It was a night of homecomings as ICW finished up the tour back in its home city, Red Lightning re-assumed GM duties at the venue where he had some of his finest moments as champion, and Stevie Boy came home to the venue where I first seen him, and ICW. Super Smokin Thunderbowl in 2012. Stevie Boy took his life into his hands when during a Glasgow Street Fight that pitted him, Davey Boy, Chris Renfrew, Jack Jester and Jimmy Havoc against Shite To Censor (featuring a less bear-esque version of Big Damo, who ran a cheese grater over Jimmy Havocs napper) he decided that he was going to jump aff the balcony at The Garage and and 5 feet from me. The impression Stevie Boy left on me that night tipped me in favour of going to the next ICW show and I’ve been hooked ever since. I suppose what I’m trying to say is without Stevie Boy nearly killing himself that night, there might never have been any reviews. All necks would have remained unsnapped, so its only fitting that the man who captured the imagination more than any other the first time I saw wrestling in that venue, happens to be the same man who gave the venue arguably its most earth shattering ICW moment. In case the picture at the top didn’t tip you off, Stevie Boy and Kay Lee Ray joined the family.
Red, Drew, Whiplash, Words
Fuckin Red Lightning. I’ve never loved and hated a wrestling character so much at the same time. On one hand he has the craft of being a complete and utter prick down to a fine art, and you cant help but respect how brilliant he is at his job, but on the other hand…..he’s a complete and utter prick. Sent here to destroy our good times, and interrupt everything we love. Ye like shaggin yer wife mate aye? Red Lightning will interrupt that. Ye like getting a line up at the bookies dae ye? Red Lightning will set your coupon on fire. Ye like seeing Big Damo in the building on ICW night? Well guess what. Red Lightning can and did ban him from the building. Unhappy that Big Damo had the audacity to batter lumps out of big Drew again when he had suspended him and reluctantly allowed him to rejoin the roster for the tour, he told him to stay the fuck away. He told the crowd Drew wasn’t defending the belt that night. Enter Drew.
Apparently Drew’s been getting steamin for 6 weeks and was disappointed with the way the big Mayweather v Pacquiao fight went, proving that even if he is 6 foot 7, with a Scamerican accent, he’s the same as you and I. The common Scottish person, who says “aye” and “oot” and “shut the fuck up Red” with a greater frequency than we’d care to admit. We love ah right gid colloquialism so we dae. Ahts how ma reviews first goat noticed, cause ah done them different tae the way ye’d seen afore. But much like Drew, I can do this shit without the slang and its probably better when I do. When Mikey Whiplash came out and gave Drew a bit of snash for being a little bitch back in the day, and how he couldn’t lace Whiplash’s boots, Drew seemed to snap. As puffs of rage steam started escaping from his ears, the slang was gone, the jovial air of a man who’s enjoying his holidays back in the homeland had vanished. All business. He IS the business remember, and he claims to be the very best the professional wrestling world has to offer right now. You want a title shot Whiplash? You’ve got it. But you’re gonnae get yer baws toed aw er The Garage. Or to put it in less colloquial terms…….Red Lightning said yes, the match was set.
BT Gunn vs Grado
BT Gunn was already fairly mental, and this latest incarnation of The Oddity is pretty much just a more extreme version of what we had before (hands up if ye got a stauner as soon as I said extreme? haha! fuckin ECDUB! amiright? mind them? Aye they died. Get err it) I think the only way for a guy who once threatened a pregnant lassie with scissors to get more depraved is if ye goes on a killing spree, cuts a bit of skin off each of his victims, and uses that skin to make a mask. Imagine he done that eh? Or imagine he started making a habit of spitting burny blood in folks eyes and them losing wrestling matches as a result? Total chaos would ensue. Funnily enough, that’s exactly what the BT Gunn rebirth entails. Basically he’s a bit scarier and weirder than he was before, and he’s still really good at wrestling. I was intrigued by this match because on paper its essentially a psychopath up against a human ice cream cone. Melts in high temperatures, makes people of all ages happy and if ye lick him, he’ll probably taste a bit sugary. It might no be cool and hip to love Grado any more, but fuck the lot of yees. Even though the cunt will probably never dae my interview, when Like A Prayer comes on, the skants are immediately off. And if you’ve got a problem with me being an NAK fanboy and a Grado fanboy at the same time, theres a t-shirt ICW sell with purple writing on it that sums up how I feel about that. Anyway. Wrestling.
BT attempted to end the contest early by chopping Grado’s left tit off (you automatically forfeit wrestling matches if you get yer tit sewn off) but Grado ducked both atomic chop attempts, and wagged the finger in The Oddity’s coupon. Not today Mr Gunn. BT switched strategy and went for a German Suplex, but Grado utilised a tactic that my dug utilises every single night when shes told its time to move from the couch intae her bed. Grado went completely dead weight and made it impossible for BT to lift him. Even if he is 6 weeks deep at slimming world, theres still too much meat on they bones for that patter. The shake rattle and roll kicked into high gear, but BT avoided the bionic elbow and landed a pair of beautiful chops. That was enough for Grado. Up that road for the Emmerdale omnibus. Fuck this pish. BT followed him to the outside, but had his legs swept from underneath him as soon as he landed on the apron, and he had a Grado shaped missile heading for his jaw moments later as Grado hit the roll and slice off the apron. Grado needs to stay in his lane though. You get one move per match where yer feet leave the ground. Thats it. Either you hit it or miss it, but don’t go trying a second one ffs. That’s not your game. He climbed up on the barrier anyway and got a slap to the chops from BT on his way down. Silly Grado. BT then delivered a kick to the heart off the apron and for a brief moment, Grado ceased to be. More chops ensued, before Grado once again had the bionic elbow countered, only to catch BT with the elbow second time as he bounced off the ropes. Well done on landing the elbow and that, but every chop BT lands on you claims a piece of your soul. That burny blood he spits at folk was extracted from GPWA trainees during intensive chopping sessions. Don’t fuck with BT Gunn. He’s a bad bad man.
Grado went for the Wee Boot but got clobbered by a beauty of a superkick, and as he swayed about like a jakie that just wannered a hauf bottle, BT came towards him full pelt only to be caught and hoisted on to Grado’s shoulders for the F5. Game’s a bogey. Ice Cream Cone 1 Oddity 0. NUT. BT got the shoulder up. BT kicked into hyperdrive after that, nailing Grado with a stoater of a snap suplex, followed by another jaw shattering superkick, but this time Grado got the shoulder up and had the momentum back on his side when he hit that roll and slice, but that was a 2 count tae. Wee Boot was next up, but not today. The only wee boots in attendance that night were the cunts pouring beer on to peoples heads from the top tier of The Garage. Fuck they guys. Or FACEfuck they guys as BT would, and thats my way of seamlessly telling you that BT Gunn ducked the wee boot, hit the facefucker, and picked up the win.
Lionheart vs Darkside
A lot of questions were answered at this show, but when it came to yer man Darkside, absolutely nothing was settled. Is he still a part of the NAK? who knows. Did he bring out a chain on fire because he really likes setting chains on fire or was it symbolism? Not a clue. One thing that was for certain is that he nearly burned the place down, as he came out to his old jaunty wee Japanese gameshow-esque tune. Darkside is back. Lionheart’s been back for a while but has embarked upon Scotlands BEEEEEEEEST losing streak (sorry) and while I’m not one who places a lot of significance on wins and losses in wrestling, Hearto needed a win here, or its relegation places for the big man. Eyes on the prize. Extinguish the darkside.
The only thing getting extinguished early on was Lionheart’s breathing, as he caught a suicide dive to the throat. Not a regular move for yer Darkside, and certainly not one he utilised often in the NAK, so is that an indication of were his loyalties lie? Or was it just a wrestler hitting a suicide dive? So many questions and nothing even hinting at an answer so far, as Lionheart reversed a piledriver attempt at the side of the stage to backdrop Darkside on to the concrete (well its actually wooden flooring, but it sounds more brutal when ye say concrete) floor. A rock bottom brought us a near fall, before the corner brogue kick knocked Darkside very slightly dizzy. A second brogue amped the dizziness up a bit, and Darkside invited a third one. He wanted knocked oot. He had more things to set on fire and couldn’t be fucked being in The Garage any longer whilst so many people/things were not ablaze. He was playing possum though. It was a ruse. That dastardly darkside fooled us again, just like he did a year earlier when he “retired” from being James Scott and became the NAKs Darkside. Third brogue kick was ducked, and Hearto was chucked a mile in the air with an Exploder Suplex. To add insult to suplex induced coma, yer man Darkside decided to cover Hearto with his little Darkside a wee bit too close to his opponents face.
A superkick landed square on Darksides jaw soon after, but he laughed it off. Lit a cigar, and failed to extinguish it correctly. Causing the whole building, and the whole of Glasgow to burn down. They continued to wrestle in the ashes, and Darkside hit that thing that’s very like the GTS, but instead of connecting with the knee, you connect with a kick to the side of the heid. We’ll call it the Get Tae Fuck for now as a placeholder but we can do better. We will be better. Darkside was playing up to the crowd throughout this match, but proved that he remains a dirty heel when he went for the Styles Clash, but Lionheart wriggled free and hit a very un-PG piledriver to set him up for the win. This is it. The big comeback in ICW finally gains a bit of traction with this Frog Splash, but there was NOBODY HOME. He dialled 1-800-lets get froggy, and the operator was no longer available. It was like when ye watch re-runs of old RAWS, and the the message comes up that you can no longer phone the superstar hotline and speak directly to Henry Godwinn about slop buckets and his future career as a gimp.
Lionheart has looked like Lionheart since coming back to ICW. He’s swaggered out to the ring like Lionheart used to. He’s been a very good imitation of what Lionheart used to be, but there’s a wee something missing. He’s been a few steps short of his usual pace. A less rousing figure than the one we used to know. I suppose what I’m trying to say is Lionheart needs to find that fire again, and not only is that entirely true, its also a fun way to transition into telling you about the finish, and Darkside grabbed that chain that he set on fire earlier, got put in position for the rock bottom, fought out of said rock bottom by lighting the chain on fire and scudding Hearto with it, then…..as the fire raged on and singed all the pencil drawn eyebrows in the front row clean off, Darkside locked in a reverse triangle choke for the win.
So what did we learn from this yin? Darkside is back and likes setting things on fire. Lionheart cant buy a win and apparently he can’t buy a pal, because a man who had been banned from the building by Red Lightning flouted that ban and emerged from a very dark place. From the souls of all the poor wrestlers who had the integrity of their ribcage questioned every time the big bastard stood on it. The beast from Belfast Big Damo asked The Garage crowd “if it fuckin looked like he was banned from the building?” after he’d furthered flattened Hearto with a senton to the breadbasket. I suppose the moral of the story there is….Damo diz whit he wants, when he wants.
Jack Jester vs Joe Hendry
Joe’s got a new song. Its a jaunty, hilarious tune involving smoothies, smooth lyrics, and biblical undertones. He and Jester entered, and circled each other for near enough half enough before finally doing some wrestling. Joe slapping Jacks coupon early on and throwing a few European Uppercuts in the general direction of jesters jaw. Jester slapped him back and locked in the worlds tightest side headlock, causing Joe to purposefully dislodge his own head so he could slide out of it and become Heidless Hendry. With a song for our hearts, and a heid for our…eh….shoulders.
More wrestling happened. With Joe inviting his pal Jack to the outside so they could play the way Jack likes to play. Jester gave chase, and got vertical suplexed a belter back in the ring. Joe holding Jack up long enough for him to finish the crossword in the Sunday Mail, before finally delivering the spine shattering blow. Jester dragged Hendry to the outside, where he procured a party hat from a gentleman in the front row and hit the apron legdrop to leave Hendry in agony. Well it would have if he didnae remove his head moments earlier. Why was there party hats I hear you ask? Longtime ICW fan and longtime human Connie Williams beat cancer for the second time. So there was a celebration of that. “That” being a loyal fan not dying anytime soon. It might lack decorum to put this slap bang in the middle of a wrestling review, but well done to Connie for not dying, and well done to everyone who made an effort to make it a rerr day for her in celebration of that. All yer party hats, glitter, signs and soft but potent drugs were very much appreciated.
The wrestling continued, and with Jester dominating, Joe burst out the Freak Of Nature from nowhere. Only a two count for that, and a superplex left Hendry super-per-plexed (ho ho!) soon after. Pedigree attempt was swiftly reversed into the Joe Hen-Dree DeeDeeTee for a count that was one less than three. Hendry went for the trip around the globe, but Jester reversed it into the Tombstone to give him a win on his first ICW match in Glasgow since he lost the ICW Title to Drew Galloway at the Barrowlands Ballroom.
Chris Renfrew vs Dickie Divers (Chairs Match)
We were promised a fucktonne of violence when these two faced each other at The Barras. Divers was going to perish in a pool of his own blood. Divers was going to have his right leg pulled aff and shoved up his jacksie. Divers might have left that match with a beating heart but he wasn’t leaving with his soul. Thing is, as violent as that match was, and as much as Divers took an absolutely doing afterwards. The match was overshadowed by Wolfgang opening his eyes, and Divers? Well he’s not dead. Metaphorically or physically. He continues to be a thorn in the side of his former brother and you could be forgiven for thinking Renfrew’s maybe took his eye off Divers a wee bit. He keeps fighting him aye. But there’s other things always on the agenda. There was Lionheart, there’s still Mikey Whiplash and there’s even still a hint of Tommy End on his radar, so Divers lives and still has a shiny briefcase that he can cash in for a title shot at anytime. Divers is proving to be surprisingly good at eh….being good? Throughout the tour down south he got favourable crowd reactions, and anytime anyone did give him a bit of snash (aye…I’m saying snash quite often noo, got a ploblem?) he fired back in kind. I cannae mind exactly what he said to the guy in Liverpool who shouted at him, but it was along the lines of “I’m gonnae sharpen yer maws chin n stab yer Da wae it” or eh….something less specific and violent.
They started with a good old fashioned duel, as Divers put his pink chair up against the green number Renfrew came out with. The chair duel ended when both warriors dropped their weapons, and when Renfrew made a move to pick his back up Divers intervened before eventually catching a flying chair to his upper right molar. That’s like…yer most secure tooth though. It didnae even flinch. Divers got Renfrew on the apron and leapt from a good 2 feet in the air, catching Renfrew with the pink punisher on the way down (thats a chair…NOT a dildo) Renfrew got the upper hand and sent Divers heid first towards the pink penetrator (its called that cause….like…it penetrates the soul of whoever gets hit by it…..nah there’s nae way to make that one not sound like a dildo) as it was set up in the corner, and followed that up with the Stoner for a 2 count. With Divers lying hauf deid, out came the big guns. A black chair with barbed wire wrapped round it that we’ll call “The Black Mangler” so we finally have a name for a chair that disnae sound like any kind of sex toy…..wait…..aw fuck….
Divers stopped Renfrew from smashing him with the barbed wire chair, and must have thought he had the game sewn up when he pick up that beautiful instrument of destruction for his own use, but Renfrew ducked it and Divers smashed the top rope with the chair instead, and watched it rebound straight for his coupon. A back suplex on to the chair brought a 2 count, as Renfew went looking for more toys. A red chair this time. The red lady we’ll call this one, so instead of a sex toy, this yin sounds like a high class hooker. Renfrew set the chair up but a kick from Divers sent him arse first on to it, and another kick to the chest sent him flying. Divers got the Dark Destroyer back in his hands, and smashed it across it across Renfrews back, causing instantly visible blood to start streaming down his back. Violence promised, violence delivered. Divers set the barbed wire chair up on Renfrews back and then he went and chucked himself on top of it cause he’s aff his fuckin nut. Nae other explanation for that. Ye deliberately dived on to barbed wire mate. Please don’t do that again.
Oh god. Did ye no hear me? Divers just wasn’t listening to reason. Back under the ring he went for perhaps the most menacing chair of them all. Every single inch of it covered in thumbtacks, probably glued to the chair wae the devils spunk. A tug of war ensued, with both men trying to suplex each other on the thumbtack sack splitter, with Renfrew ending the back and forth with a DDT on the chair. Deid. He must be deid. Surely he’s fuckin deid now. Not quite yet, as Renfrew chucked the two original chairs into the ring and set them up for something that would probably resemble more of an execution than a wrestling move, but he was caught slipping, and caught a move Divers calls The Impaler (well mibbe he disnae, but Billy Kirkwood called it that on commentary, so thats the name it’s getting) through the two chairs, giving Divers the win.
Disnae matter who you are, or how much hot fire ye spit on that mic, or how many soldiers are in your army…if someone sends ye heid first through two chairs, you’re bound to feel that shit. Divers remains alive and thriving. He’s gonnae need hauners soon right enough, because his former comrades added another couple of soldiers to the ranks. Scary shit.
Liam Thomson batters Simon Cassidy
If Liam Thomsons new gimmick is “battering folk and leaving everyone in the audience/world asking ‘why the fuck did he batter him/her?’ ” then he’s nailing it, because battering Simon Cassidy is akin to kicking a puppy’s heid in. A puppy with an extremely clear voice and sharp dress sense, but still a puppy. So that’s his own fiancée and a puppy that he’s battered in his last two visits to Glasgow. Thomson accused Simon Cassidy of laughing as some decorum free sections of the crowd gave him pelters about being from Edinburgh and no being able to get tae sleep without a right good mug of Horlicks wae marshmallows floating in it. He leathered Simon and bragged about how he had previously leathered Carmel, then he stoated down Buchanan Street to the Donald Dewar statue and gave it the middle finger, because he’s not a cool heel. He’s not a face who shakes his genitalia in the direction of fans/fellow performers/checkout girls at ASDA. He’s a proper bad bastard.
The Bucky Boys vs Wolfgang
I know the big man probably paid a pretty penny for the singlets with the “W” on them, but its impossible to ignore how much more of a bad yin big Wolfie looks in the black vest and jeans combo. Wolfgang was out because we needed answers from him. According to Renfrew the questions would be answered in due time, but they had unfinished business with the Bucky Boys first. Renfrew insisted that Wolfgang had more than enough to beat both Bucky Boys and end this feud for good, and well. The feud definitely did end I suppose eh?
The Wee Man fired out some patter, as he proudly declared Stevie Boy the new Zero-G champion. A man who he has personally mentored through countless wrestling matches, 112 court dates and a mild opium dependence, finally got his hands on the singles gold. A proud moment for The Bucky Clan as they came home with a champion in their ranks, and a wee handicap match to ease them back into things as a duo. As formidable as Wolfgang is, him vs the former tag team champions was a tall order. They started off with some high octane double team magic, with Davey launching himself off Stevies back for a crossbody. A mis-cue saw Davey send Stevie teeth first to the barrier on the outside, and Wolfgang saw the opening to scud Davey with the Slam Dunk. A big belter of a spinebuster took Wolfie off his feet, but Davey used that opportunity to check on the welfare of Stevies front teeth and that was fuckin daft. A gorilla press smoothly transitioned into a powerslam from the big yin, as he shook his head and said “NAW” to the chants of “we’re having a party when Wolfie wins”. Dont get me wrang like. He did win, and there was a party, its just that none of us were fuckin invited.
The Wee Man climbed in to give some light relief to Davey, as Stevie lay stricken and unable to provide adequate hauners for his brother. Wee Man had the integrity of his neck questioned when he got smashed with a big fuck off lariat upon entering the ring, before behing hoisted up for the last call, but Davey cleaned him out with a spear, and out the corner of our collective eye, we all seen Stevie coming alive in the corner. Primed and ready for the HOAT TAG!!!!
Another year, another hooded figure. Another earth shattering, shite yer skants inducing, heart beating far too fast for its ain good moment. A slim human, in a black hoodie, black trousers and balaclava battled through the crowd and appeared at ringside. My initial guess was Paul Robinson, cause he’s also quite skinny and the NAK took him hostage after the last show but it wasn’t Paul Robinson was it. Why would it be. That would make absolutely nae sense. Why would Paul Robinson have a problem wae The Bucky Boys? I suppose it made a lot more sense than the person it turned out to be, as the hooded assailant swept Stevie Boy off his feet (no for the first time eh? amiright? cause they go oot in real life n that) when he reached for the tag, before going up top and hitting Davey with a huricanrana. Who urr ye though!? What business do you have with our Buckies. SHOW YOURSELF! The hood came off and an empahtic scud to the baws headed in Daveys direction as the baw scudding, Stevie sweeping villain was revealed as none other than Stevies burd and globe trotting lassie wrestling hero KAY LEE RAY. Kay Lee Ray as betrayed her extended family and surely ended her relationship with one swift kick tae the baws. There really isn’t anything more Scottish than that is there?
Stevie climbed into the ring and looked absolutely crestfallen. Heartbroken that the love of his life could betray him like this and align herself with his sworn enemies. The guys responsible for numerous extremely painful dunts to his heid, and occasionally other body parts. They hated Stevie because he kidded on to join them a year earlier, only to attack them from behind. They never forgot and they took the ultimate revenge by not opening his eyes, or even Daveys eyes. Nah. They opened his burds eyes. A solitary tear escaped from Stevies right eye as he pondered his next move, and then came the smile…..
Stevie pulled Davey Boy up and shoved him between his legs. That’s not as dirty as it sounds btw….ITS EVEN DIRTIER. Cause what the fuck is more dirty than a dirty dirty heel turn. The Canadian Destroyer looked like it was in slow motion, as Davey and Stevie linked up for the very last time. Their 4 year bond severed and Davey’s skull and heart broke simultaneously. I stopped writing previews for ICW shows cause I hated guessing things and getting them right, but never in a million months of Sundays did I see that coming. STEVIE BOY HAS JOINED THE NAK. THE BUCKY BOYS ARE DEAD.
Stevie ordered Tam Kearins to count the pin as Wolfgang covered Davey to end the match that was still going. Fuckin forgot clean all about that cause MY HEART STOPPED. Stevie Boy winning the Zero-G Title had been my favourite ICW moment of the year until this night, but yer man went and trumped it again with perhaps the best heel turn in ICW history. Even better than the one Wolfgang had at Barramania, although it served the exact same purpose for him as an individual as it did for Wolfgang. Its a shot in the arm for someone who despite being very talented, had done pretty much the same thing in ICW for the best past of 4 years. Wolfgang and his smiley, jokey, Hungry Like The Wolf persona was done. The feud with BT was the peak for good guy Wolfie. Same as winning the Zero-G was the peak for Bucky Boy Stevie. Both of them needed an evolution. Now Wolfgang comes out with an extra bit of aggression about him, which was on display for all to see when he drove Davey through a table to finish the poor cunt off; and Stevie can leave Jeremy Kyle in his worst nightmares and start charging full price for his weed. He disnae even need to smile anymore because no matter how much they get cheered, and how much an impact moments like these have on the ICW crowd, the New Age Kliq (pronounced cleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek…wonder if The Wee Man knows how to pronounce ‘betrayal’) are villains, and they will continue to use your adulation to their advantage. The pure unadulterated euphoria that spilled fae the corner I was in, as we high fived and touched wullies in celebration will one day become t-shirt sales. Thats the business for ye. NAK Till Death.
Polo Promotions and Red Lightning have a chat
Red bloody Lightning. Initially this had the potential to be special. Red Lightning called Polo Promotions out for a chinwag, and that meant Polo vs Lightning on the mic. Even Polo with a burst cheek should still provide an adequate standard of patter to hold his own. The whole Polo Promotions clan made their way out, and Polo lauded the job Red’s done as GM, whilst thanking him for allowing Jackie and Mark to have the night off as Polo rehabs his burst cheek. Ye see, as soon as the clock hit midnight, and Sunday became Monday, yer Polo Promotions become the longest reigning ICW Tag Team Champions, an what better way is there to celebrate than with a wee night off, chock full of cheer, beer and high grade gear. Red was having none of it right enough. Mark Coffey defended the belts on his own during the tour? He can fuckin do it again. Its been a bit shite not having Jackie wrestle for a while, but Mark Coffey is a born champion. Theres something about that cunt when he’s got a belt that makes it look secure. Nae offence to Kenny, but when Mark Coffey had the Zero-G, there wouldn’t be any surprise losses to Danny Hope, or any of that carry on. Mark Coffey would have methodically pulled every ounce of energy out of Danny Hopes body with knees to the gut, and pumphandle pumpin. Even faced with a handicap match, Coffey still feels like a good bet to hold on the belts. Especially since his opponents were guys he’d already beat in various different matches on the tour, so fuck it. If ye really are the real deal, prove it and knock fuck out these MUGS.
Polo was also faced with a 12 month ICW ban if he did get involved in a match he insisted wasn’t actually happening, but happen it most certainly did as The 55 swaggered on out.
Mark Coffey vs Martin Kirby and Kid Fite (w/Sha Samuels and James R.Kennedy)
Coffey was handling business early on. Keeping Kirby isolated from his corner as he flung him about like burst sanny. The numbers game caught up with Coffey as he allowed James R Kennedy to distract him long enough for Kirby and Fito the upper hand. Snarling, heel Fito is the best kinda Fito, because he’s so easy to dislike. The type of cunt that would break yer jaw and shag yer maw in the same day. The type of cunt that shave yer heid and tell ye yer dugs deid. A bad yin. Funnily enough his former tag partner has been a right nasty cunt lately as well, and Fito appears to be having limited success with the tag partners he’s been paired with in The 55, so maybe the bold Liam Thomson is on The 55s radar as a potential addition to the Traitorous Bastard wing of The 55 (also known as “The Scottish Wing”)
The impossibly smooth Martin Kirby gave his team some momentum with a heel kick, before Fito got in to snarl at people while kicking them in the gut. Namely Mark Coffey. Coffey hit back with a kick of his own, then he cleaned Kirby out with a superb lariat. Right tae his gloriously shiny dome. An extremely East mixup on the apron caused Kid Fite to knock Sha Samuels towards the crowd, before Coffey planted Fito with a back suplex. A succession of forearms followed by a powerslam had Coffey in control once again, he capitalised on it by swinging Kid Fite about in a manner that looked like the most fun anyones ever had. He was taking his tag partner out as he was getting swung, but theres nae way Kid Fite wasn’t going “wheeeeeeee” as Mark Coffey spun him. The Deathwish Forearm followed by a bridging back suplex nearly got the win for Coffey, but the numbers game fucked it again. Fito broke up the pin and a man had seen enough. AN IRON MAN TO PRECISE….ho ho….yees know who that is eh?
HE’S A WRESTLER, A MIGHTY WRESTLER….who didn’t have a wrestling match on this show for eh…some reason. He was out to defend his wee brother’s honour anyway. Smashing Sha and Kennedy, before jumping in the ring and Discus Lariatooooo-ing Kirbys shiny napper off, before placing it gently back on his shoulders just in time for Mark to hit the Deathwish Forearm for the win. Brerrs will be brerrs as they (probably dont) say. Polo Promotions are your longest reigning ICW Tag Team Championsssss.
Fito and Kirby made their way towards the backstage area while doing some very distracting pointing in the direction of The Coffeys. While they were lulled in, Sha battered fuck out of both of them with the chair. Landing some particularly stiff shots on Joe that looked extremely sare. Not as sare as our hearts at once against seeing Joe Coffey in an ICW ring, without him wrestling in it. I dunno if him being left off shows is a way of building the feud with Red Lightning with a view to them having a wrestling match at some point, but all I know is I don’t like it. Joe for champ. Joe for aw the matches. Joe fuckin Coffey. All day. Polo and the rest of the squad came it swinging to stop the East Steel Chair massacre but the damage to the Iron Man and his granite brerr was done. Very Eastly.
DCT and Viper have their love flattened
DCT is a hopeless romancer don’t you know. He wanted to become the International Sex Husband, and wanted the fairest maiden of them all to make an honest tash out of him so he got down on one knee, and asked Viper to be his beloved. She blushed, as she looked down at the glistening haribo ring that stared back at her and looked like she was about to say yes to a lifetime of the OH-OH-OH, but someone had a protest to their love. Or maybe he had a protest to the fact that a proposal was on the show, and Joe Coffey didn’t have a wrestling match. Either way, Big Damo came out and flattened them both. Red Lightning wasn’t best pleased about that and tried to put the foot down, but for the first time in the night, his authoritah was not respected. Damo pushed him about, and pretty much threatened to dismember him, and with that Red Lightning lifted his suspension, and allowed him to join Billy Kirkwood on commentary for the rest of the night. Sean David relegated to the bench, and Damo taking centre stage at a show he was barred from. Being the ICW GM is certainly advantageous for Red Lighting, but theres nae amount of authority that cancels out being threatened by a flying bear.
Noam Dar vs Kenny Williams
Oh you dirty bastard. Big Damo flouts yer ban, and you take it out on the wee guys? Nae offence to Noam and Kenny like. They’ve both clearly been hitting the Fridge Raiders and Dairylea Dunkers hard, trying to get that natural bulk on the go, but they’re easy targets compared to Big Damo and Red Lighting done nothing but fuck with their emotions here. They strolled out for another match in what has been a cracking series between them, and Red Lighting initially seemed pleased to see them. Even giving them an added incentive in their match by saying that the winner would become the number one contender for the Zero-G Title. Brilliant eh! What a guy Red Lightning is. Let me sit back and enjoy this stoater of a match. What a beautiful carefree experience.
They got in amongst that mega speedy wrasslin they do early on, with Kenny going for the Quiff Buster early, only for Noam to reverse and go for a knee to the jaw, which Noam and dodged and waved a cheeky finger in Kennys direction. Not today Kenny san. Yer gonnae need to get up earlier in the morning to catch Noam with that so early. About 30 seconds in and the enjoyment levels are already off the scale. What a stunning slice of wrestling. Leglocks, takedowns, and putting his opponents shoe in his gub. All the classics fae Noam, as this one dipped back and forth in a most entertaining manner. I sure hope nothing comes along to ruin this enjoyment. QUIFF BUSTER OUTTA NAEPLACE FOR KENNY but Noam rolled to the ropes and immediately stuck his leg on the bottom one, which SHOULD have stopped the count, but Thomas Kearins didn’t see it, much like he didn’t see it when Kenny retained the title over Noam at the last Spacebaws show and Kenny deliberately stopped the pin. Sporting integrity shown and a rich bit of storytelling comes intae play as we remind the audience of one of the previous incidents in a match between the two. What a thrilling contest and rich tapestry of drama we have on the go here.
Kenny went for a flying forearm in the corner but Noam caught him and hung him baws first on the top rope, before coming off the middle rope with a lariat and sending Kenny outside to catch a suicide dive. The action was frantic, and the erections were stoic. The wideys were as wide as the Clyde. The wrestling was….on. Back in the ring, Kenny caught Noam with the jumping knee to the jaw, and Noam responded with the Fishermans Brainbuster. Putting it beyond any semblance of doubt that we were watching an excellent contest between two great professionals. One where any interruptions would be unwelcome. We delved into complete and utter hi-jinks when all 3 of the people in the ring took a toe to the baws. Tam Kearins included. The jovial japes continued when Kenny hoverboard because his worst enemy as he took the hoverboard+Noams knee to the jaw for a 2 count. The frenetic action continued as Kenny locked in a textbook figure four. So textbook that it was quite easily reversed because of how textbook it was. All Noam done was look in the aforementioned textbook, go the reversal section and there it wis. The advice he needed. “Turn him over, then grab yer lightsaber son” and grab it he did. Unfurling a lightsaber from the apron, and releasing the reversed figure four.
We had us a stand-off. Hoverboard vs Lightsaber. The Bollocks vs The Guy Wae The Lightsaber. Dar Wars vs A Guy Wae A Hoverboard. A clash of the titans. They collided with their weapons of choice and fired in to another exchange of the wrasslin. Forearm smashes for days from them both, before they both swept each other of their respective feet with a tandem rendition of endless love. Noam blocked two attempts at the clothesline from hill valley, and hit a beauty of a release German Suplex, but Kenny landed on his feet and a double clothesline had the two of them laid flat out. A wonderful contest nearing its natural conclusion. Nothing better in this pro wrestling thing is there? Sure hope there isn’t something on the horizon that might ruin this for us…….
He’s might not be a big English tank with a huge beard, but Red Lightning is indeed a bastard. He cancelled the match. That’s it. He came out, changed his mind, and told them both to fuck off. He also assured them that their respective attacks on security staff who tried to remove them would be sternly punished. Ordered whoever’s in charge of the music to not play any music, and said that because neither of them were worthy of being the number one contender for the Zero-G Title that there wasn’t much point in the match even finishing. Both Kenny and Noam approached Red to no avail as he stood on the stage, overseeing the devastation he had left in the ring by ending what he correctly described as “the best match ever”. Steamboat vs Savage was nothing but a slow dance between a couple of strawbs. Austin vs Hart from WM13 made use of gratuitous violence which detracted from the story, and HBK vs Taker was simply fuckin shite in comparison. Red Lightning is now the man responsible for stopping the best match wrestling has ever seen and that makes him the worst cunt in the world.
That fact happens to make him very fucking good at his job. Sickeningly so. As much as I enjoyed him being a bastard as a wrestler with a belt round his waste, the fact that this GM role means he can spread his bastardry (thats not a word, but fuck ye) throughout every portion of the show makes me think he might be even better at this than he was at being the ICW Champion. Either way, I fuckin hate the cunt, and if you dont, there’s probably something wrong with you.
Drew Galloway vs Mikey Whiplash (ICW World Title Match)
It really doesn’t matter a fuck what you think of Drew, or how many middle fingers get tossed up in his coupon. Drew Galloway vs Mikey Whiplash for the ICW Title was an early Christmas present that the whole family could enjoy (if ICW let under 18s intae their shows, which they do not, apart from for a ONE OFF SHOW to celebrate the re-opening of The Clutha, coming soon) so fuck yer negativity. Fuck yer Drew hatred, and more importantly than any of that…FUCK TNA….FUCK TNA….FUCK TNA….ach I’m just kidding guys. Its good tae have a wee joke every now and then, but if we can be serious for a moment here. The match was a blinder, and the words below will attempt to convey that in an effective manner, so that you…the reader, will be able to gain an understanding of the events which took place. The sights, the smells, the cunts flying through tables n shit. Aw ae it.
They tied up a few times early on, both getting a wee shot at winning, and curtseying at each other in a bizarre show of….something. I dunno…respect maybe? A series of headlock takedowns, armdrags and other such slick, effortless moves were strung together as this piece of wrasslin gorgeousness got going. Question Drews loyalty if ye want. Even questions his half Scottish, half American, half wanky surfer dude (aye thats three haufs, n whit?) accent, but he is undoubtedly very good at professional wrestling. They rolled each other up a hunner times to no avail, before Drew caught Whiplash with a slap to the jaw. A wee hint of the villain about Drew in this match, with the Glesga crowd not receiving their champion with the same amount of warmth as they once did. The Tea’s went cauld and the biscuits are oota date for oor Drew. He’s been back for near enough a year now and the novelty of seeing that big guy we used to see on the tele has wore off. Now he’s the guy that keeps all their favourites away from the big belt. Joe Coffeys Ultrons left The Barras disappointed. The NAK 4lifers left the Square Go demoralised when Renfrew came up short, and now Whiplash loyal at The Garage, who were largely in favour of a man from Stoke over a Scottish hero, were about to leave The Garage wae their bottom lips trembling. Maybe we were seeing the beginnings of a wee heel turn from the big guy wae the shiny belt.
They ambled around the crowd for a while, but Drew wisnae grabbing pints aff folk and tanning them or any of that carry on. This was business Drew. Mikey Whiplash is in the same business right enough, and he also wrestled on Smackdown one time, so who’s the real superstar eh? It matters little, what matters is that we made our way back to the ring. If The Garage was on an episode of MTV Cribs, the ring where be “where the magic happens” Galloway planted Whiplash on the apron with a tilt-o-whirl slam, before going rummaging under the ring for some hardware. A table was set up between the barrier and ring, and if I was a betting man, I’d say it was Whiplash going through it. Ye’ve got tae play the odds, and generally when Mikey Whiplash is involved, and dangerous looking shit happens in the vicinity of a wrestling ring, particularly at the barriers…its Whiplash on the sharp end of it. Drew had a wee look at the table and looked like he’d stared his certain death straight in its wooden face. Up the ropes he went though, because he’s got a fuckin deathwish tae it seems. They jostled for position on the ropes, before both of them found themselves hanging by the testes and chopping fuck out each other. Anything to avoid going through that table eh. When having yer baws forcible rope burned is the preferable option, you know the thing you’re trying to avoid is going to be sare as fuck.
They kept on battling whilst trying to ease each other towards the table, but easing each other isnae cutting it here guys. One of ye has to seize the moment, and by “seize the moment” I of mean “chuck the other cunt through a table” Drew hung Mikey Whiplash on the top rope and hit him with a big boot to the midsection, but Whiplash hit back with a picture picture perfect blue thunder bomb for a near fall. That thunderous single leg dropkick Drew does was next on the agenda for another two count, while a table dwelled precariously. In the background. Imposing as fuck without making a single sound. A wooden slab of death, waiting for its moment to shine. They tumbled back out to the apron, where Whiplash confirmed his fate by going up top. Anyone who goes up top when theres a table set up so close is going through that fucking table. Games a bogey. Up he went, and Drew rose to his feet, grabbing Whiplash from the top rope and tossing him skeleton first through the table. Deid. He has to be deid. He’d fuckin deid. Bah fuckin god. He killed him.
Drew allowed Whiplash a wee minute to check he wasn’t clinically dead (statistically proven to be the most effective form of death) before rolling him into the ring for a certain pin. A certain pin on any other human maybe, but when yer in there with a guy who makes a habit of having fights with metal barriers. He got the shoulder up and Drew went daft. Throwing rapid jabs and looking salty as he laid in wait in the corner for Whiplash to make it to his feet. He got as far as his knees, before aiming a double middle fingered salute at Drew. His parting shot as he took a single leg dropkick to the jaw followed by the Futureshock DDT. Drew retains.
From the beauty of that match, to the Beast who provides Drews next challenge in ICW. In Damo’s eyes Drews been ducking him. Responding to none of the social media patter aimed in his direction, and barely putting up a fight when Damo has challenged him in person, so of course they had a melee. Nae feud for a title has really started until there’s been a melee where hunners of security folk get a doing, in the process. They stood toe to toe and leathered each other with forearms, but neither man would yield, and there was only one thing that was going to give either one the upper hand. Or the lower foot to be more accurate, cause Damo kicked Drew square in the baws. Leaving a broken table, a broken champion and a broken set of baws in his wake. The bear has got a taste for Scottish blood, and a nose for the gold. For once, Drew has an opponent who’s a physical match for him, and Damo has already proven he’s willing to kick folk in the baws and deny true love in the name of winning this belt. Might be best if ye just surrender Drew ma man. There’s nae shame in running from a flying bear.
Overall the wrestling did indeed happen. It was a wild show. Stevie and Kay Lee turning. Top quality title match, and a perhaps slightly surprisingly brilliant match between BT Gunn and Grado. He might be shite at daein interviews, but the boy Grado doesn’t get the credit he deserves sometimes when it comes to wrestling. Overall I enjoyed the show, and I also enjoyed celebrating the fact that my pal isnae gonnae die of cancer anytime soon. Very EAST! indeed. That kid Joe Coffey looks no bad though. Hopefully get to see him do some wrestling again in ICW sometime soon.