ICW Shugs House Party 3 Review

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Pro wrestling is about moments. Back in January at the Square Go, after a 2 year long violent journey, Chris Renfrew defeated Grado in the most emotionally charged ICW match in history to become ICW World Champion. His reign lasted just over a month, before he became the first victim of “The Troubles” (thats what Big Damo calls they rapid elbows btw) and finally getting that emotional moment he worked so hard for, it all fell apart at the seams for Chris Renfrew. Banned from the company he loves, no longer entitled to compete for the title he fought so hard to win, watched his NAK family disintegrate in front of his very eyes and as of right now no longer even employed by the company, his loyalty to Mark Dallas cost him his family, his title, his job and the place he calls home. While Renfrew stood up for what he believed in then watched it dismantle his world, someone very close to him made a different decision that night. It was almost like he foreseen Renfrew’s plight and decided he wanted absolutely nae part of it. That’s the man with the knowing smile and the sleek looking briefcase pictured next to Renfrew here. That man is Wolfgang.

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Say whatever the fuck you please about how this night ended. As paying customers you’re entitled to it and if you were annoyed by how it played out, by all means have a right good moan about it, but don’t try and tell me Wolfgang does not deserve to be where he is. If ICW was built from the ground up, yer man laid the foundations and helped lay the first bricks. Before ICW was selling out yer SECC’s and running places like The Hydro, Wolfgang was one of the major players in getting the company within pumpin distance of these extraordinary feats by helping establish a cult following for the company across Glasgow, and as if I don’t go on about it enough, but Wolfgang vs Prince Devitt changed the way I viewed pro wrestling as an adult. As a live experience and as a standalone wrestling match it blew me away and got me personally hooked on the very special scene we have here, so as Prince Devitt aka Finn Balor gets ready to main event WWE Summerslam this Sunday, how could it be an injustice that his opponent that night sits atop the ICW mountain? Isn’t that the least the big brute deserves after years of leaving them slack jawed with his deceptive agility and that he seems to seamlessly mesh with raw power? Ever think the reason you weren’t thrilled when his moment finally came is that he’s just that good at being a belligerent baddie that all of the good things he’s done before no longer mattered? Think about it. The guy famed for being able to perform physical feats guys his size shouldn’t be able to, became ICW champion by knocking an already knackered champion out with a pair of brass knuckles. If that’s not truly becoming a “villain” I don’t know what the fuck is.

ICW Shugs House Party 3 was as about as wrestling as it gets. Good guys done good things, bad guys done bad things. Bad guys became good guys and joined up with their good pals. Bad guys said good things about good guys. A bad guy and a bad burd fought a good guy and his good pal. A good guy avenged the untimely loss of tash and a wedding ruined at the hands of a very very bad guy. A guy helped a guy he vehemently hated 6 short months ago for the greater good of the good guys, and the bad guys walked away smiling despite their hardships earlier in the night, because bad times don’t last, but bad guys do ūüėČ

The night started with Billy Kirkwood pump…I mean introducing the show with So Cal Val who was there doing backstage stuff for the Fite Network, before a vitriolic bit of promo work from The Wee Man ahead of the Tag Title Tournament final got us started wrestling show wise. A promo he ended with “wrestling is for kids” because if turning into a black vested supervillain wisnae enough, he wanted to become a sworn enemy of the virgin community anaw.

To be the champs you have to beat the champs…

The Local Fire vs Bird and Boar РFinal Of The ICW Tag Title Tournament 

The become a champion you have to beat a champion. Unless its a new title, or the former champions are deid or in jail, that’s the rules. Mark Coffey and Jackie Polo are still alive and as far as im aware, whilst they “left” ICW, that really just means they were no longer looking for bookings from that company. They didn’t leave permanent positions, so if they decided to once again make themselves available for ICW duty, they immediately become the ICW Tag Team Champions once more, and yer wee dug and pony tourny means ride aw.

Having said that, Bird and Boar and The Local Fire have been the undoubted successes of the tournament that seen many more well known teams fall by the wayside. Bird and Boar becoming more established in the company having beaten The 55 and The Sumerian Death Squad to get there. The Local Fire going from a bit of an on again off again patchwork team to one of the most established and cohesive teams kickin about. They even do songs together now, and when they jump in for a wee Mcdonalds they know each other’s order off by heart; singing it in perfect harmony while the cunt at the till wonders what kind of alternative dimension they slipped in to. Anyway, Mark and Jackie unfortunately aren’t here and working off the assumption that they won’t be back, we’d just have to accept the winners of this as the tag champs eh.

Davey had a gammy foot and was limping about a bit throughout the match. Combining the limping with calling Wild Boar fat a few times, while Wild Boar responded with mad sentons. Loves a good senton so he does. Davey took a right horsing for a bit before hitting Boar with a move he calls Tramadol Nights and tagging in Joe Hendry for some rapid lariats and a ddt. With the momentum successfully shifted, Joe hit a fallaway slam on BOTH the bird and the boar, before the two teams stood toe to toe leathering each other with heavy forearms and jabs. Bird and Board bust out their double team move Mrs Pattersons Revenge, which is probably a reference to some mad Welsh carry on, but its a cracker of a double team effort involving knees and frog splashes. It would be a double team effort that would bring the contest to an end as well, as a double team fallaway slam crowned The Local Fire your NEW ICW Tag Team Champions.

Can there really be new champions if the old ones still exist? As purple and pink blood still runs through the veins of the ICW Tag Titles (in this metaphor, the titles are living things btw) Polo promotions still have a legit claim to the tag team throne, and when the their music hit and the troops emerged, it immediately rendered the whole tag title tournament irrelevant. Nah I jest, its an achievement and we officially have two sets of champions now, but The Local Fire’s reign will always be shrouded in doubt until they beat the guys. Not the good guys, not the bad guys, THE guys. The Real Deal and Nature’s Gift To Grapplin. Polo Promotions. As they stopped at the top of the ramp to survey the supposed new kings of the tag division, Polo sparked up a cigar. 50 quid doon for smoking indoors, not even the beginnings of a fuck given. It was an almighty statement, and even if they aren’t back for good and just fancied fucking with whoever happened to win the tournament, that wee 5 minutes of them coming out and staring Joe and Davey down was enough to tell you that these cunts NEED to be back in ICW. The level of fan support and talent they possess makes them essential.¬†

Lionheart (c) vs Kenny Williams (ICW Zero-G Title Match)

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Lionheart may or may not be a fanny. Its not for me to tell ye if he is or isnae, and I certainly wouldn’t go writing articles about it or that, but one thing he most certainly is, is a smart man. A man who knows that when your opponent is making his entrance and you are yet to enter, for that wee moment in time, he’s no got a fuckin clue where you are. Ye could hop in a taxi to your opponents gaff and ride his missus for all he knows, he’s too busy jumpin aboot high fiving folk to have any clue. Lionheart didn’t jump in a taxi to go n pump Kenny’s missus but. Instead of hitting it fae the back, he hit Kenny in the back, giving the champion the upper hand from the word go. Smart thinking for a fanny eh?

Kenny quickly got a foothold in the scrap though, as the pair briefly flirted with the ring before making their way into the crowd. A wee battle on the bar, led to Lionheart tumbling to the floor and Kenny loassin the plot. He climbed up on to the wee ledge above the bar and yer man only went and hit a moonsault from about 20 feet in the air. I appreciate Lionheart’s abilities and have enjoyed his run with the Zero-G belt immensely, but if one of the two guys in this match is a “bad motherfucker” its the one wae the hi-tops and skinnies, daein death defying moonsaults.

They got in amongst it in the ring with the wrestling moves and whatnot, leading to a beauty of a spot where Kenny tried a top rope Hurricanrana only for Hearto to catch it with a Styles Clash in mind, before Kenny regained his momentum and hit the ‘rana after all. Tap stuff fae a cuttla tap boays right err. It was a belter of a match as it always is between these two, and Hearto showed more character than a Brendan Rodgers post most interview when he got the shoulder up after the Quiff Buster, before Kennys world was turned upside down when he became a TWO TIME ZERO-G CHAMPION…..for about 5 seconds. In a rare error, referee Sean McLaughlin counted three, when Lionheart got his foot on the ropes at 2. Senior referee Thomas Kearins came out giving it aw that “haw haw, hey hey, whoah there, ell Leeeeonhearto had the old fit on the rope there buddy, restart this mother!” and restart it they did. A pair of superkicks, a rock bottom and a frog splash later, Lionheart had retained.¬†

LT Degree With Debbie Sharp

Liam Thomson is one of the best wrestlers in Scotland. One of they guys who never has a bad match so he is. Tidy in all aspects of the wrestling game, particularly any aspect involving the backstabber. The LT degree has been an entertaining romp for the past few months and has proven that he has the patter to match his skills in the ring, but I’d say its had its day now and it would be lovely if we could see oor Liam do a bit more of that wrestling thing he’s so very good at. This episode was so that he could tell Debbie Sharp he actually likes her, only for Debbie to reveal she actually wants to pump Sammi Jayne. Sammi politely rejected the applibaetion (thats lit…an application to become bae…….wordplay n that) and Liam got heavy raging before Christopher Saynt appeared with a group of drag artists. Liam and Saynt had a wee standoff, which led to Liam referring to the group as “trannies”, leading to a swift slap to the dial from the tallest one wae the crackin set ah pins, and a flying kick from Saynt. I love ye Liam mate, but transphobia isnae funny. Hopefully this will signal the end of Liam Thomson doing more talking than wrestling as it looks like Thomson vs Saynt in the near future.

DCT vs Bram

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ICW ring announcer Simon Cassidy is great at his job. So much so that every single person he introduces is done with the same level of vigour. Professionalism at its finest. With one exception, and that exception is whenever he gets the truly unique honour of introducing his best friend, a certain Mr D…..C……T. On this occasion, he got to introduce his best friend as he made his way into a steel cage match on a fucking PPV so Simon gied it fuckin laldy for him as the big man made his way to the revenge pit. The steel sided warzone where Bram would finally have his comeuppance. I know its wrestling, I know him and Viper aren’t really married, but in this wee world of ours everything is real and that big bastard fuckin piledrove your missus through the cake on the happiest day of your lives. Get him fuckin smashed, not in the name of “fuck TNA” or any other trivial pish, do it because that’s how DCT handles his business. An eye for an eye. An erse slap for an arse slap. A piledriver for a piledriver.

DCT was a man possessed in the early stages. And no the usual kind of possessing that happens to him when his eyes turn red and he starts shagging everything in a 20 mile radius.This was pure “I’m gonnae rip your heart out, shite on it, put it back in, rip it out again, wash the shite aff it, then eat it” vibes as he sent Bram over the barrier as the battle started before Bram could even make it to the cage. A procession of scoop slams followed, but a wise man once told me “no one gives a shit about the moves we do” so I’ll try and keep that kind of patter to a minimum to avoid boring the tits clean aff yees. Bram had a spell of, for the lack of a better term, knocking the living fuck out of DCT for a bit, but DCT would not yield. He’s the guy that got whipped to within an inch of his life wae a belt the first time he “wrestled” in ICW and he’s the guy who had to stand idly by and watch his poor missus get her arse skelped before being sent scalp first through a big cake. He’s been through worse than a few heidbutts and a pair of middle fingers from a beard wae a thug attached. Come ahead ya big diddyride.

All of a sudden after a dropkick and a wee stumble back, Bram found himself in the exact same position DCT did that fateful night a year ago. Arms tied up in the ropes. Forced to see the horror unfold. This horror wasn’t seeing his spouse get her heid split in two though, this horror was seeing his own heid get caved in as DCT rained rapid jabs down on Bram’s skull, but auld lumpy hud tae ruin it eh. With the ref down, big Flex came to Bram’s rescue but a decidedly less lumpy being had DCT’s back as the ol ball and chain came to her man’s aid. Viper climbed to the top of the cage and crossbodied the daylights out of both Bram and Flex, before Coach Trip dragged Flex out the ring and out the equation altogether, leaving DCT free and clear to climb out the cage and soak in the adulation of 1,200 screamin “OH” at the top of their lungs. First time he’ll have heard such a thing since he ran through 50 hen parties in the one night back in the day. DCT wasn’t interested in their adulation yet though. Not until justice had been served. Justice for the ruined wedding, justice for the tash, justice for just being an unpleasant big bastard in general. Justice for having Viper in his grasp once again, how fuckin dare ye mate? DCT put victory on the back burner to come to his wife’s aid, before scoop slamming Bram from the top of the cage and scudding Bram with the polo mallet and escaping once more, but nah. Not yet. An eye for an eye. A piledriver for a piledriver.

That moment where DCT replicated Bram’s arse slap/piledriver combo to enable him to pin the big brute and win the match felt like a career maker. DCT isn’t some kind of technical wizard in that ring, but he can fuckin fight and has more charisma than many who fit the stereotypical “wrestler” bill better than he does, and he deserved to pin a bit internationally known cunt on his PPV debut. He deserved that moment. He deserved to have a match that people will talk about for a long time to come, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more personally buzzin for someone to get that moment. DCT for life. Oh.

The Black Label vs Noam Dar, Grado and ???? (Team Dallas)

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Sha Samuels is the most natural villain in British pro wrestling. To the point that using him in any other fashion is just not using him right. It would be like buying expensive paint brushes and using them to batter emulsion on tae yer bedroom walls. Having said that, there’s always an exception. John Cena was a bad guy once anaw mind. A battle rapping bad guy to be precise. So in a world where the guy who slings a ridiculous amount of merch to kids can be a battle rapping, doctor of thuganomics, there’s certainly room for the East End Butcher to pal about with his two bestos. It wasn’t looking likely right enough, as Sha came out with the rest of The Black Label as per usual, but when Team Dallas emerged still a man short, and surveyed The Black Label from the entrance way, you could tell something was afoot. There was nae hint of worry amongst the troops, in fact they looked quite confident. Gallus even. And when Grado gied it “no pinky…no party” we all knew. Sha had dropped a wee bit behind the rest of The Black Label and pointed his pinky towards the sky, before starting to leather fuck out the label as Grado and Noam joined him. SHA SAMUELS IS THE THIRD GUY. HE’S ONE OF OUR OWN! HE’S ONE OF OUR OWWWWWWWWWWN. SHA SAMUELS. HE’S ONE OF OUR OWN!!

The Pinky Party rained down mad rights n lefts on The Black Label before Noam landed a beauty of a suicide dive on a selection of them. Grado went up top for a wee slice of senton action, before Sha rounded off the high flying madness with a flying elbow off the top. Imagine villain Sha daein a flying elbow and sending the crowd daft? Unthinkable, but the times are a’changin and that means keep an eye oot for any flying Sha’s in your area. Red Lightning got right up in Sha’s face after that, before Sha chucked him in the ring for a staredown with Dallas which was broken up when a wrestling match broke out amongst the carnage. A fuckin wrestling match mate, who’d have thunk it.

Sha predictably got isolated and battered for the first part of the match. Not predictable cause he gets battered a lot or that, purely because he’d literally just turned on the guys he was against and they might not have been very happy about that. He finally got back to his buddies and tagged Noam in for what has to be the hottest tag in the history of pro wrestling. I’m no exaggerating mate. Folk in the front row were liberally applying suncream on their domes such was the ferocity of the heat kickin aff this tag. Noam went mental for a while, slingin mad dropkicks, before tagging Grado in for a tag that was even hotter! I’m no kiddin guys. Somedy stuck an uncooked beef joint, yorkshire puddings, totties and veg next to this tag, and 5 seconds later they had a beef dinner sittin in front of them. That’s how hot it wis. His momentum was short lived as Drew and Wolfie hit Grado with a double team Razor’s Edge off the second rope, before it all went a wee bit mental and we had everyone battering everyone, including Sweeney getting ko’d by Wolfgang and Scott Reid heroically hammering Drew Galloway in the baws.

Drew recovered  from the baw bashing and managed to turn a wee boot attempt from Grado into a big fucker of a powerbomb, before locking in that crossface aided by Jesters big chainmail dildo/orifice maimer, only for the lights to go out and just like Shugs House Party 1, everything changed. That night the lights going off and coming back on saw Drew Galloway return, and cost Chris Renfrew the ICW Title. This time Renfrew was the guy costing folk important shit as he hit Galloway with a stoner before dragging his sworn enemy Grado on top of Drew for the 1,2,3. Team Dallas wins. 

Dallas took to the mic to give an emotional speech about how ICW is for everyone and you can be yourself, so I guess that means Sha Samuels is actually a really nice guy deep doon if this is him being himself eh? A nice guy with unlimited access to meat cleavers right enough, so don’t get wide just because he’s allowed to be pals with Grado and Noam now. The moment where Sha joined the boaysies was incredibly beautiful and one that’ll not be forgotten. Nice that he gets to team with Noam a few times before he leaves us aw behind and becomes the most famous jew since that polis Mel Gibson slung racial slurs at.

BT Gunn and Carmel Jacob vs Stevie Boy and Kay Lee Ray (The Filthy Generation)

Stevie and Kay Lee’s music man. I know they’re baddies and that’s fine, they wear it well, but that tune is just too good. Its enjoyable in a way that makes ye want tae tan a bottle of buckie and 4 eccies in a wanner and spend the rest of yer night heidbutting a face ye drew on yer own hand. BT Gunn revealed his mystery partner to be ICW Women’s Champion Carmel Jacob, meaning Carmel and Kay Lee would be renewing their long standing rivalry for the first time in a while in ICW. Exciting, gid wrestling stuff all round.

They all proceeded to set about each other, and in terms of chemistry in that ring, Stevie and BT are better at setting about each other than any other two people in the company. Carmel and Kay Lee probably coming a close second. In fact Kay Lee and BT have bags of it anaw, which makes you wonder if there’s anyone who doesn’t have in-ring chemistry with BT Gunn. He’s just that fuckin good, ye could fire a mop wae slinky’s for arms in there with him and he’d drag a cracker of a scrap out of it. Kay Lee and Carmel battled for a bit, Carmel coming close with a Fisherwuman’s Suplex, surely a wee feud for the Women’s Title on the cards there unless some big bastardin American company steals one or both of them. BT and Carmel then set both of their opponents up in the corner, before taking shots each to chop them admist a deafening backdrop of “BT…BT…BT FUCKIN GUNN” is anycunt more popular than BT Gunn in ICW right now? Probably not. Rightfully so cause the cunt gets rid of more talent when he takes his morning shite than most folk ever actually possess. He strung together about 40 different kinds of kick in the one go on Stevie, before Kay Lee hit the Gory Bomb on him to switch the momentum back in favour of the baddies.

Weirdly for a real life couple and a long standing tag team, Kay Lee and Stevie kept fuckin up and hitting each other, yet when it came to the vital moment they were more cohesive than ever. First and foremost, BT kicked out of the destroyer somehow cause he’s some kind of atomic choppin’ cyborg, but when Stevie went for it a second time, BT blocked it only for Kay Lee to crack him over the nut with a chair, and Stevie to finish the job by easing into a roll-up for the win. They then followed that up by trying to kill him with a chair before security intervened and stopped murder. Jackie Polo had already smoked a cigar ffs, ye cannae have murder on the same show as indoor smoking. The C in ICW disnae stand for “Crime…aw the crime” cmon noo. Wee bit of revenge for BT costing them a place in the tag tourny final, but they’ll fight again and it will be beautiful.¬†

Legion vs Moustache Girvan 

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Expected some manner of shenanigans here with people turning on other people, and those people gaun “haw? whit ye daein turnin on me? thats shite mate” but in truth, it was maybe the least shenanigan riddled match of the night. Instead of shenanigan riddled, it was simply a wonderfully entertaining, non stop, out and out scrap between 6 hugely talented individuals, rounded off with people being really nice to each other on the mic. Lovely.

Girvan and Whiplash teed off on each other with rapid forearm smashes, before Tyler Bate bamboozled Dante with some slick movement. How ridiculous is Tyler Bate btw? Cunt’s 19 and has the physique and talent level of a young Mr Perfect. Just makes ye feel…..whits the word……auld. Thats the word. Heavy fuckin auld. Like an auld creaky kneed Granda shouting at the weans next door for kicking their ball in yer back garden. We then got a beautiful glimpse of what a Tommy End vs Trent Seven match would look like, but the post match speeches would suggest that’s a match we won’t ever actually get to see and that’s nothing short of heartbreaking. Know who’s stupidly underrated? Big Dante. He can go like fuck and displayed some beautiful agility for a guy his size when he rounded off a series of dives by clearing the top rope with a dive of his own (he leaned on it a wee bit, but so fuck, he’s huge and jumped really high, that’s what’s important here) As sad as it is that Tommy End may no longer be gracing ICW, don’t fuckin sleep on big Dante. He could easily be a factor in the future.

Everyone hit everyone for a solid 2-3 minutes, and it was honestly too much to keep up with. I think at one point Trent sprouted an extra heid, and Tommy End had kicked it before it had even fully emerged. Rapid kicks from all over the globe. Was nice to see Lewis Girvan match, if not exceed the level of so many talented cunts. I dunno what it is, but since that match with Lionheart there’s been an extra assurance about everything he does. Hopefully that means he’ll be shedding the “future star” tag and folk will consider him in the upper echelons in the here and now. Fuck being the future. Be the present. Noam Dar got that future patter for years, well what is he now? Very much the here and now. Age disnae matter a fuck, being able to tell engaging stories in that ring does, and yer man Girvan has all the tools when it comes to that. He and Tommy End both locked in a half crab each on Whiplash and Trent respectively, before slapping fuck out each other when they realised they both had the same move in and quickly decided…THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!

As Trent had put Whiplash away with a piledriver off the middle rope in Birmingham the night before, he could be forgiven for thinking it would get the job done here as well, so he went ahead and done that very move only for Whiplash to KICK OUT EMPHATICALLY AT ONE. A one count. No even anywhere near a near fall. As far away from a fall as you can get. Proof if it was ever needed that Mikey Whiplash and Trent Seven will not stop until they kill each other, and probably everyone else on planet earth. He followed that up with a big heid remover masquerading as a clothesline and that did indeed get the job done, bringing what was maybe the best 1o minutes of pure entertainment of the night to a close. 

Whiplash got on the mic and laid it all out there for Trent. Insisting he no longer wants the main event at the Hydro because Trent deserves it more and urging everyone to make our voices heard and get Trent in that ICW Title Match. Hard to argue with anything he said really, up until the match immediately following this one, there had been no better match in ICW this year than Trent Seven vs Big Damo for the ICW Title, and his performances in general have been unspeakably good. If he isn’t in the title match, he should absolutely still be a prominent figure on the card. Even if that means risking seeing him hit a piledriver from the top tier of the Hydro, right through the middle of the ring. Tommy End then took over to¬†bid a fond farewell to the promotion he’s spent 3 years performing for, and as nice as that was, and as much as we’ll miss the ridiculously talented big warrior, we know its not the end big man. We’ll be seeing you kick fuck out of aw sorts of cunts on that telly and hopefully one day in person again.¬†

Big Damo (c) vs Joe Coffey (ICW World Heavyweight Title Match)

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This is his time. His moment. Joe Coffey stood on the edge of the big one. The shiny prize he’s fought tooth and nail to get within shaggin distance of. Big Damo has been as dominant a champion as ICW have maybe ever had, but even 25 stone behemoths can’t stop destiny. It was finally going to be his, after 3 years of turning in outstanding performance after outstanding performance. 3 years of jumping through proverbial hoops. 3 years of battering down obstacles both real and storyline. Over a year after his last shot, Joe Coffey once again found himself in the main event of a big ICW show with the title on the line, and this time he would make no mistake.

What a fuckin stoater of a match. Its unlikely anything in ICW history will ever top Renfrew vs Grado for emotional investment, but there was something about this that left you feeling like both of them had drawn upon every single reserve they possibly could. Knowing victory meant not only being the ICW Champion, but victory would also mean earning the right to face Kurt Angle in front of 11,000 at the Hydro. Career defining shit right here. The fact that having great matches is just what Joe Coffey and Damo do together was almost rendered irrelevant because this was a different kettle of fish altogether. This wasn’t two guys who genuinely like each other having a scrap for the sake of it, for the duration of this match they wanted to maul each other and it showed as Coffey came right out the traps with a dropkick, before they laid into each other wildly with punches. If this was going to be Joe’s time, he was going to have to fuckin earn it, because its hard to get anything away from the grasp of a 25 stone giant, far less a prize that giant has fought his whole career to earn. Either turn up armed with a bazooka and a cigar hingin out yer gub, or there’s nae real point in turning up at all. You’ll be going home empty handed.

Damo weathered the early storm and firmly took control after hitting that big rib rattling senton against the barrier. Joe had silver paint on and alot of it ended up on Damo early on, so much of the early stages was basically The Iron Giant repeatedly standing on Joe Coffey’s neck. No whit yer wantin. Every attempt by Joe to get a foothold was slapped down by the champ, before he stood on Joes chest, only for Joe to reverse the senton attempt and hit the springboard crossbody to get a wee bit of momentum on the go. Big uppercuts and jabs sent Damo into the corner, before a few splashes got Joe’s tail up but Damo battered him down again before hitting the mark with a firemans carry drop into a beauty of a senton. Whit is it wae Irish wrestlers and sentons though? Every variant of the senton is used by every Irish wrestler at least 15 times a match, and naw that’s no an exaggeration. You’re an exaggeration and so’s yer maw.

Joe took a leaf out of Ireland’s book soon after with a rolling senton of his own followed by a picturesque splash from the top rope. Joe continued to build that momentum, a runaway train he wis, last stop, awthebelts. Damo derailed the train with a crossbody which must have been like getting hit by a train, before blocking a second attemot at the discus lariat with a straight up headbutt. Not a wrestling type headbutt, more like a fight to the death type of headbutt. Joe didnae die though, instead of dying he performed a feat of incredible strength, which is probably as close as ye can get to the opposite of dying, cause Joe Coffey’s no a normal man, he’s made of actual real bits of iron. A superplex from Joe was followed by a fuckin brutal looking forearm exchange. They were hitting each other guys. Nae two ways about it. Really hard. With hard ¬†bits of their body. The hardest bit of Damo’s body is probably his elbows. Nothing scientific about that assessment other than the plethora of deid bodies he’s left behind in his title defences. Anyone unsure Damo would go to the flurry of elbows to the side of the dome he calls “The Troubles” in a match against such a close ally, needn’t have wondered. Down came the elbows. But Joe wasn’t still. Joe had something in him that no one else who’s taken those elbows had. It was like someone stepping through a wall of bullets and walking up to the give the middle finger to the shooter. He somehow made it to the ropes and became the first person to survive “The Troubles” .

The trouble with surviving the troubles is the fact that they’re fuckin troublesome. A 25 stone man elbowing yer cunt in for any length of time is going to leave its mark, even if it doesn’t knock you clean out the game. Damo hit the Ulster Plantation and some how Joe kicked out. Some how, some way he hoisted a shoulder aff that canvas, because it was his night…or at least, it should have been. Another attempt at the troubles was blocked, before Joe kicked Damo in the back of the head and hit a quite beautiful German Suplex, followed by a big bastardin lariat to the back of Damo’s heid, and finally finishing the brute off with a huge lariat to the front. JOE COFFEY IS THE ICW CHAMPION. THE TWO TIME WRESTLER OF THE YEAR AND PERENNIAL MAN OF THE MATCH HAS FUCKIN DONE IT. Damo stopped on his way up the ramp to beat his chest in honour of the man who’s responsible for the only two clean losses he’s suffered in ICW in the past year. It looks like farewell from Damo, as he deservedly looks to go overseas for the next portion of his career and what better way to go out is there than having the match of the year so far with one of your best mates, before passing the torch to him? Perfection so it was. Almost too perfect….

Wolfgang is a big part of the reason I fell back in love with wrestling and him winning the ICW Title is something that absolutely had to happen at some point in time. ¬†This, in my opinion anyway, wasn’t the right point in time. The match those two had deserved to stand alone, so as much as I love big Wolfie, I’d rather have toasted his grand slam win and his first ICW title reign without feeling gutted for a guy who fully deserved that moment and fully deserved to soak in the adulation for it. Having said that, that was the whole fuckin point was it not. The goodies got to win earlier, and Dallas gained ground in the power struggle so of course it had to end with Red Lightning giving us all the middle finger and folk having anger fits. Wolfgang cashing in on a tired champion after his cronies took Damo out of the equation was the only way he could really cash in, because he’s a proper villain. Think about it, when did ye last see one of they perfect photies from David J.Wilson of Wolfgang in mid air? Ages ago, because baddies dont make people go “oooooh”. Proper baddies don’t dae Swantons to put their opponents away. Why bother when its no rules and you can fire some brass knuckles on and knock the cunt clean oot instead? Joe did fight. He kicked out the first time and managed to hit a lariat in anger, but as Red stopped the ref counting the three, Wolfgang had enough time to stick the brassers on and knock Joe the fuck out to become your NEW ICW Champion.¬†

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Really good show n that. Totally wrote this ages ago, I just eh……forgot to put it out. Honestly. Still tickets for the show at The Garage on Sunday. Go to that.¬†

 

Cheers as per to David J.Wilson for the photos.

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ICW Fight Club Review – May 20th Show (Joe Coffey vs Jack Jester)

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The show kicked off with one man’s pain. He took a gamble and it backfired, so not only does Chris Renfrew no longer have the right to compete for the ICW World Heavyweight Title, he no longer has a job. He queried if it would even be worth his while if he was to lose the plot and start taking scissors to pregnant burds and executing ring announcers. Is any of it worthwhile if there’s no goal at the end of it? No belt to compete for? Surely thats what any wrestler aspires to be. The champ. Renfrew’s nae different. You have to imagine that shiny trinket of wrestling excellence is the thing that continues to drive Joe Coffey through all these hurdles put in front of him. In the year and a bit since he got his shot at Barramania 1 its seemed to be hurdle after hurdle. When he’s in the process of knocking down roadblocks, Red Lightning’s 100 feet down the road setting up more. Joe’s gamble was a bit more cut and dried than Renfrew’s though. He wins and he gets a title shot, he loses hes gone. Simple as that. There’s nae wee surprise firing here, if Jack Jester emerged victorious Joe Coffey was oot the door. It just couldn’t happen. He’s too vital. He represents hard graft and dedication to being the best you can possibly be actually mattering a fuck and if he goes its fucked. Nae Renfrew representing everything ICW is, was and wants to be. Nae Joe Coffey leading the rebellion. Nae fuckin point really is there? They’ve won. The bad guys run the show now and they’re just gonnae fight each other and have a laugh from now on. If you’ve got a problem with it you’ll get invited into the ring for a scrap and/or an 8 week initiation period to see if yer cut out for the pro wrestling malarkey. But if the show started with sorrow, it ended with jubilation. From one man’s pain came the triumph of an Iron Man.

The Local Fire vs The Rich Kids Of Instagram

Osiris told us all 3 of them would be wrestling in this match, and then gave it “Freebird rules baby!” Freebird rules means any 2 of a team of 3 can defend that team’s tag titles, disnae just mean 3 folk can wrestle 2. This incorrect statement, and the fact that they wear hats with light up bits on them gives me an itchy dislike for The Rich Kids Of Instagram. An itch that could only be scratched if a grizzly bear ate the cunts, or if Aaron Echo saw sense and battered fuck out the other two. Nah I jest. Good on them n that. But see if they’re rich and Red Lightning is their uncle, surely he must be rich as well? Rich enough to perhaps be able to purchase and second, and maybe even a third pair of denims. But listen, there was a wrestling match here and The Wealthy Weans of Whatsapp were up against a Joe Hendry and Davey Blaze with problems. A Local Fire that might be about to be extinguished. Mistrust in the ranks. A bucky bottle shaped dent in Joe Hendrys heid and heart. The prize? A place in the next round. The tag belts on the line. Or maybe some shiny new belts if Polo Promotions decide to punt theirs on Ebay.

Can it really be considered a 3 on 2 match if 2 members of the team of 3 spend the majority of the match gettin chucked about like wet washin? Big Echo looked impressive as ever but for the most part Davey and Joe ragdolled his “cousins”. Love the wee Sasha Banks-esque double stomp in the corner thing Echo does though. Much like his shites, its always money (trying to work the gimmick into a bit of patter there, cause they’re supposed to be rich so im impyling they shite ¬£50 notes. Did it work aye? Good) but The Local Fire eventually overcame the numbers game, and some internal dissent when The Wee Man came out to wind Joe Hendry up to win the match with mad fallaway slams. The double fallaway slam on Echo, before Kyle Khaos and Austin Osiris took one each, and Davey finished Khaos off with a big bastardin spear.¬†Game’s a bogey.

Ye know what they say though eh? the bogey’s are always greener on the other side or eh….something. Joe Hendry chased The Wee Man behind the curtain. Leaving Davey to deal with dark side of the bogey as they say (really need to cut this metaphor, its no working, nor is it even a metaphor) as he was subjected to a 3 on 1 beatdown from The Richies. The bold Ravie Davie saved the day, appearing to springboard double dropkick Osiris and Khaos before inviting big Echo to come ahead, and sharing a wee moment with Davey Boy before disappearing screaming “fuck the system!”. With tensions rising in The Local Fire, is there an alliance brewing between the two Daveys? Wid their tag team name be “Double D’s doon tae yer knees?” Who knows mate. Who fuckin knows what this mad wrestling patter will chuck at us. Just strap yourself in good n tight and enjoy the ride.

The LT Degree With Sammi Jayne

Since Liam Thomson is all about degrees and therefore all about education. Instead of analysing this weeks LT Degree, I’m going to outline exactly what we learned from it. And oh boy, that was indeed a vast amount of things. About to be presented to you in informative bullet points so you absorb each piece of information individually and profoundly. Drink it all in. Become LT. Absorb the D.

  • Liam Thomson has a MASSIVE cock. Here’s a recent photo of him taking it for a nice walk as proof of the fact.liam
  • Sammi Jayne was promised the Women’s Title if she was to align herself (mind, body and soul) with Liam Thomson and Debbie Sharp. A group they have dubbed “The LT Degreeeeeeeees”. The nature of this role is yet to be outlined properly, but basically it seems to involve and lot of holding stuff for Liam Thomson while advocating the fact that he has a massive dick. Massive. Honestly like a fuckin treetrunk wae two watermelons underneath.
  • Carmel arrives to inform us that Liam Thomson’s dick is in fact really wee. Like mind how ye used to/probably still get spaghetti and sausages? Know how the wee sausages? Like one of them, but half the girth. She also goes through every match he’s had this year, detailing how he lost them and telling him that’s why ICW aren’t booking him in matches. Because he always loses them. The first non penis related point of this weeks show, which was a refreshing change of pace.
  • Carmel then turned her attentions to Sammi Jayne, who hadn’t spoken yet despite being this weeks guest on the show because in case you haven’t gathered it by now, the LT Degree isn’t really a chat show, more the place people go to get therapy for genital fixations. Carmel challenged Sammi to a last woman standing match for the ICW Women’s Title, but before she gave her answer to that question…..
  • THREESOME DENIED. A fine attempt from Thomson, but that possibly massive but probably toaty willy will not be gettin double dipped. Instead Sammi his a beauty of a German Suplex on Debbie, before passing comment on her “massive fanny” and suhin about his boaby no touching the sides. Before she went on to accept Carmels challenge and they had a right good staredoon to round it all off. Nae idea when this match will actually take place but it’ll likely steal the show on whatever show its on let me tell ye that. Did ye let me? Well then I’ve tellt ye.

Kay Lee Ray vs BT Gunn

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It’s extremely difficult to dislike Kay Lee Ray and Stevie Boy even though they’ve turned into right vengeful bastards, cause of that fuckin entrance tune. I commend folk who are able to see past that and still give them shit for their collective sins, because as soon as I hear that tune all I want to do is cover mysell in UV paint, get good n sweaty and heidbutt some inanimate objects and/or human people. Point is, its a fuckin tune, and this was a fuckin match. That might no seem very descriptive but if you’ve seen it, you’ll know why it fits. Ye struggled to catch a breath watching it so fuck only knows how the people actually performing it managed to keep that relentless pace going. One of the most absorbing matches of the year so far, but what else was gonnae happen when two of the very best in the UK/World came face to face and completely disregarded traditional gender roles in the name of kicking fuck out each other.

Well “kicking” is underselling it a bit. It was more than just kicking. Any part of human anatomy that can conceivably be used to strike another human was in play here. At one point BT ripped his own shin off and cracked Kay Lee with it before a new shin immediately grew in its place because that’s BT Gunn. That’s how his talent sometimes manifests itself. Growing new shins and caving in chins. That’s what BT Gunn does. Stevie Boy took a suicide dive that bent guardrail before taking an accidental kick in the chest aff his burd, which looked unpleasant but also probably straightened oot his spine after the guardrail spot. That’s what a solid relationship is. Even during acts of accidental violence, your still looking out for yer other half. Kay Lee’s game as fuck, but sometimes gameness comes hand in hand with daftness and Kay Lee made the extremely ill advised decision to start a chop war with BT Gunn. That’s like….well…there actually isnae anything you could even compare that does it justice. Its just no a thing any sane human would think of doing. I’d hand BT Gunn a machine gun and start a gun fight before I’d volunteer to take any chops from him. But there they were. Chopping fuck out each other for their sins. Kay Lee was slingin’ two handers but BT’s were still causing the most damage to both Kay Lee’s chest and everycunt elses eardrums. BT was on top but Stevie got his neb in again and the tide had firmly turned when Kay Lee done a mad bunny hop off the top rope before landing and hitting the Canadian Destroyer. I dunno if the hop was for momentum or just pure showmanship (showomanship? ) but it looked sare as fuck. Somehow BT kicked out and found a second, third and probably a fourth wind to hit the Gory Bomb on Kay Lee. Her ain move no less! Still only 2. Maybe it would actually need settled with a gunfight, or at least some kind of samurai sword based duel.

The chop procession continued, but this time it was joined by all sorts of kicks, as they pretty much stood in the middle of the ring, right on that ICW logo, engaged in a bitter fight to the death. You would never believe they’re actually pals, this was like suhin outta Kill Bill at times, as a kick to the baws was met by a kick to the fanny, followed by the heinous act of BT throwing Stevie at his missus while she was hung up in the corner. If a match involves a man being flung at his burd that’s instantly 5 stars in my book. A superkick exchange led to Kay Lee being reduced to one knee. With a smirk on her face that said “Dae it……kill me” DOOOOSH! The knockout blow was delivered with a sickening superkick to the temple and that finally got the pin. BT Gunn keeps on fighting the good fight.

Really didn’t expect to enjoy BT this much as an out and out good guy but he pulls it off and doesn’t sacrifice any of the trademark brutality wrestling wise. Stunning bit of wrestling so it was. Proof that no matter what dwells between yer legs, if yer game for a fight, and the person opposite is also game, a fight will indeed take place. Stevie jumped in to attack BT only for Viper to provide hauners, she actually full on launched Kay Lee into the crowd before she even got to the ring anaw. Proper launched her so she did. I dunno if shes an NAK affiliate now, or just BT Gunn’s designated burd hauners, but they seem like good pals and that’s nice. Its nice that he has a new burd pal since his last one stopped being his pal and started being a person that kicks him in the baws a lot.

Mikey Whiplash vs Johnny Moss

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This was Whiplash’s last match in ICW for a while. Fans have questioned if his departure is down to a real life issue or part of a storyline, but I don’t get why it matters or why people need to know. No matter the reason for it, its bad news regardless. No matter the reason behind it, the end result is him not wrestling in an ICW ring for a while and that’s not an ideal situation. An ideal situation in any wrestling promotion would always involve Mikey Whiplash wrestling folk. This match spelled out exactly why that is, as it was a masterclass from both. Whiplash had the Polo Promotions squad jersey hanging out his trunks. A nod to departed comrades before he departed himself. If anyone had a problem with it, they could direct it at the spit Mikey Whiplash left on the ICW logo before he departed through a side exit. The match was a beautiful display of holds followed by an equally beautiful display of just about everything else. I’m ill equipped to properly put it into words. Mossy kneed the shite out of Whiplash before Whiplash cleaned him out with a clothesline which brought the hold for hold part of the match to an end, eventually leading to Mossy hitting a perfect German Suplex with a belter of a bridge for the win.¬†

Considering how reluctant Whiplash has been to shake hands with folk lately, even one’s he respects and dare I say ones he actually LIKES, but Mossy’s handshake was accepted because he’s fuckin Johnny Moss. He could shag yer wife and you’d still accept a handshake off him because fuck dealing with the consequences of not accepting it. The main one most likely being an inability to eat food due to no longer having teeth. After Mossy departed, the air of mutual respect left with him. All that was left was Mikey Whiplash’s unrelenting anger for the company he was once the champion of. The company he gave everything to, including a shiny big grogger right on the logo before he left. Maybe for a wee while before returning in dramatic fashion. Maybe for good. Who the fuck knows, but one thing we do undoubtedly know is that its bad news. Just like the Polos leaving, even Billy Kirkwood and Renfrew being fired, no matter if the reasons for these departures are “real” or “fake” who the fuck cares when the end result is talented people no longer performing on wrestling shows? Its a shite situation, but one talented person who wasn’t quite done with the company yet had the opportunity to provide a chink of light in amongst the shite. That man is an Iron Man. That man is Joe Coffey, and his task was beating Jack Jester by any means necessary to secure a title shot and keep his job. Easy eh? Well…..

Joe Coffey vs Jack Jester (Coffey wins he gets an ICW Title Shot, Coffey loses he’s gone from ICW)

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Joe Coffey beating Jack Jester in a one on one shenanigan free wrestling match is still a formidable task. Going up against a former ICW Champion and probably the only guy who’s ever threatened to shove a chain-mail dildo up his arse is never an easy task, doing it in a situation where the mug mangler Sha Samuels is the guest ring announcer? It gets just that wee bit harder. Add Kid Fite into the mix as “Dr Watson” the ringside doctor, a sinister picture starts to form. Chuck big Flex in as ringside enforcer, with a sprinkle of Lionheart as special guest ref and you’ve got yourself a fuckin stitch up. The man making sure the stitch up went to plan was the big boss man (no the actual one, he’s deid) Red Lightning as the timekeeper. Dae timekeepers exist these days unless someone with bad intentions needs an excuse to be a ringside? Its a dying trade anyway. But Joe didn’t just have Jester to contend with, he had a whole squad of cunts who don’t really think much of him to contend with anaw. Mere mortals wouldn’t have a hope in hell, even the Iron Man might struggle, the mighty wrestler would struggle to wrestle his way through this minefield, but Joe Coffey with a chip on his shoulder and vengeance in mind? The old spraypainted No mercy vest that he wore back in the day when he was all about screaming at Grado and making Red Lightning pay for his sins? Get out that cunts road before he knocks yer heid aff and punts it into the stratosphere in defiance.

Before Joe was introduced, Red asked for anyone who wanted to hauner Joe to step forward now or forever hold their hauners, AND IT WAS THEM. POLO PROMOTIONS MUSIC PLAYED AND THE PRODIGAL SONS HAD FINALLY CAME HOME. Or so we thought, it was a ruse. Everycunt fell about laughing as there was no Polo Promotions to save the day. There are no heroes in this tale. Only villains having a right gid laugh at their work. Sha eventually saw fit to introduce a man he almost fondly referred to as “The Iron Mug”. Joe Coffey. In amongst the shenanigans, it has to be said that Joe and Jester had a pretty decent match. If its done right and the various shenanigans involved are timed well, a match ridden with interference can actually feel cohesive and good and the atmosphere in the place definitely helped it. Joe got a right feel good factor into the place when he tossed Jester over the barrier before launching himself right over it. He then found a bin, smacked Jester with it before proudly declaring “I FOUND A TENNER!” to scenes of wild jubilation. Maybe this would be Joes night after all. Any night where you find a stray tenner in Glesga and its not attached to some sort of dug shite based prank, its a good fuckin night. A night where the gods are smiling on you. It certainly seemed that way when Joe got the Boston Crab locked in good n tight right in the middle of that ring, but nah. Not that easy Joe san. Red told the troops to surround him and a beatdown was delivered. Lionheart even getting some sly kicks in while pretending to try and bring some order into the situation, but Joe was not for yielding. A big dive over the top rope on to EVERYCUNT, immobilising the troops briefly before Jester took over.

The tables had turned. Joe fought for his ICW life as Jester mangled him with chairshot after chairshot. Every conceivable type of chairshot was used including shooting the chair out of a cannon, and launching it from the top of The Wallace Monument right on to Joes heid. But he kept on fighting and was offered a glimmer of hope when Joe Hendry and Davey Boy turned up to huckle The 55 out the building. The numbers still weren’t in the Iron Mans favour but you got the feeling things were going his way. Even when Lionheart refused to count the pin after he hit the tombstone Kenny Williams was on hand to lay Hearto spark out with a superkick. Unfortunately for Kenny, big Flex was on hand to chokeslam him clean oot his bollocks, before Joe hit the Discus on Jester.

Only problem there was…nae ref to count the pin. Lionheart was stoatin’ aboot lookin steamin, and even if he was fine he’d have slow counted it tae fuck anyway. In came exiled former senior referee Thomas Kearins, illegally entering himself in to proceedings from the crowd and getting to a count of two before Lionheart suddenly found a second win and knocked him out with a superkick of his own. Joe had apparently grown tired of the biased nature of the officiating and decided enough was enough. Down went Hearto thanks to the discus but one person that had flew under the radar pretty much the whole time was Jester. Plotting whit orifice he was gonnae probe next with that shiny fake boaby while Flex delivered a chokeslam for a two count performed by Sean McLaughlin, who had emerged to become the third and final man to take charge of this chaos. With Sean in there you guaranteed impartiality and handsomeness so we were on to a winner the minute he appeared. A fair fight. Who’d have thought it possible at the start eh. The numbers game was finally evened up as Big Damo the man who Joe Coffey would likely face for the title if he was to win provided unlikely hauners. Clearly thirsting for the challenge Joe would bring. They always have cracking matches and Joe was (to my knowledge) the last person to gain a clean win over Damo in ICW so its only right that he gets his shot. And get it he did.

The finale was unrelenting. They stood toe to toe leathering each other, before a few attempts at the Discus were blocked, only for Joe to finally find the sweet spot and connect with a beauty of a lariat. LIGHTS OOT FOR BIG KINK. JOE COFFEY HAS CONQUERED. Damo made sure Red Lightning rung the bell and Joe finally had a well earned second shot at the gold. Against at times impossible looking odds, he prevailed in the most dramatic way possible. His win was more than just a guy winning a wrestling match though, it was Joe Coffey overcoming the odds to take a spot that he’s well and truly earned. I know it, you know, Damo knows, and now The Black Label and all their affiliates know it anaw. Mark in yer diaries for…eh…sometimes in the not too distant future. Joe’s getting his shot!

 

 

Fierce Females – Strewth Shiela Review

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Fierce Females are gaining some traction and quite right too. With a roster brimming with homegrown talent, there’s no reason for it not to prosper. The problem with all womens shows has always been getting folk to look past the guff mainstream companies serve up and have the audacity tae call “wrestling”. It gives womens wrestling a stigma it disnae deserve, and trivialises all the proper womens wrestlers out there bursting their arses to put on proper performances. So fuck that Total Divas shite, fuck it right in the eye. Get yer narra’ erse to Walkabout and see some real lassie hardcases do it properly. Nae barbies slapping each other about and botching simple shit, just pure, unadulterated wrestling. Strewth Sheila had plenty of that, and even though its nearly a week later, I’m gonnae attempt to cobble together some thoughts about that. Continue reading

SWA Clan Wars 2014 Review

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SWA made their return to the Motherwell Concert Hall to celebrate their 10 year anniversary, after a hugely successful night at the venue for Battlezone. At that event, Scotland’s premier suplex slinger and lariat chucker Joe Coffey won a 30 man rumble to earn a shot at the Scottish Heavyweight Title. It was only fitting that the scene of that triumph would be the venue where Joe would look to see it bear fruits, as he would cash in his title shot and challenge Mikey Whiplash for the Title inside a Steel Cage. Whilst that eye watering, baw tingling prospect was undoubtedly the highlight, the whole card was stacked with the very best homegrown talent, with some intriguing singles matches, a tag title match and a couple of elimination tag matches to go with the Steel Cage match, it was a card with a bit of everything

Continue reading