeballing each other, but at this point, that’s all it is. A bit of eyeballing never hurt anyone. In fact, if ye dae it tae lassies in Wetherspoons, they instantly see it as a mating call. Feel free tae try that out at your earliest convenience. I’m not responsible for you getting slapped though. Aw fuck. Fuck sake Wolfy naw. Wolfy gets on the mic and ye know right away business has picked up. He blames BT Grinch for ruining Christmas. Tearing his family apart. So now he’s gonnae ruin BTs face. Fuck sake man. Thats yer cousin. Leave it!…..aw christ, and now BTs diving on Wolfy. This contract signing has erupted intae complete carnage. Absolutely nae fuckin excuse for this. Yer cousins. Ye can surely stand toe to toe and sign a bit of paper without knocking lumps out each other. Fuck sake. BT Bowling Ball was next on the scene, as he dived aff the top rope to knock everyone in the ring down in one motion, before the rest of the NAK managed to help split them up. Its a shame neither of them are gonnae make it out of the square go alive. I quite enjoy watching them wrestle, but blood is thicker than water, and steel cages are thicker than pretty much everything. Apart fae Buff Bagwell maybe. I was approaching a point there, but I think I’ve lost it. So we’ll move on….NAW WAIT! I mind noo. I was gonnae say if they dae make it out alive, it’ll be as an alliance. Either Wolfie “opening his eyes” or dare I say it (Aye…I think I dare)….BT Gunn closing his.
Davey Boy vs Stevie Boy vs Paul London vs Kenny Williams(c) (ICW Zero-G Title Match)
I try no tae put daft personal shit in these reviews anymore, apart fae wee bits here and there, but I was really steaming at this show and leaned on Connie a lot. Connie’s no very well the noo, so me leaning all 15 stone of me on her hunners isnae kosher. I said I’d make this up tae her by typing a lot of words about the cuddle she got aff Paul London, so that’s whit I’m gonnae dae. More of a memoir of all the cuddles Connie and Paul London have shared over the past few months. To the backdrop to “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias. Imagine that’s playing right now, as Connie waits a hunner paces away fae Paul London in Newcastle. Terrified tae go near him, only for (4th wall about tae break here) big bad heel Renfrew to take her by the hand and lead her tae The Intrepid Traveller. Then he gave her that blue t-shirt in Leeds that looks a bit like a Terrys Chocolate Orange wrapper and its never been aff her back since. Might actually be painted on at this point. Before we journeyed tae Birmingham where we met Paul London, Brian Kendrick, Joe Coffey and Joe Hendry as they emerged fae a tunnel only for Connie tae slip intae full blown cardiac arrest. Right tae Glesga. At Brush Your Goose. Where Paul London was actually asking people where the translucent one was. He eventually found her and embraced her for a full 15 minutes. Breaking the record for longest entrance that he set at PCW when he emptied a sweetie shop round the corner. Munchies can be a bastard sometimes eh. Anyway. Its no been an easy time for Connie lately, but shes dragged her weary body tae hunners of shows, and its nice that Paul London has taken the time tae embrace her, and give out a plethora of right sweaty cuddles. Sometimes an “import” can come to a promotion, have their match, not really give their opponent much to work with, and leave without giving a fuck. Sometimes an “import” becomes part of the furniture. Paul London has become as ICW as a good old fashioned set of Maryhill baws getting dipped in yer unwilling mouth; Whilst this is the last we’ll see of him for a while, he will be fucking back. Before he climbed intae his broken down spaceship, he had one last mission. Win the ICW Zero-G Title.
Winning Zero-G Titles isnae very easy though. Mark Coffey had the belt for the best part of a year. Kenny Williams has defended it at least 20 times since winning and came out with the strap every single time. He was putting it on the line against a legend in Paul London, which is daunting enough, nut then you’ve got the collective will of the Bucky Boys. With Rudolph The RedToaled Reindeer marching out there with them. They might have both been wrestling as singles, but theres nae doubt old tag team instinct would be kicking in at various points. At first Stevie and The Wee Man didnae come out with Davie and Toal, so Santa Davie parked the sleigh and went tae fetch the boaysies. Found them doing a line of ket aff Lambrini’s inner thigh. Apparently shes strictly the gear carrier of the group now. The Wee Man took to the mic to let Paul London know that he wouldn’t be going through his usual routine of ripping the pish out of The Buckys opponents, because reports would correctly suggest Paul London is quite sound. He likes tae go trampolining in his spare time because the closer he can be to the clouds, the better. Wee Man, Stevie and Paul London exchange some heavy cute patter, before Chris Toal The Red Nosed Reindeer ushered in the entrance of The Bollocks wae a HERE WAE…HERE WAE…HERE WE FUCKIN GO…..
Fuck me. Spent a fair while talking shite about entrances here eh. Kenny came tae the ring. Looking shiny in all sorts of ways and we had us a wrasslin match. As all four competitors shook hands, a team of fairies floated into the ring and places a barbershop window behind Davie Boy. Unbeknown to him. And within seconds of the bell ringing a superkick from Stevie connected flush on his cousins jaw, sending him clean through the windae. Shattering his jaw, and his heart in one motion. That left Paul London and Kenny Williams to indulge us in all the flippy shit, with Kenny ducking a Paul London attack to catch him with the Springboard Back Elbow. They got into a forearm war, only to turn round and catch a double missile dropkick off Stevie. I think he intended to hit them with some sort of suicidal dive, but Davie Boy stopped him in his tracks. Still picking teeth and bits of barbershop glass oot his erse. He pulled Stevie in close and whispered “you broke my heart Fredo” before lifting him about 50 feet intae the air and laying him spark out with a spinebuster. Maybe I spoke too soon when I said The Buckys would work together at some point, cause the communication between the troops was not as it usually is here. Teamwork makes the dreamwork boys. Paul London turned every single man in the ring intae his team mate with a series of innovative, quite sexy moves. A neckbreaker on Kenny which landed on Stevie, which acted as a variation of “throwing a motherfucker at another motherfucker” (fuck knows whit im quoting there, I think its a meme) before using Kenny as a diving board for a dropkick turned into a standing moonsault. London looked like he had given himself an opening to win, only for Davey to launch himself off the ropes intae a brutal spear. That didn’t get the job done and Kenny seemed tae kick into high gear. Nae messing. If that tile is staying round yer size 28 waist, ye need tae get in amongst these cunts. Baseball slide dropkick on one side of the ring to Stevie Boy, and the Suicide Dive for Davie, followed by a crossbody off the top rope. Stevie derailed his momentum with a scud to the jaw, before catching Kenny going for the patented Springboard Elbow and turning it intae a Diamond Cutter. Surely thats a new champ eh? NUT. Shoulder up. Game’s still alive troops.
A bridging German Suplex from Davie was broken up by a Shooting Star Press with the sorest of all the landings from Paul London. Looked like he collided with big Davies shoulder, but as dodgy as it looked. Nae real harm done. Kenny used the opening to slide Paul London into a cheeky wee rollup and 3 seconds later, The Bollocks had once again retained. As if it was ever gonnae end differently. At this point I question if anyone has enough in the tank to take it from Kenny. If a legend like Paul London can fall short, who’s good enough to take it? Paul London addressed the crowd one more time in his usual charisma ridden manner. I cannae really do his words justice with my words, because as much as my stuff is a wee bit offbeat at times, yer man Paul London’s on a whole other planet. Higher than I could possibly get. So instead I’ll just say cheers for entertaining us for the past couple of months. Its been fantastic.
Joe Hendry’s career is on the fuckin line at Spacebaws. This might be the first time I actually witness the start and end of a career live, having seen Joe make his pro wrestling debut at the SWA Battlezone last year. Its a career far too young and prosperous to come to an end though. Even just an ICW end. There has to be a better way. Surely no man needs THAT much motivation. Its a position James R Kennedy put him in without his consent anaw and he exhibited his distaste at that once again by telling the velvet suited Armenian businessman tae sling his fuckin hook. Joe told Kenny after their match at Fear and Lothian he respected him and he knows the feeling’s mutual, but come Spacebaws, respect goes clean out the windae. Kenny Williams stands between Joe Hendry and the rest of his career, and if he disnae reach out for that brass….eh…belt? Aye. The belt. If he disnae reach out and grab it, ICW will no longer be a part of Joe Hendrys meteoric rise through the wrestling ranks. So either he wins it, its a no contest, or Joe Hendry signs wae NXT on the 1st of January. Thats yer three options. No matter what, if the match is half as good as the one in Edinburgh, it’ll tear The Garage a new ersehole.
Drew Galloway vs Kid Fite (ICW Title Match)
Speaking of things capable of tearing The Garage a new ersehole. Drew Galloway was set to put his belt on the line for the first time against a man who is as Glesga as Frank Mccavennie’s buck teeth. The boldest of the bold. Kid Fite. They done a cracking job getting folk hype for the match with the funny wee promo they cut backstage. Both insisting they were winning, and almost apologising to the opponent in the process. Nae need for apologies guys, its kinda your job to knock fuck out each other for our viewing pleasure. I was pleasantly surprised with the degree of fucks they did knock out of each other though. This wisnae just filler before Renfrew finally cashes in, there were plenty of points where it looked like Fito might actually win the fucker.
Before I say things about the match, I want tae vent this. See cunts commenting on things involving Drew in the smaller ICW ring? Shut the fuck up. The size of the ring has no relevance whatsoever. Dave Mastiff and Big Damo had one of the best matches of 2014 in the same wee ring, and they weigh a metric tonne. Each. Drew being a 6 foot 6 big dream ae a boy does not mean wrestling in a wee ring immediately becomes faux pas. Yer man still does his thing. And does it well. Fundamentals are the same no matter what size the ring is know what I mean? Its all about FUNDAMENTALS. Such as collar and elbow tieups, and all the shoulderblocks and leapfrogs yer eyes can possibly behold as they got to running the ropes. Drew eventually got the upper hand with a pair of dropkicks, the second one sending Fito, his famous baws and his right shoulderblade flying into the crowd. They chopped fuck out of each other in the crowd for a big, stopping to take sare chest selfies with fans, before Drew chucked Fito into a puggy and won the jackpot. The prize was a beer gettin scudded aff yer heid, before Fito sent him and his Herbal Essences treated dome towards the very same puggy he fell victim too. They eventually made it back to the ring, only after Drew had used two fans to hold Fito’s arms, before delivering the sarest chop of the match yet. Kid Fite got some revenge by sending Drew baws first across one of the booths at the side of the ring, before we finally made it back to the tiny wee ring, and thats when it got really fuckin good.
The move Drew done after that looked a lot like yon White Noise Sheamus does. It was either the same move, or one helluva like it. Either way. It hurt. That was made blatantly obvious when Fito regurgitated wee bits of his spleen as he kicked out at 2. Whoever said anyone needs a full spleen anyway? Stiff jabs and and a snap suplex to rival Fito’s own snap suplex. Its a ballsy move to snap suplex the best snap suplexer in the game. Thats like trying tae out double stomp Devitt, or going to Ricky Hattons house and trying to beat him at a good old fashioned game of “doing cocaine and eating cheeseburgers”
Obviously incensed by Drew having the bollocks to hit him with his signature move he sent Drew to outside before booting his breastbone through his nostrils with a big kick aff the apron. Made the silly mistake of being caught in mid air though, never leave yer feet against a man that size unless you’ve managed tae amputate his calf muscles. Drew planted him with a powerslam on the stage. Being soaked in adulation, and flat beer by the fans round the stage as he bellowed “ITS QUITTIN TIME!” intae the night sky. I dunno if that means he was about to end the mask, or perhaps it means nothing because I made it up entirely. He was signalling for the finish but Kid Fite wisnae quite ready to go home empty handed yet. Snapmare followed by a big kick to the chest, but Drew rose up once again. Not quite in an Undertaker way, more a wide eyed and mental Brian Pillman way. They jabbed the life out each other before Drew planted Fito with a sitout spinebuster for a 2 count. Less of this sitout spinebuster patter Drew. Ye know fine well that’s no putting Kid Fite away big yin.
The Futureshock might have big Fito dodged it and hit a beauty of a brainbuster for a 2 count. The same brainbuster that put Johnny Moss away to earn him this shot. If one could put Johnny Moss away, surely two would be enough for big Drew eh? Mossy’s naewhere near Drews stature height wise, but he is a big unit of a man. The second brainbuster hit the mark, but once again Drew got the shoulder up and Fito was not best pleased wae that. You’ll have seen it happen countless times. Things don’t work out the way a wrestler wants, and he starts shaking the ref like a vendy that ate his 2 pound coin without spitting out so much as a bag of skittles. It was an error in judgement because it brought Tam The Vigilante intae the firing line and yer man caught a beautiful lunging dropkick to the jaw. Took the bump quite beautifully tae. Like a young Eddie Sideburns. Or Earl Hebner if he was 2 feet taller. It knocked the ref out of commission though, and once Fito hit the sweeping DDT there was naecunt to count. Eventually referee hauners arrived but only in time for a two count and an exasperated Fito took The Futureshock much like you’d take handful of Tramadol, by immediately passing out, unable to feel his face. The Futureshock was enough for the 3 and that was that. Drew helped Fito to his feet and we all rose to hail our champion as he hurtles towards his meeting with Renfrew at the Square Go at a devastating pace. Surely nothing could stand in his way. Unless….aw fuck…..
CARD SUBJECT TO CHANGE.
Aw fuck. BT and Divers. That’s BT and Divers…that means….aw naw. Or is it aw aye? I don’t know. I’m so conflicted. Not like this Renfrew. It’ll not mean the same if you don’t stand toe to toe with the titan and take him down wae yer own bare hands. Don’t dae. Aw fuck. Too late. MAN DOWN! Briefcase was delivered over Drews napper as Renfrew snuck in the ring from the opposite side. Surely this was it. The ultimate bait and switch. Announce the match, then change the fuckin card. Chris Renfrew vs Drew Galloway for the ICW Title might be happening at the Square Go, but the roles of champion and challenger were about to be reversed. Renfrew didnae ask for the bell to be rung though. He asked for a mic instead. And told us all to get fucked. Renfrew got a pop ye see. Of course he did. Folk love the cunt, but never forget he disnae love us. He’s a bad bad man. And he will make it his business to shite all over our hopes and expectations. He leaves Drew in a heap, with the words ringing in his ear. “You’re only here because you have to be here, Chris Renfrew is in ICW because he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else” as Renfrew hoisted the belt above his head and promised he would leave the Square Go with the shiny belt. He’ll be there team handed so nae doubt he thinks he’ll be true to his word, but Drew Galloway is basically like a one man stable. He kicked the heid clean aff the vigilante. He Futureshocked Jack Jester so hard his soul left his body. He’s not a man to be fucked with, so for Renfrew to refrain from cashing in the easy way and insisting that he takes the belt from Drew the old fashioned way says it all about the set of baws the cunt has on him. Rather you than me big man.
Drew heard him loud and clear. Cutting an impromptu promo telling Renfrew that the only reason he’s been building this empire in ICW is that he’s not fuckin good enough to go anywhere else. Vicious, passionate, brutal stuff. Bret Hart vs HBK type of insults getting chucked out. Kayfabe realness. How much of it is real and how much is kayfabe remains to be seen, but theres nae doubt that this feud has all of a sudden become just as emotionally charged as the one Drew was involved in when he took the belt. The Square Go is gonnae be fuckin chaos. Steel cages, and steel cases aw err the joint.
Last show of the year. Cheers to everyone for reading my words throughout the year. I’ve enjoyed escaping fae real life shite and travelling all over the shop to see these mad bastards knock the shite out of each other, and I greatly appreciate all the support I’ve had from folk. Was leaning towards jacking this in at the end of the year tbh, but fuck that. As much as it might never earn me a living, or even enough for a wee bus trip tae Ayr for a stock-a-rock, this is the thing I do, and I’ll be doing it until Bleach inhalation takes away my motor functionality. ICDUB! or suhin.