The Barrowlands is a different sort of experience to any other venue that ICW run. The feeling when you enter it is almost an eerie, nervous feeling. This isnae just any auld building that you’d ordinarily go to on a Friday night looking for a dirty to ply with Blue WKDs and hopefully fingerblast, this place has a weight of history attached to it. What happens at The Barrowlands matters. The special feeling when you enter its pre-historic bogs, that this room literally filled with pish has been the venue for some epic pishes in Scottish live entertainment history over the years. A hall of fame pish-house ye could call it. The feeling when you enter the hall that this hall hasn’t just been the place where the latest popular indie bands have had a wee shot of, this is a place where legends are born and moments fuckin matter, and on the night of the 2016 Square Go, ICW added a few more breath-taking moments to its history.
When Drew defended his ICW Title against Chris Renfrew at this event a year earlier, the heat between the two combatants was nuclear. I interviewed them both before it and my site actually melted. Once a website has melted, theres nae unmelting it mate. I’ve been using a melted site for over a year. Its very difficult to type into a melted window but we persevere. Compare that heat to Grado vs Renfrew? its fuck all. Everyone had picked a side. Everyone went in to it knowing who they wanted to win. Even if they happened to like both wrestlers. The ONLY way that kind of atmosphere is created is if people gie a fuck. That deep sense of gien-a-fuckness filtered down throughout the whole show. Starting with a bad motherfucker gettin his bollocks booted by “the baws” Kenny Williams. Or eh…something like that. What is a bad motherfucker btw? Is that somedy who’s bad at shaggin folks maws? That’s no something I’d be shouting about if I was you mate, but each tae their own.
Lionheart vs Kenny Williams (Loser is not in the Square Go, Winner is 30th entrant)
Lionheart gets more stick from the ICW crowd than anyone these days. To give him his due, and borrow a Mowbray-ism, he takes it on the chin so he does. Being openly known as a “mercenary” is basically uni speak for “untrustworthy wank who’d probably steal yer gameboy if ye left it unattended in the common room” and its an unenviable position but he pulls it off with minimal fuss. What folk sometimes fail to remember is that the reason he had such an elevated position within British Wrestling in the first place is that he can fuckin go. At his best there’s a fluidity about his work that few can match. One of the folk who can match it is Kenny Williams, so when the match kicked off with a series of reversals and blocks on Lionhearts offence before both men sprung to their feet, there was an undeniable mutual respect between them in that moment. Absolutely hummin of it so they were. Like when you and your burd have a right good mutual respect session, and re-enter the room to find it reekin of that mutual respect. Mutual respect does not get you the number 30 spot in the Square Go though. It gets ye a sweaty handshake after you’ve just ate the pin. That’s what it gets ye. I love Kenny and that, but he got sucked in a belter by Hearto’s wrestling skills. Making him feel like they were having a good old fashioned “may the best man win” type of contest, when really the “Bad Motherfucker” had conniving to do, and fuck all was stopping him.
It was the tale of two dives as Kenny missed the mark with his first attempt, landing tits first on the entrance ramp with the sarest of dunts, before Lionheart offered his arse up to a fan only to see a suicide dive from Kenny knock him off the barrier, landing heid first somewhere in the vicinity of the fan he was just offering his arse to. Sods law innit big yin, offering your arse to someone before having an entirely different person hand your arse directly to you. No matter how much adversity faced Hearto, his lack of a moral code meant he was always winning this. Unless Kenny came armed wae a shotgun full of superkicks to the throat, it was never going his way. He continued to throw everything at the big bastard right enough, a beautiful sequence of forearms, knees and Liam’s degrees was ended with Lionheart hitting the Rock Bottom, before Kenny clattered his jaw with a superkick and launched himself towards him in a suicide dive turned into a tornado ddt on the very same ramp Kenny landed tits first on earlier. Think I’m exaggerating when i say tits first? Check it.
Kenny launched himself back in to the ring with a springboard suhin, only for Lionheart to catch him mid-air with a superkick that was worthy of ending the contest. In fact, it would have been a nice wee civilised finish to what had been an excellent contest, but Lionheart couldn’t just persevere with the fair and square (go…) method could he? Kenny kicked out, and reversed the Rock Bottom into a victory roll, only for Hearto to reverse it and grab a fistful of Kennys jeans to roll him up for a sleekit three count. Bastard.
Fuckin Lionheart man. Folk in The Classic Grand shed real tears for him when he “retired” back in the day and he’s still here 3 years later crushing the dreams of time travelling dropkick enthusiasts. Haudin the tights, leaving Kenny sippin the shites. Would there be revenge? Would Kenny just jump in the delorean and tell Thomas Kearins before the match that Lionheart would try that sleekit shit and he should look out of it? Either way, a veteran who was once considered the undisputed best in Scotland was heading to the Square Go as entrant Number 30. A dangerous prospect. While The Bollocks sits on the sidelines. Never take yer eye off the ball against a cunt who feigned a second neck break just to beat ye and end his losing streak. Anyone capable of that kind of outright heinous shit, is capable of holding on to the tights.
The 55 (Sha Samuels and Kid Fite) vs Polo Promotions (ICW Tag Title Match)
ICW stumbled upon the perfect tag team feud with these two. Wee bit of a shame that it probably ended here after what was in my view the best match between the two teams to date, but its certainly there to be re-visited if need be. Still no sure how much I like Jackie and Mark partaking in this dancing malarkey though. It goes against everything we’ve come to know them to be, but also makes them the perfect opponents for a couple of baw bootin hooligans so it does work. I’m just not that into it. My personal preference would be them quietly resenting us all (or in Jackie Polo’s case, loudly and proudly having fuck all but contempt for us) but them being more accessible made is easier for folk to get behind them. The support they had for so long, made the moment Sha and Fito ended their reign more memorable because it mattered to so many people. It takes excellent heroes to evoke the sort of heartbroken reaction that followed them dropping the belts, but even better villains to take that disappointment and turn it into a sick feeling that goes fae yer toes tae yer nose.
Polo Promotions started strong, and the deep armdrag action from both Jackie and Mark was slick. I’m no sure how a deep armdrag differs from a normal one, I assume its to do with its delivery, but maybe its just a more meaningful armdrag eh? Like if an armdrag and a poem made sweet sweet love, the wean they would have would be a deep armdrag. They even found time for a wee dance, and thats just not something you’d see fae them back in the glory days of genuinely feeling like you were about to be stabbed for chanting “POLO PROMOTIONS!” in Liverpool, right after Jackie’s dropped a Hillsborough reference. Stay on the opponents and get they belts back. Poppin eh marx can happen AFTER, when there’s a pair of shiny belts to be showing them.
Fito and Sha got to work on Polo’s bad leg, isolating him by dragging him to their corner, and isolating the bad leg by pulling it clean off and knocking fuck out of it while the rest of Jackies body bled out. The 55 continued to hammer away at the knee, before Jackie hit a big back bodydrop and got the hot tag for THE RAGIN’ GAJIN, Mark Coffey. He unleashed his usual brand of strong style dunts, bookended with that beautiful deadlift bridgin back suplex for a 2 count. Another rare miss-step gave the champions the upper hand when Mark Coffey went TO THE TOP ROPE and saw his crossbody attempt sidestepped. Mon tae fuck big man, thats not your domain. Centre of gravity mate. Its all about the centre of that ring. 413 days as champions and I don’t recall seeing Mark Coffey go up the top rope once, but in the reckless pursuit of regaining they belts up he went, and quickly down he went. Chin first to the canvas. Advantage Hooligans.
Trying not to list a million moves in these things anymore, but theres always room for a wee bit of appreciation for Kid Fite’s snap suplex. If there’s a better snap suplex in pro wrestling today, show me it. I’m serious like, wherever you might see this review, put a link to a better snap suplex in the comments and I shall evaluate it in due course. They kept Coffey isolated, while Fito spat on pretty much everyone, only for the Ragin Gajin to live up to the name that he’s had for over 2 paragraphs. He was not taking it anymore. Face was redder than Sir Alex Ferguson’s beak as he hulked up and got to smashin. Him and Fito exchanged thunerdous forearms, before Fito spat directly in Coffeys left eye, only for the Ragin Gajin’ (that too many noo aye? I’ll stop, honest) to scud him with a big bastardin penalty kick to the ribs. Game on. Hot tag for Jackie and in he came unleashin mad chops and scoops. A picture perfect Northern Lights suplex proved Jackies knee maybe wasn’t as gammy as it seen, but for the love of fuck. Stop going up top. Anything that’s causing all your weight to land on that knee is bad, even if its an offensive move. He eventually hit an elbow drop off the top, but the damage done to the knee couple with not getting the three made it a vital moment. An error in judgement. One thing I will ask when it comes to the finish…where wis DCT? Was this some ruling of Red Lightnings I’m no aware of? because when Mark Coffey took Sha outside and found himself baw deep in the audience after Timm Wylie blindsided him with a clothesline, he really could have used some moustachioed hauners.
Instead he was taken clean out the equation and Kid Fite took a chair to Polo’s knee before locking in the most demonic single legged boston crab in wrestling history. Doing that move on an injured leg, while Sha Samuels is right in the opponents face basically ordering him to tap? ooft. Thats callous so it is. Exactly what The 55 have needed to be since they were formed. Polo refused to tap, but while on the verge of passing out, Coach Trip chucked the towel in. 55 retain.
There the thing I didn’t get, after another chairshot to the knee, DCT finally emerged to swing that mallet aboot and clear the bad yins out, but where was he when the match ended? Was it a “if he gets involved in the match, he’s not in the Square Go” situation or was he just in the back watching old episodes of The Price Is Right and taking moustache notes from the god of tash, yer man Bruce Forsyth? I think no matter what side you favoured here, James R.Kennedy getting his cunt kicked in afterwards pleased everyone. Sha and Fito pretty much left him to it, while Timm Wyle half heartedly made attempts to save him, but he took a scoop slam and a beauty of a piledriver from The Ragin’ Gajin Mark Coffey and Polo slapped him about a bit as well. A wee message for big Bram. DCT hasn’t forgotten. You piledrivered his missus so hard she wound up in the middle of Toyko, and he’s gonnae make sure 2006 is a year you’ll want to forget. First your manager gets a piledriver, who’s next? Yer granny? Yer dug? Anyone you know and love, nail them to the wall or they’re gettin piledrove tae fuck.
Carmel Jacob vs Liam Thomson
Liam fuckin Thomson man. Ever since he cut the infamous “I’ve got mare degrees than Carmels goat dungarees” promo (it was something like that eh?) he’s been the most hilarious cunt in ICW. Suck my arse is the greatest put down of all time and I don’t even care how it would look to anyone who doesn’t get the context. If he brought it out on a t-shirt, I’d buy it and wear it proudly. Each and every person in the land can suck ma arse. Proper enjoyed the story they told here, its not easy to be in a wrestling match with your real life missus and not just look like a guy battering his burd, but when your burd has made a career out of being vicious on the mic and in that ring, it seems like more of a fair fight. Like that time last year I saw a guy end a domestic with his burd by getting his heid kicked in up and down sauchiehall street. Gender really didn’t come in to it. He got a kicking fair and square. Early on it was Liam doing the kicking right enough. maniacally chuckling away as he dragged Carmel to the entrance, before planting his “ex” with a scoop slam on the cold hard ground. Nae need mate.
He continued the assault only to drag Carmel back to that spot (nae idea why he moved her back in the first place, but I imagine if I ask I’d be given a straw and directed to the cunts arse, so I’ll no bother) only for Carmel to hit a scoop slam of her own. She was stopped in her tracks when Liam dropped her throat first on to the barrier, and he set up a table just outside the ring for what would be a scary bump no matter what. In the ring there was an extra fluency about them, Carmel hitting a tornado ddt and sniffing the blood of a tiny maggot (all maggots are tiny, please stop chanting that, there are no big maggots, of a maggot was to eat a hunner other maggots it wouldnt get huge, it would die. Thats how maggots work. They dont get stretch marks and need to go up a trouser size, they just die…I think…I’m no intae science or that, words is what I do…what were we even talking about here? wrestling and that. Wheeeeeeen a maaaaaaaaaan, loves a wooooooman….he batters her at the Square Go….tries to put her through a table…if he caaaaaan) big Liam hit the Backcracker out of nowhere and Carmel cleverly rolled out. Naecunt kicks out the backcracker, apart from the folk who have kicked out of it, but still, its a sweet finishing move. I like it a lot. It proper does what it says on the tin. Cracks backs and causes the retraction of the opponents sack. This opponent had nae sack though. I assume he knows this for a fact, but most of the stuff he knows would have vanished when Carmel hit that suspended ddt from the top rope. That might have been it, but theres still the table. Nae way this was ending without someone picking splinters out their arse.
It was him. Of course it was. If one of them was putting the other through that table, it was always going to be Liam inflicting the damage on Carmel. Cause he’s a bastard. He’s done fuck all but lie, cheat and maim throughout the feud and got the upper hand by begging Carmel for mercy, only to knee her in the breadbasket, place her on that apron and dropkick her right through that fuckin table. This isnae yer WWE style Styrofoam table either, this made an emphatic crunching noise, like all of the bones in her upper body broke at the same time as the table. He wasn’t done yet. Powerbomb got a 2 count and a sharpshooter for about an hour nearly broke the poor lassie, up she got, and he got leathered with a chair to the temple out of nowhere. Sit doon. Suck yer ain arse if its logistically possible, cause, and I hate to make this into something childish, but…YOU GOT BEAT BY A GIRLLLLLLLL. Not just any girl. The ICW Womens ‘fuckin Champion and a burd you should know better than to leave near a steel chair. She will pan your melt in with it and pin you for the uno, dos, tres.
Thats one, two three in Spanish btw. Speakmare Languages.
Grado vs Chris Renfrew (ICW Title Match)
This is what wrestling was made for. Something that makes people wake up in the morning with a sickness deep down in the pit of their stomach because a match means that much. A sport with pre-determined outcomes has absolutely no right to do this to rational human beings, but pro wrestling is no ordinary sport and 99.999999% of the folk who follow it are not rational human beings, cause fuck being rational. Fuck it right in the fuckin face. Pro wrestling dances along the line between fiction and non-fiction and creates a world where every action matters.
When Renfrew got on the mic at The Garage and let loose on Grado, FSMs “TNA Star” headline, and anyone who’s ever suggested they made ICW as opposed to the other way about, a lot of those words were designed to get the reaction they got from not only Grado himself but Renfrews own fans. For me, there’s no one better at manipulating things like social media and building a match based on that heat and thats one of the key reasons Renfrew became someone I admired in ICW. Renfrew fuckin knew that if he went at Grado and questioned his loyalty, his fans would follow, and those fans would give Grado all sorts of abuse, something he knows Grado fuckin hates. Thats his kryptonite so it is. He hates the criticism because I think deep down he’s worried that one day this will all evaporate. That him being in this elevated position was pure dumb luck, and for me thats what makes Grado special anaw. He sometimes struggles to see how good he is at this wrestling shit, and no matter how little regard you have for the comedy and all that, if it makes people happy and gets them buying a ticket. It works. Its wrestling, because it makes people get up aff their fuckin arses and go to a wrestling show, but if you regard Grado as nothing but comic relief, I’m sorry, but fuck up and fuck off. In 3 years of going to shows in Scotland I’ve watched him go from limited but entertaining in the ring, to one of the finest storytellers in the country. In case you were wondering, my arse was planted firmly on the fence before this and theres nae apologies for that. Both men in very different ways were big reasons for Pro Wrestling becoming an all consuming thing for me again after years of casual indifference towards it, and as much as Renfrew deserves that belt, and has got better and better after his year long pursuit of it ended at the hands of Drew Galloway at the 2015 Square Go, Grado is my fuckin guy man. I have never once not felt a wee swelling burst of excitement when Like A Prayer hits and I don’t even fuckin like Madonna, so I’m definitely not popping for 80s pop. I’m popping for GRADO-FUCKIN-MANIA. And…well fuck…I cannae.
The video package played before the match was simply outstanding. Meshing their vitriolic promo’s together, and making it seem like they were duelling. Whilst Grado’s promo only existed because Renfrew brought it out of him, there’s still nae doubt that he matched the passion and intensity that Renfrew delivered, and thats what lit this match on fire. Honestly think I’m gonnae keep typing until I’ve mentally prepared myself to re-watch this. Its too fuckin much.
This match was too big not to pick a side though. Fuck journalism, fuck being there to cover it, that heid can go on when I write the FSM report. A side needed picked, and I knew as soon as his music hit and the triangle heided dude and deid nurse emerged (sorry, never played Silent Hill and don’t fully get the references, am I not allowed to like the NAK anymore?) and I chucked up the N that I was team Renfrew. There was nae other choice, I mind travelling to those first ICW shows down south, and always having that feeling. That feeling that Renfrew might cash-in. Every show. Then Drew came back and Alpha Male’d it tae fuck. Taking that belt and everyones wife in the process, but when Renfrew took the briefcase back from Divers, it was there again. That feeling. A journey that was incomplete. Grado winning the ICW title was a beautiful moment, and he came out wearing the vest of my fuckin all time hero! Still team Renfrew. Wrestling does this. It makes you attached. It makes you feel part of the journey. Know when Renfrew’s journey started? After he was papped out the 2014 Square Go and he jumped back in to eliminate Grado and win it. Full fuckin circle.
Bunkhouse Grado came crashing into The Barras. Coming out to a mad Jazzy version of 99 Problems, and checking “without his entrance music he’d be shite” off the big list of Grado misconceptions folk tend to repeat over and over again. Renfrew knew the only time this version of Grado has been seen before was when a maniacal Mikey Whiplash was his opponent and if he was treating this match with the same degree of seriousness as that…well fuck. Oh aye, and yer man was wearing TRUNKS and looked as lean as I’ve ever seen him, so go ahead and check (to quote Red Lightning) “hes a fat disaster” aff yer big list of misconceptions as well. Before I even talk about the match, get “cannae wrestle” to fuck anaw. If there’s a more emotionally draining match in 2016, I’ll be dying to see it cause it’ll have to be a fuckin masterpiece. Grado can go.
They started by knocking fuck out each other and really, you could describe it as just that and it would be accurate. An all consuming, mutual cunt kicking. Both men took a back bodydrop each on the ramp before Renfrew cleaned Grado out with that big fuck off lariat. Even at this point it was near fever pitch. Shake, rattle and STONE COLD STONER. Grado took too long to add the roll and got stunnered tae fuck, but it wasn’t time yet. Fuck they were barely getting warming up. Grado hit a splash off the top, and in case you’re wondering if you read that correctly. Ye actually did. It happened. A pair of roll and slices after that had Grado firmly in control. In the wee trunks, bronzed tae fuck, lookin like Stevenstons ain Randy Orton, but the third attempt was….aye. Ill advised, and led to a sickening one handed kendo stick shot to the napper that broke the fuckin thing in two. Night night.
Even a Kendo Stick burst doon the middle will do severe damage to a skull and a few more hits caused the blood to trickle down his face. Bunkhouse Grado’s no feart of a bit of colour though. Hitting the R-Gra-Do outta naeplace, followed by the wee boot for a pair of near falls. If that’s not putting Renfrew down, then what is? Ye better have stanley blades taped to a baseball bat in they trunks, or there might be nae beating this cunt. Unless that bumbag….Grado…..whits in the bumbag mate? It better no be they Maom Pinball things, as delicious as they are, its no the fuckin time. He gleefully revealed the bumbag to be utterly rammed with thumbtacks and well, if all that stuff wisnae beatin Renfrew, surely thumbtacks BEING EMBEDDED IN THE BACK OF HIS SKULL would do it thanks to a Rock Bottom on top of them, but naw. He kicked out. I repeat…ACTUAL REAL THUMBTACKS ALL THE WAY INTO HIS SKULL. That’s where yer brain lives mate, and well that’s just…..that’s just dangerous so it is. I imagine a thumbtack in yer brain is not going to do it much good. When Thomas Kearins pulled it out a wee gush of blood followed it, and it was as horrifying as it sounds. He punctured his brain for your entertainment. The thumbtack must have got stuck in the part that realises pain is a real thing, cause he got up and hit the stoner and then the t-virus on the tacks. The t-virus is a double underhook piledriver and that on top of tacks probably hurts a lot and definitely knocked out a couple of fillings. Grado made people greet when he kicked out. If you can do that just by not getting pinned then you’re doing wrestling right. Fuck it. If wrestling moves aren’t pinning him, do them on top of barbed wire boards. That should kill pretty much anyone. But when the board got propped up in the corner Grado countered every attempt to put him near it and release German Suplexed Renfrew right through the middle of it. It sliced his back like it was made fae teeth pulled out of a sabre-tooth tiger’s gub, but blood coating his back and thumbtack or 5 in his upper body, Renfrew was not staying down for 3 either. Any claim that Grado took less risks is daft anaw, he literally dived on to a barbed wire board when he hit the roll and slice after it and got absolutely rag dolled with a cane. The finish was fucking perfect anaw btw. Watch it as fuck. Get On Demand, or steal the memory of someone who was there. Just see it.
They knocked fuck out each other again. That’s what it was always gonnae come down to. There’s many ways you can knock fuck out of someone in a wrestling match, but it’ll usually come down to folk just wailing on each other until one cant go on. Blood all over both of them, they hammered each other with jabs and forearms, before Grado sent Renfrew to the ropes with the wee boot, only for Renfrew to hit the stoner and stun 1,600 people with the win.
It was everything a big time title match should be. It had moments where both seemingly had it won. It had painstaking violence. Two wrestlers who valued putting on a show and making the prize on offer seem like the most important thing on the planet. After Renfrew was handed the belt the out-pour of emotion was as real as it gets. He realised this dream by transforming his character and connecting with the audience while still being a right nasty bastard. That breeds a rare type of fan. Most of them as aff their nut as they are loyal, and the reaction amongst the fans around the ring was as pure as it gets in wrestling. There was no contrived over-thought finish where the whole NAK decapitated Grado. They just had a really fucking incredible match, and one guy won it fair and square. Grado will be back. There’s nae fuckin doubt about that, but him not having a long reign makes sense because the underdog cant always win. That match should put to bed any suggestion that he isn’t deserving of his spot in Scottish Wrestling though, and he carried that belt like a guy who was never complete without it and he’ll be expecting to carry it again one day, but right now its Renfrews time. He celebrated with his NAK brothers, and with the most loyal of his fans. It was hard not to feel the dejection on Grado’s face. It was real. Being the ICW Champion is probably fuckin magic and it would have been hard to see it slip away but it was Renfrews moment. Your new ICW World Heavyweight Champion.
The 2016 Square Go Match
Joe Coffey is either extremely brave or certifiably aff his fuckin nut to volunteer to enter first in a match that boasts no fewer than….a lot, of really talented wrestlers. He was even coming in not at 100% with an injury, and when Big Damo’s music hit for the number two entrant he must have been thinking it was maybe a bit of a hasty move. He looked right up for the challenge of finding out if it was daft to volunteer for an hour long kicking right enough, but Red Lightning is a bastard. Red Lightning does not give a fuck what you want. If the story dictates that he has control, he was use that control in creative ways to fuck with us all. He prevented Big Damo from entering the Square Go, insisting that it was all a clerical error, and he was never really meant to be in the Square Go and that’s a crime. That’s no right. Unless Damo actually barbeques Red Lightning and eats him on a baguette there is no response to this that matches the damage Red done. Here’s Damo finally presented with a fair shot at earning a title rematch and you snatch it away. Making him assault innocent security guards, referees and bystanders as he tries to barrel his way to the ring anyway. Damo eventually retreated with the threat of being fired but how fucking dare he deprive us of Damo. I will walk out this venue right now. Tellin ye. Joe Coffey got on the mic and eased my fears, insisting Red was gettin his heid lariat’ed aff when he did eventually enter the Square Go and Red told him hilariously that he would enter The Square Go when he was ready, but he still stopped Damo entering the match so the hilariousness of his delivery means absolutely nothing here. Even if it was really fuckin hilarious. Anyway, the real number 2 entrant was Lewis Girvan. He’s the understudy of Drew Galloway, which is apparently a word that means “smaller version” but he is very good and of course the current Catchweight Champion. Never mind that the belt has a big G on it. That’s none of yer business.
Joe offered Lewis a handshake, before wiping his baws with the hand instead and off it went. There was nae eliminations early on but plenty of entertaining things that happened. The first of which was Trent Seven entering the ring really slowly and pretty much pretending to be dead, before finally getting kicked in the guts by Girvan. I say this with slight reluctance cause I’m fuckin sick of being surrounded by lassies drooling over him when he’s on shows, but he is an extremely entertaining handsome bastard. He spent time hiding underneath the ring apron for a wee nap, tanning a beer while telling the camera to look away and at one point when he was sitting on his arse he reached out to find Lewis Girvan near him and chopped him in the tits from a sitting position. Andrew Wilde appeared next and partook in flinging Girvan about a bit before the Lucha section of the Square Go came and went. Solar entering first and daftly going after Joe Coffey only for him to get flung about excitedly, then he found his long lost twin brother in GPWA trainee Soldato, and they jumped about flying into folk together for a bit and looked like a cohesive unit. Maybe a wee lucha tag team in the making who’ll be able to sell big clothelines by doing a hunner backflips. They were unfortunately victims to big Dave Mastiff. Who stormed in and German Suplexed everything with a pulse. Within 20 feet of him. Tossing Solar and Soldato out and wailing on his auld pal Trent Seven. Entertaining as fuck so far, then came the big Italian.
That sounds like some weird fairytale eh. Here comes the big Italian to blow yer hoose doon and knock yer favourite wrestler out the Square Go. I’ve said this a million times, but just to be clear, big man can fuckin go. Its my opinion that he can do great wrestling effortlessly. The fans kept singing his entrance tune even after it cut off and it was quite beautiful. The ICW fans do know talent when they see it, and the big yin is legit. Fuck sake, he stared down Dave Mastiff and not only did he not look feart, he actually towered over him. They leathered each other culminating in Massimo knocking Mastiff down with a big boot like he was an empty vendy (that would still be quite heavy like, but less so than a vendy full of juice or crisps for example) before their attention turned to the next entrant. The colossus known as Lou King Sharp. I love Lou King Sharp, but he’s a fuckin dafty sometimes. Tapped Mastiff and Massimo on the shoulder and basically asked them both to knock his pan in. Then Joe Coffey tossed him out and that was a ballsy move so it was. The intention must have been for him to be caught and put back in as that’s how it went down, but imagine trying that with someone that isnae a loveable wee scamp? There’s a fair chance he’d be going jaw first to the Barrowlands hardwood floors, but he was safely eased back into the ring in time to see a human weapon. The Barrowlands has probably seen more than its fair share of weapons, but when Sebastian of The Gzrs entered and his tag team partner Tom Irvin WAS his weapon, this is probably the first instance of someone accepting that title willingly. Their foray into the Square Go included Sebastian literally using Tom as a weapon before they actually done some real wrestling stuff (mad corkscrew senton thing from Sebastian, v.nice indeed) only for Jimmy Havoc to come in and end their beautiful but brief Square Go debut. Oh aye. Jimmy Havoc’s in now. So that means people probably die.
Divers and Lou King Sharp were the next two victims. Although only Sharp was actually tossed out by Jimmy Havoc. Divers decided leaning over the ropes and taunting him was a good idea after that and Trent Seven continued to remind everyone why he is the most cheeky, sleekit entrant in Square Go history by gently nudging him out. Joe Hendry entered next to “We Want Hendry” to the tune of “We Will Rock You” and maybe he had it in him eh? The crowd would certainly love it and I’m sure The Square Go victory celebration song would be a sweet ditty, that makes the burd’s shake their….nuhin. Thats not proper. I apologise Joe. He quickly tossed Andy Wild out, before another one of the favourites emerged to fuck shit up. Former ICW Champion and 2013 Square Go winner….Mikey Whiplash. He quickly got Mastiff out by pulling the top rope down on him, before exerting a less simple, more homicidal means of eliminating Trent Seven by suplexing him from inside the ring, over the top rope, and on to the entrance ramp. Same spot as they done in Trents ICW debut, except this had “oot the square go” added to the list of consequences from it, alongside “really fuckin sare” . Somewhere in amongst all of this Scotty Swift made his ICW debut and looked energetic as fuck. Probably because his heid was definitely on fire. He lasted a wee bit before being tossed as the first NAK member entered. The “Warboy” Stevie. Stevie fuckin boay. The darkhorse. Especially he was to last long enough to join his NAK comrades and form an alliance or they could even link arms and sit in the middle of the ring if they wanted, cause how are you supposed to eliminate that? Exactly. Doug Williams of The 55 entered next and immediately got in amongst it with Jimmy Havoc. Probably ill advised but listen, Doug Williams is the elder statesman of British Wrestling and know whit he’s doing. If he wants to rile a psychopath possibly carrying a blade, that’s his business. The Wee Man entered and wisely took his sweet time getting in the ring before Davey Boy arrived to stick Wee Man in his back pocket, basically using him as a decoy puncher for when he ran out of punching juice. The Wee Man did hit a peoples elbow on Stevie and Stevie sold it like a champ even if it was probably akin to a squad a flies jumping on a single quaver, and that quaver landing gently on Stevie’s chest.
Wolfgang emerged to provide timely hauners for Stevie and with Damo no longer in the equation at all, the big yin had to be the favourite. Immediately eliminated big Massimo who was hugely impressive throughout. My favourite elimination of the night so it was, quite majestic seeing the big man pap Massimo out with a missile dropkick and a fantastic exhibition of his increased athleticism these days. Look at him man. He’s a fuckin tank. Half muscle, half hustle. Joe Hendry was next to fall as the Wolfman took charge. Lewis Girvan’s stint was brought to an end as Wolfy took him up for the Razors Edge and chucked him into the crowd. Wee Man was next out at the hands of Stevie as the non contenders started to fall. A couple of the favourites went soon after, as Jimmy Havoc managed to fight off the attack of a couple of masked dudes, before eliminating both himseld and Mikey Whiplash with the rainmaker clothesline on the apron. Fuck only know how many folk have been and went by now. Michael Chase came in though, and he is certainly…eh…big. A big huge guy. They always dae well in Rumbles right? Except for when they don’t. Timm Wylie entered with the lead pipe as his chosen weapon, seemingly unaware of the phallic undertones that came with carrying about a pipe and and swinging it at folk, but his stint was shorter Godfathers Ho’s Hardcore Title reign as Joe Coffey immediately papped him out. Here I fuckin forgot to mention DCT entering and scoop slamming everyone and their maw, but it was when BT Gunn entered that the landscape changed. BT Gunn on his own is a favourite to win, and quickly showed his credentials but making short work of Michael Chase, but BT Gunn aligned with Stevie and Wolfgang? One of them is walking out with the briefcase. Unless they somehow all turn on each other at the same time, or the rest of the folk left in the match combine to form like voltron and create a wall of wrestler capable of papping the three of them out, a member of the NAK was walking out with the briefcase. BT and Stevie did get swung about by Joe Coffey a bit before another contender/ horrible bastard entered the fray. Jack fuckin Jester.
I’ve deliberately not mentioned the COMPLETE INJUSTICE that took place when Noam Dar’s number was called, only for Red and Jester to stomp all over his perfect heid and inform him that while there was no clerical error this time, they simply didn’t WANT him in The Square Go. I left it out until this point cause for fuck sake. Not Noam. You already took Damo out and now Noam fuckin Dar. I’m no a Jester fan at the best of times, but being party to Noam no being involved in this match made him public enemy number one and when the NAK stepped aside to let him batter fuck outta DCT with that chainmail dildo I was slightly disappointed in the Kliq. Keeping Jester in was probably in their best interests at that time, but don’t just stand there and let him batter DCT. That’s not classy. DCT took a dildo shot to the stomach for what was probably not the first time before being tossed out like the blue bin on a Tuesday night (Wednesday’s bin day ye see….wait…..naecunt’s gonnae get that joke unless Wednesday is also their bin day are they? aw shite) Red Lightning quickly followed Jester and for a wee while there was an odd Black Label/NAK alliance on the go, as Red’s first order of business was setting about Davey Boy with the Kendo Stick, probably for aligning with Dallas in the first place or maybe because he just fancied setting about him wae a big stick.
Wee sidebar here. Lewis Girvan kept uppercutting folk in the baws throughout his stint in the match. Really growing into this “I’m a bit of a dick and I like it” persona.
I’d imagine the NAK really just wanted to avoid the inevitable shitstorm that would accompany Mark Dallas’s entrance into the match. A shitstorm which hit full pelt when he did enter and revealed he had an insurance policy to ensure it was just him and red when he got in there. That policy was Big Damo, who cleaned house (while carefully not eliminating anyone) and created a human wall between Red and Dallas. When he moved aside they duelled. Dallas with the golf club, Red with the Kendo, only for Drew to appear on the big screen and pretend he was about to appear in real life. Ah ya big cheeky! We know yer no here! Don’t get at it! It suckered Dallas in right as he was about let loose with the golf club and the distraction was enough of an opportunity for Red to punt Dallas out. The boaysies got cocky though. As Dallas trudged back up the ramp with Sweeney and Toal in tow, Jester was too busy either chuggin his chainmail boaby, an imaginary one or his real boaby that’s attached to his body to pay attention to the fact that Joe Coffey was lurking, ready to toss Red Lightning the fuck out. The majority owner he may be, but he’s gonnae need to pull a Triple H and get creative if he wants to be the head honcho AND a two time champ cause there’s nae Square Go contract this time. Usually I’d be a wee bit gutted cause Red winning it would lead to something entertaining but after causing this match to have nae Damo AND Noam Dar. Ha fuckin ha. Catch ye.
Offt. Number 29 is revealed to be Mark Coffey. Mark Coffey maybe didn’t have a lot of momentum going in as the focus has primarily been on tagging with Polo over the past year, but counting out one of the best, most physically gifted wrestlers in it would be daft. Dafter than counting Noam Dar out equation completely because Noam Dar was never fuckin eliminated and he has the heart of a lion so he does. He was back in that locker room, tanning lines of spinach off the lower back health concious hooker and recharging they batteries good and proper to get tore right back in amongst this Square Go and win it for the boaysies. Win it for Ayrshire Noam, cause Christ knows yees were needing a win. Lionheart emerged at Number 30 looking smugger than a cunt stoating into the shop with a winning lottery ticket, but the air of “I’m big, your small, I’m smart…you’re stupit” he was carrying was short lived. Kenny Williams creeping out behind him as he made his entrance and scudding him daft with the hoverboard before sending him in the ring to be immediately clotheslined out by Joe Coffey. Just as soon as Ayrshire was doon, it rose again thanks to Noam wielding a steel chair. Coming back to win the utter fuck out this Square Go. This is your time Noam san. Get that briefcase, take the contract out, get a custom made pink shaped briefcase, fold the contract into the shape of a pinky and place it into the aforementioned briefcase. Simple as that. He made an instant impact by eliminating Doug Williams, quickly followed by Stevie Boy and generally looked like a winner. He had the pure unadulterated reek of a cunt winning that Square Go, until he had the silly notion that he might be the guy to take Wolfgang out and caught a beauty of a superkick fae BT Gunn. Welcome back to the match Noam pal, theres the bottom row of yer teeth lying on the canvas if ye fancy picking them up.
BT papped Davey Boy out, before he and Noam engaged in a lovely wee exhibition of that rare and good wrestling shit we all love. A BT Gunn vs Noam Dar match needs to happen very very soon please, but them getting in amongst it with each other caused them to take their eyes off everyone else and Mark Coffey saw his chance when they both got near the ropes, tossing two of the favourites out and leaving us with the final 4 of Wolfgang, Jack Jester, Joe Coffey and Mark Coffey. Joe Coffey having been in there for the best past of 6 whole years…I mean eh….probably about an hour….a long time anyway. He looked fucked. The Coffeys had a nice wee moment of brotherhood overcoming all, as they took shots each of leathering Wolfy and Jester in opposing corners, but Mark was the first to make a mistake. The freshest man left as well. The youthful exuberance cost him as he ran full belt at Wolfy like he was an ice cream van pulling out of his street, only for Wolfy to lift Mark over the top rope landing on the outside. Then there was three. Any faith I personally lost in the NAK was restored when Jester wielded that demonic shiny dildo in Joe Coffeys direction AGAIN. Gonnae just stop trying to pump Joe Coffey with that dildo pal eh. Its really unsettling. Wolfgang was having none of it, allowing the wee alliance they had formed to lull yer Big Kink into a false sense of security before he snatched that glistening pumpstick right off him and smashed him with it, allowing Joe to toss him out and leave it down to Wolfgang and Joe Coffey. Why are all my favourite cunts fighting each other for the richest prizes on this show? At least if it came down to Jester and either one of them I’d have a clear favourite but naaaaaaaw. They had to both do really well and get to the final two didn’t they. Fuckin selfish so it is.
The finishing sequence was beautiful. I mean come on to fuck Joe. You are absolutely not allowed to go up to the top rope and throw a man the size of Wolfgang over your head after an hour of wrestling. That is inhuman. Lets sidestep the fact that if he just gently nudged Wolfgang in the other direction that he’d have eliminated him and won the thing, because wrestling isn’t always about the unquestionable logic staring you in the face. Sometimes its about who can throw the heaviest guy the furthest, and Joe Coffey chucking Wolfgang over his heid certainly gave him the win in that department. And of course he leapt to his feet after it. Only been wrestling for an hour mate, I bet its not even that tiring and we could all do it and throw Wolfmen over our heads nae fuckin bother. He tried to deadlift German the big bastard again and after an almighty struggle, he did hit another one, but at that stage continuing to German Suplex Wolfgang only serves to puff yourself out does it not? It probably wasn’t a picnic for Wolfy either, but they both tried to eliminate each other one more time and Wolfgang just had that wee bit more left in the tank. Eliminating Joe and even teasing a wee cash-in when Renfrew came out to celebrate with him before quickly snatching that potential excitement away from us. Nae joy. THE NAK RULE THE NIGHT.
It might have ended in defeat but for me this match will serve as Joe Coffeys biggest springboard towards the ICW title yet. Carrying an injury and performing as well as he did for the duration of a 30 man rumble, performing incredible feats of strength like they were fuck all. A triumph for him individually, but the man who won it is a man who many forgot came within a bawhair of winning this belt 2-3 years ago and at that time he was seen as the next in line. The guy who personally piqued my interest in Scottish Wrestling what seems like a lifetime ago when he squared off against Prince Devitt in the match that made me believe good wrestling was still out there. A man who has never been in better shape and a man who has been a one man wrecking machine since aligning himself with the NAK. As much as it was a beautiful moment when Renfrew and the rest of the NAK came out to celebrate with Wolfgang, Renfrew knows better than most how much of a very dangerous man Wolfgang is and having that kind of physical specimen after yer belt is not particularly what you’re wanting. He’s obviously rather it was one of his brothers than anyone else, but sometimes yer brothers batter ye and steal your stuff. Even the shiny stuff. That’s a chat for another day though. For now, the Kliq reigns supreme. If they remain a solid unit, they’ll be snatching up each and every one of they belts. Even the G-Catchweight Belt, just for the fuck of it, cause why not eh.
Huge thank you to the returning David J.Wilson for the photos, and of course Warrior Fight Photography for the Renfrew promo pic which is a stoater.