Wrestling And Depression Part Deux

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I first wrote about depression around 2 or 3 years ago now. Excuse the ballpark figure, but who can be arsed actually fact checking when it involves such strenuous activity as typing a word into a search bar. Point is, it was a while ago now. That first post was to be perfectly honest a liberating experience. To have so many people not only appreciate the most difficult words I’d ever managed to string together somewhat coherently, but to tell me the words helped THEIR struggle and they saw some comfort in reading about someone experiencing similar things that they do on a day to day to basis trying to conquer this beast once and for all, it was the most surprising and rewarding thing I’ve ever stumbled into. Not to mention the wee added bonus that writing about it became therapeutic and helpful to my own battle. We’re all winning out of this one guys. I planned to write a book about this soul sucking affliction and I still plan to/have written bits and pieces but how can anyone who’s such a horrendous, fucked up mess of a human do a thing like that? Write a book. Please. Try sorting out the sorry pile of humanity that looks back at ye in the mirror first eh. Having ambitions is silly. Goals are for other people. Better people. People who have it together. People who know who and what they are. Not you, with the apprehension and the sweat rapidly racing off your forehead like its late for getting in some other poor cunt’s eyes. Not you constantly making excuses to stay in your own wee safe haven. Away from them. Away from the eyes, and the judgement. Away from anything that isn’t perfectly still.

The thing about mental illness I’ve learned above all other things is that it’s a sneaky wee bastard so it is. Let your guard down to it and it’ll eat you alive. Stop doing the things that make it better and guess what? It’ll get fucking worse won’t it. Of course it will. Self explanatory. Don’t deviate from a path that brought success. Don’t take your eyes off the ball, or the ball becomes a medicine ball dipped in concrete heading right between your eyes, taking your head off your shoulders. And there lies the problem with being involved in something that relies on your brain being functional, creative and open. When I first started writing about pro wrestling it consumed me with fuck all but pure joy. Fuck all but worry free escape. Who gives a flying fuck who says what about it, its only words. The logical side of the brain can tell you that sunny shit all day long. You could even give someone a job following you about whispering “You’re fuckin amazin, and yer dick is perhaps the most aesthetically pleasing one ever conceived” in your ear every 5 seconds and it still wouldn’t work. You’d just be a mentally ill cunt with a wet ear listening to the even louder voice in your head telling you its not possible. You can’t do it, you’re the guy who had a panic attack in Central Station and had to get the bus home quietly in angst soaked tears because getting a train to a college course that was supposed to put you on the path to journalistic superstardom was too much that day. You’re the guy who pursued fuck all in a romantic sense for the best part of 10 year because the image that looked back at you in the mirror was sad, specky and definitely dying alone. Why even bother trying. Why.

I guess what I’m trying to articulate is that suffering from anxiety and depression is like a constant internal battle. For a while the side telling me I was worthless and good for fuck all except crustin up socks won every single day. A landslide in favour of fuck all. Sit and do nothing. Watch a TV series. Watch another one. Drink a beer alone. Drink 12 beers and a half bottle of vodka alone. Vomit up 12 beers and a half bottle of vodka alone. For fuck’s sake don’t let your brain wake up and realise what you’re trying to do to it. I wanted my brain to die. I wanted it numb. Having no thoughts other than how I’d be spending the next hour of that present misery ridden day. When I started writing regularly for the first time since I was at school the other side starting grabbing the odd unlikely win. The side that saw the good shit. The side that thought a life of eternal solitude wasn’t a guarantee. Don’t get me wrong, even the more positive side still thought that one was likely, but at least I was open again. I had purpose, and felt like something I was doing mattered and I honestly had no expectations from it at all. Everything was a bonus. Everything felt so very “yasss”. A wrestler agreed to an interview? Fuckin yass. Many wrestlers agree to interviews? Fuckin yass, plus yaldi, plus OOOH WEE. A wrestler agrees to a sit down interview? Fuckin yass plus yaldi, plus OOH WEE, plus OH MY MY, WHAT A GUY. Mick Foley DM’s you at 1am saying he really liked that piece you linked him to about ICW and that he was a big fan of your style. Fuckin…are you……is this….a joke? HOW? WHAT? WHY? REALLY??? NO WAY. Naw….naw fuck off mate. Naw.

You catch the drift there, point is, it was fucking emotion I’ve never really felt before. Mick Foley is my all time hero in wrestling and up there with my auld man, and former Celtic playmaker Lubomir Moravcik when it comes to my heroes in life generally. There’s no one I looked up to as a young yin quite like Mick Foley. Maybe its because I grew up overweight and he didn’t have the chiselled abs like the rest of the spandexed bruisers I loved watching batter lumps out each other. Maybe it was because his character tore his hair clean out his skull and I felt like doing the same to mine (figuratively like, I was bald as fuck from ages 15 to 25). Maybe it was because up against all kinda of evil he still had a soft side. Almost a innocence that remained it tact no matter how many things lined with thumbtacks got smashed off his skull. No matter how many times a “game” wielded a sledgehammer at him. No matter how many times an Undertaker actually tried all he could to put Mick Foley in the ground for good. He never relented. I love John Cena more than most, but as far as I’m concerned he’s borrowing “Never give up” from a man who literally didn’t seem to know how.

I don’t know if this deep seeded desire to never give in was driven by the voices in his head telling him HE couldn’t do it, but the fact is something kept telling Mick Foley to get up and that resonated with me. I remember staying up till 4-5am to watch the 2000 Royal Rumble, when I was at an age where staying up till that time was actually not allowed as opposed to an ill advised decision I make regularly as an adult. WWE had recently secured a deal with terrestrial TV station (purely used that word cause typing channel twice in a row wis hurtin ma brain) Channel 4, meaning the Royal Rumble could be watched without me having to beg my mum n dad to shell out 15 quid for the PPV on cable. Mick Foley under his perhaps most fabled Cactus Jack guise would challenge Triple H for the WWE Title that night and honestly, as much as the death-matches with Terry Funk and the one where he was tossed from 30 feet in the air through a table probably brought him closer to his maker than any other contest, something about this one felt more brutal. The punishment he took that night just seemed to mean more for some reason, because in my naive little brain I was CONVINCED he was taking that title from the man attached to a nose known as Triple H. Good would triumph over evil for once. Violence for the sheer fun of being violent would triumph over huge nosed violence for personal gain. Sitting on the edge of my seat quite literally watching that, and the heartbreak that came with Foley’s loss to The Rock at that same event the year before after the most sickening and probably slightly illegal attack with a steel chair I’ve ever seen are two of the most prominent and important memories I have from growing up watching wrestling. Seems weird that two of the moments I remember more than most are two high profile “failures” but it felt good to believe in someone and be lost in those moments so much that it almost felt like YOU were there. That time period solidified Foley’s role as my hero, the gift (and perhaps the curse) he gave me in 2015 was a different kind of heroism.

I think the most troubling aspect of being validated by my all time hero was the fact that I suffer from mental illness at all. If I didn’t, such a beautiful joyful thing could never have been turned into a negative but almost instantly when I read Mick Foley’s first DM to me I wondered what made me worthy of that? I mean think about it for a second, of all the wrestlers who have gone on to write books, Mick Foley is by quite a distance the most esteemed as an author and has gone on to write several more critically acclaimed books. He has a talent for this very thing I’m doing right now. To have him tell me I was talented at a thing he’s very talented at himself was just incredibly surreal. To have him vow to share my work on social media platforms where literally millions of people follow him was almost too much. I felt mostly great about it all, but the doubts were still there. The doubts that it was all a fluke, and maybe if I hadn’t written about a promotion he was about to appear for, he wouldn’t have read it at all. Truth be told that’s probably the case as he likely gets linked to all sorts every day in his social media life. The perils of being a famous man on social media. I wondered why it was right that social media connecting us all made it so easy for me to make an impression on a man who had to do a lot more to make an impression on me all those years ago. All I did was include his handle in a tweet to get him to notice me, when he nearly fuckin died trying to entertain me.

When I first started writing I had absolutely no expectations for it, but the all-time, never to be reached but keep shooting for it anyway goal was to interview wrestling people. That was it really. I’ve always been interested in stories more than any kind of critical evaluation when it comes to wrestling, so when folk occasionally pull me for not being critical enough it kinda baffles me. I’m not in an informed enough position to fire a star rating at you or tell you what you done wrong in a match and I never will be. Its a role I’ve never been comfortable with in the slightest, but telling someones story? I’m all in for that. Getting the chance to sit next to people you admire and have them give you the time of day enough to really get something good out there is a buzz I’ve never come close to doing anything else “professionally” and when I started doing it, that unattainable goal was sitting next to the man I admired the most in wrestling and getting to pick his brain a wee bit. So I figured “fuck it”. He messaged me after all. He’s in the country for ICW in a few weeks. Why not just ask. What harm can come of asking? Well, him saying no, but apart from that? A no can only kill the self esteem after all, the human shell would still remain. BUT HE FUCKIN SAID YES. Cutting a long story very slightly shorter, he said if he had the time he would do an interview with me and a month or so later there I was. Sitting next to Mick fuckin Foley with a dictaphone and my actual phone just in case the dictaphone fucked up, asking him questions. Interviewing Mick fuckin Foley. Fuck.

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It went by in a 15 minute literary heart attack. A blur. Somehow I was coherent. Somehow I asked questions that mattered to me and mattered to him. Besides transcribing it the day after I haven’t actually ever listened to it back, but a recording exists of me interviewing Mick Foley. That’s real and it fuckin scared the living shite out of my barely functional brain. How did we manage that one? The interview happened after a Micks standup show the night after ICW at the SECC, and he left for Manchester right after, with everyone else still at the venue. I remember standing outside waiting for a taxi when Billy Kirkwood pulled up on his way out asking if I was ok for a lift, and as soon as he pulled away a few tears ran down my cheek. I don’t know what specific feelings were attached to those tears at the time, but christ, around 2011-2012 I didn’t see a future for myself at all. In life. The only thing preventing multiple suicide attempts was cowardice and a reluctance to leave my loved ones with a similar pain to the one I felt every day just from being alive. The best future I seen for myself was somehow getting some kind of IT job as far away from the world as possible and becoming one of those middle aged guys with a shit tonne of money cause they spent their 20s and 30s hidden away from the world getting really invested in weird Japanese porn. The point is, to go from that daily torment to standing outside The Stand in Glasgow after having a dream literally come true, and being able to tell my long term partner about it later carried a significance that can’t be summed up properly with words. My self worth had never been higher in my adult life than it was at that point and well…fuck. Where do we go from there? The only way is dooooooown.

Truth be told from the moment I put that interview up until very recently something’s been missing. I don’t love doing this any less than I did at all. In fact quite the opposite. Often me not writing much is due to loving it a bit too much and fretting about coming up to this imaginary standard I’d set in my head. Truth be told if Mick Foley liked anything about my stuff it wasn’t the quality control aspect of it. I write what I feel and overthinking is very counter productive to doing that. Or at least doing it well. I went off anti-depressants, then back on them, and finally off them again. I got a job and for the first time in many years, maybe ever, I had a pretty normal life on the go. Girlfriend, job, even some friends for fucks sake! Something resembling a social life. Things to do that made sitting torturing yourself over the words you are writing and the word’s you haven’t been able to muster just wasn’t the same anymore. I think for a wee while I was denying it to myself that this is what I want to do with my life and quietly that was wreaking havoc on my self esteem all over again because I stopped doing one of the things. The things that made this mental illness shit seem like less of an “illness”. The things that lifted the proverbial black cloud. The key one was undoubtedly throwing myself fully into something I loved. Something I felt deep down I was born to do. Being a writer. Spending every spare moment writing for better or worse. It has to be this again.

For the past few months, on and off, I’ve struggled again. For the past 2 weeks or so, its been an unrelenting restlessness. A feeling that I’m not doing enough that’s been impossible to shake. Weirdly working in a paper shop was one of the triggers. Front page of one of the rags with a shiny celebrity (be fucked if I know who) telling us how she “Beat” depression. Turn to page fuck yersell to read how you can beat it too! The only time the media really want to cover mental illness is when there’s chaos involved in the lows, or triumph in the highs. No one wants to talk about the day to day struggle. No one wants to cover a story about a person having what they consider to be a good day purely because they overcame depression enough to eat a meal and leave the house. No one wants to talk to you about coping mechanisms, they either wan’t you to be a mess drowning in substance abuse or “cured”. There is no cure. You could be months, years, fuckin decades free of it and one day it could decide to fuck with you again for no reason. That’s the nature of it and telling folk otherwise, pushing this stupid idea that if you do certain things or be a certain way you can be rid of it for good, is something that will forever insult and eat away it me. The only thing you can do is make day to day life easier. Sometimes a lot easier. You can recover and learn to live with it. You can find things that help rather than habitially doing things that harm. One of the few things that helps me is doing this. Because it always has been and always will be a coping mechanism and that’s ok. I think I resented it being a coping mechanism for a wee while and stopped writing about mental illness because I only wanted happy things to be attached to this but that’s not what writing is. Writing is getting the wet-suit on and scuba’ing to the deepest darkest shitest most self doubt ridden corners of who you are and pulling out the words regardless. Fuck giving up. Fuck going backwards and reverting back to the guy who wanted to die. Fuck watching this writing caper pass me by for another minute. While having a full-time job fucks with it slightly, no more excuses. No more letting my brain talk me out of doing what I love. No more of anything between 3 and 6 weeks going by without a single word going on this site. I interviewed Mick Foley ffs. I am something. I am someone. I have depression.

An Interview With Krieger

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Krieger throwing up gang signs moments after being given detention for wearing a singlet to school

When I first gave big Krieger a shout about doing an interview, he was not one half of the PBW Tag Team Champions. In between me asking and eventually sending him questions, he had somehow become one half of the PBW Tag Team Champions and that got me thinking. What if this is a trend? What if this is the winter of gold for Krieger’s young and old, and if I wait it out just a wee bit longer, he’ll be WWE Champion by the time I send the questions. Ever since I pulled the trigger and actually got this done, Krieger has won The TNA X-Division Title, The GFW Grand Atlantic 12 Gold Bars for £11.99 Title, The Nobel Peace Prize, The Formula One Drivers Championship, The ICW Zero-G Title, The WWE Smackdown Womens Title and The Johnny Thighslaps Award For Excellence In Wrestling Realism, so he’s on pace to have won every award available to the human race by the end of 2016. A number of postal votes for the US Presidential Election are said to have Trump and Clinton crossed out and “Big Krieger fae the wresslin!” scribbled in their place, but we pride ourselves on getting these interviews BEFORE the big break happens so we can be all smug lit that “See him? Knew about him before knowing about hings wis even a hing m8!”

So the questions were sent, and the big charismatic baw booter provided answers. Probably while he was covering Kevin Owens to become only the third ever WWE Universal Champion.


So new PBW tag champs eh? Ye think yer a big shot now do ye? Nah seriously though, how did it feel to take the titles on PBWs biggest show of the year?

Means the world. The fact that it’s for PBW who trained me and taught me everything I know makes it that much more special. The fact it was with Lou was special for me also because he has always went out his way to help me. When it became clear that our characters fell within the same ballpark it would have been easy for him not to be too keen on it but instead he went out his way to advise me on how to carry a character through a match. When you put they two factors together it was an honour.

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You and Lou King Sharp have been tagging for a wee while now and are part of a growing division of young tag teams in Scotland. How far do you see this team going and will there be a plentiful amount of dancing and maw shaggin along the way?

No need to worry, for the foreseeable future I’ll be dishing out scuddings and Lou will be sending yer maw scuddies. The tag division in Scotland is full of great talent. It’s no my place to say where we fit into that, that is the job of fans and promoters to decide. We will continue to work as hard as anyone and take any opportunity that comes our way.

You recently had your first run on the holiday camps with Kid Fite and co. How was that experience? Getting to wrestle so much in a short period, do you feel it helped your learning process a lot?

I had a 9/10 week run wrestling the best in the UK 5 days a week. If I wasn’t working them, BT Gunn and/or Kid fite gave me feedback after every one of they matches. So to answer your question it made me much better. At my stage of development what I was crying out for was reps. Consistent work, improving my wrestling and fine tuning my character. Thanks to Kid Fite giving me the nod I got all of that this summer. There is a long way to go for me and I have a lot of improving still to do but the camp run made huge improvements to myself.

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How would you describe your character? Like if I’d never seen you do your thing, how would you sum yourself up? Just a mad patter merchant that loves scuddin cunts?

Fito (clown owes me a fiver for plugging him so much on this) likes to describe me as “Lous big mosher brother” I think for a one sentence answer that’s the best.
Just a mad patter merchant that loves scudding folk is my tinder bio.
It was actually an interview with the bold Fito conducted in Kriegers car that made me pay particular attention to him, and sure as fuck he proved to be the standout on the trainee show PBW were running in Greenock that night. So a plug for a plug int it. If the guy who does the single greatest snap suplex in wrestling thinks yer decent, you must be doing something right. 
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You’re a PBW academy graduate. Tell us a bit about the school and what sets it apart from the others? Who have your main influences been during training?

One of the great things is that there are loads of top schools in Scotland each trained by people who have a wealth of experience. For me PBW has been brilliant, TJ Rage and Kid Fite trained me and they are very much believers of you get out exactly what you put in. If they see how bad you want it they will do everything in their power to make it happen for you. I am a prime example of that. If you work your arse off for they two they will give it back tenfold. My biggest training influences (outwith my trainers) is probably Kenny Williams. Kenny has only taken training a handful of times whilst I have attended but he started where I did and look where he is now. One of the very best in Europe

You make your first (I believe) main roster ICW appearance soon. Has becoming a regular there been a goal for you, and how do you intend to make that happen?

Anyone who says they wouldn’t want to be an ICW roster member is at the noise up. Of course that’s a goal but, at the moment, possibly unrealistic for myself. My immediate goal is to solidify my place in the promotions I work for in Scotland and build on my work down south. If I can do that and make a bit of a buzz around myself then ICW could become a regular thing but only if I continue to work hard and improve.

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So you tag with TJ Rage and Lou King Sharp. One big, one wee. Aw the dynamics. The big question is, who’d ye like better?

Fuck me. Both teams bring their own benefits and challenges. Both of them are extremely talented and I need to be at my best to not look out of place when I team with either of them. I appreciate the help both these guys continue to give me.
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The classic “I prefer the wee guy but don’t want the big guy to leather me” response. Safe but respectful. Hopefully reading this wee bit means big TJ will batter him anyway for a giggle.
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With Scottish/British wrestling going through a “boom” period right now, how much of a buzz is it to be slap bang in the middle of it trying to carve out a name for yourself in an era where opportunities are plentiful?
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The generation that have came before us have taken Scottish wrestling to a level never thought possible. They are the reason people like myself have the opportunity to hone our craft in front of packed out venues up and down the country. Without their hard work none of us would stand a chance. It undoubtedly is easier for us to make a break nowadays but fuck me we don’t half have a hard job following this group of wrestlers.
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Who were your wrestling influences growing up? Anyone in particular you try to channel through your own work?
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Growing up it was the attitude era guys as I’m sure krieger10most 22 year olds would say. In terms of people who I try to replicate I would probably say Michael Hayes. Guy was a big flamboyant guy who could either make a crowd love him or hate him, if I can replicate that even 50% we might have something.
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No gonnae lie, got a wee semi for that answer. Being a generic pants n kickpads wrestler man is fine, but unless you’re flawless at the grapplin’ it’ll go nowhere. Be a fuckin freebird and be something. 
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Anyone on the scene you’ve yet to aim the scuddin boots at but would like the chance to? 
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A few cause it’s too hard to just say one Stevie Xavier. Guy is a class act. Never seen him have a bad match. Aaron Echo, never really crossed paths despite training almost exact the same amount of time.
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Aaron Echo vs Krieger for the PBW Title will happen one day. Mark my wildly speculative words.
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What’s the big aim for Krieger? What are you personally looking to get out of this wrestling carry-on? 
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The big aim is to make a living from this carry on. I want to get to a level where this can be my full time job. In order to do that I have a lot of improving to do, so immediate plan is to continue to ask anyone and everyone for advice and make the most of every opportunity I get.
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Last but not least, tell us literally anything ye like. Plug yer social media if ye want. Tell us yer favourite sweetie. Favourite juice to enjoy in glass bottle form. Whitever ye fancy ma man.
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PBW academy has schools in Greenock, Barrhead and Airdrie every Sunday.
PBW has launched its on demand service where you can see any PBW show soon after its been. This includes Noam Dars last match for PBW(me and lou pure scudded him) that time me and Lou battered two power rangers. That other time me and Lou scudded Wolfie and Hearto just cause we could and soon our glorious tag title win.
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BCW needs no plugging as it sells out 3 month in advance nowadays but they have given me so many opportunities I need to to thank them here.
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Twitter- @kriegerPBW
Instagram- @KriegerPBW
www.facebook.com/KriegerPBW/

 


Big thank you to the massively talented David J.Wilson for the photos and to big Krieger for his time. Talented dude. Lots of charisma and seems to be finding his niche so keep an eye out and come and see his ICW main roster debut at The Garage the night before Fear and Loathing at The Hydro. 

Bon Voyage Noam. We Hardly Knew Ye.

noamprofAugust the somethingth 2012. I stood in The Garage nightclub for only the second time ever, eyes fixed on this wee wrestling ring with a patchwork blue canvas that looked like someone had stapled a B n Q tarpaulin on the actual canvas underneath to cover up some unsightly blood or spunk stains. Honestly, aside from being aware of Grado thanks to my pals who had been at the show previous going “check this funny wee cunt oot! he wears a bloody bumbag!” and being told Lionheart had wrestled for both TNA and WWE (probably because he had taken great pleasure in announcing it at the previous show, but thats neither here nor there m8s, bow down to your Zero-G king) I had absolutely no idea what to expect from ICW. This mad Scottish Wrestling thing that had built up a bit of a cult following thanks to some chaotic shows in Glasgow’s City Centre and a late night TV show cancellation because some helmet spending his Da’s money didn’t think there was any problem firing things like blood soaked brawls and grown men attacking each with dildo’s on at 6 in the fucking morning. The night began with this wee fuckin probable chino wearing, hair swooped to the side, smiling at you like he’s better than you in every way shape or form arrogant wee cunt cutting a promo about exactly how much better he is than you. About how your maw thinks of him as “the son she never had” and they talk about you behind yer back. Basically, what I seen in front of my very eyes was a wee dick. That wee dick had his arrogant promo interrupted by Wolfgang and they had a match that very quickly told me this ICW caper was nae fuckin joke. That arrogant wee dick would go on to conquer the world. That arrogant wee dick was Noam Dar.

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That was probably the only show I attended that he portrayed that character and he very quickly shed the cockyness to become one of my personal favourites on the scene, thanks to his unrelenting wrestling talent and general being a sound cunt-ness, but that match with Wolfgang stuck out because it was the very first match I’d seen at a Scottish Wrestling show and well….if this wee 18 year old, who looks like he weighs 4 stone soaking wet can be this good…..how good are the rest of the cunts on this show? As it turned out, ICW were spoiling us by opening the show with two of the very best but even after the show that thought lingered. How in the name of god can this cunt be 18 and be better at wrestling than I’ve ever been at anything? When I was 18 my two main achievements in life were beating the second ranked player overall in the world at Pro Evolution Soccer, and my da getting me Paul Dickov’s autograph at a charity night. This wee cunt’s going toe to toe with behemoths like Wolfgang and knocking them stupid with all sorts of mad kicks and things that bend your legs in ways that legs are not supposed to bend. That first year of attending shows cemented the love for Noam’s talent. A main event spot against his pal Lionheart at Oran War showcased his ability to captivate an audience well before he’d gained the experience necessary to be so unspeakably good at it. As a cunt a solid 4 years older and decidedly less talented it was difficult to figure out if I was possessed by envy at his talent or just completely captivated by it but either way, I needed to see more of whatever sorcery was at play to create the fuckin magic he comes up with in that ring.

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As would be the case with any teenager told that the world one would day be theirs from a very young age, there were teething problems. Being one of the few talents coveted both north and south of the border he could pick and choose his shows and sometimes those choices perhaps brought the ire of the promotions who gave him the opportunities to get to the stage where he was seen as a must have talent for promotions up and down the UK, but at the end of the day, that’s no Noam’s fault and making that early impression down south was no doubt essential in making him the performer he is today. Cause fuck yer comfort zone. Swap it for a miserable 10 hour megabus hellride and get doon to that London to snap peoples knees in half. Its what god, yer maw, yer da and and aw yer mad uncles intended for him. ICW has always been his home though. ICW was the place that made him. As he said in his own words last night, when he walked into the Community Centre in Maryhill, his life changed forever.

He always thought the pinnacle of his wrestling career would be one day making it to WWE, but on the 8 year journey he took to get there, he found a wrestling education and a home in ICW. Last night, he finally flew the nest. Its a natural thing in life to move on from the place you grew up in, and as much as I hope he comes and says hello whenever he can, it’ll be a sad day if we ever see him in ICW in a professional capacity again. That will mean they didn’t see it. They didn’t see what 700 folk were on the verge of simultaneous tears over in The Garage last night as he gave us one last masterclass against arguably his best opponent and one of his best mates in Andy Wild. The gift he possesses and the age he is should mean this is a lifetime gig for him, and if Fergal Devitt can make it to the very top, you better fuckin believe Noam Dar can follow suit. This isnae just a talented wee guy for the Cruiserweight Division they’ve signed, this is a guy, if given ample opportunities, can be a leading man in the world’s leading wrestling company so if he’s ever on an ICW show again professionally, ye can assume Vinny Mac has fucked it. Just like he did with The Chosen One, but this time with The Special Wan.

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Of course the ending had to be beautiful. It couldn’t be any other way could it. Andy Wild was the Zero-G Champion right as ICW were on the cusp of big shit. He was on the first two 1,000 plus sellout shows, and stole one of those shows in a match with Noam that really had no right to be match of the night. A card loaded with heated feuds and “money fights” and a couple of pals having a scrap for the fuck of it blew the rest of it out the water. So Noam used his final match to pay it forward. Shining a bright light on a tremendous talent we should all be more aware of and having another absolute stormer of a match, ending with an emphatic sitout powerbomb to give Andy Wild the win. Paying it forward to the guy who grew up with him in wrestling, and showing his appreciation for the guy who might have taken a slightly different path in wrestling and life, but is a bigger part of Noam’s success than anyone really knows. While his farewell words encouraged the fans to continue to support ICW as a company and the talent in the back, he’ll hope beyond hope that a byproduct of his departure sees the re-emergence of Andy Wild as a regular in ICW. The guy who beat that guy fae the WWE, ye know the wan? wee Jewish fella? Cruiserweight classic? Robbed aff the ever so bendy probably at least 75% elastic Zack Sabre Jr? Aye. Ye ken who I mean. Yer a smart kid. It was classy to give up having one last win in ICW knowing how much the win would do for Andy Wild and it was just a reflection on how classy the wee cunt is in general.

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So for that magical night in The Garage where you overcame Drew Galloway to keep a hold of your job, being swept aff the upper tier balcony like an empty pint tumbler in the process, we thank you Noam. For that beautiful best of 5 feud with Joe Coffey, for my money the best pure wrestling feud I’ve seen in ICW, we thank you Noam. For every single time you and Andy Wild stole the show across the past 5-6 years, we thank you Noam. For the fun and games of The Pinky Party in the last few weeks, we thank you Noam. For every dive, every kneebar, every wrist kiss, every time ye namedropped “Martin Smiff wae the big beard” in a promo (so one time) every single anything you’ve done in ICW and Scottish Wrestling in general, we thank you Noam. Naw fuck it, I thank you Noam. Personally. For making each and every show you were ever on that much more fun. Just by being you. Thank you for being the reason Sha Samuels is allowed to smile on shows now, because how the fuck could ye not if Grado and Noam are yer best pals? He might be the best villain in Europe but in ICW at least, he’s now better known as the worlds angriest good guy, but there was nae anger last night. Only genuine emotion from Noam himself, Sha, Grado on facetime fae America (to the one cunt who gied it “Fuck TNA” when they seen Grado, fuck up and fuck off) everyone gathered on the stage to say their goodbyes. The sold out crowd chanting his name over and over and over until they couldn’t chant it anymore. Until the tears took over. Thank you Noam. He’ll see things we’ll never see, but the memories will live forever.

Thank you to David J.Wilson and Robbie from Warrior Fight Photography for the photos. And thank you to Noam Dar for being Noam Dar. Have I said that enough? One more time wae feeling eh.  WE LOVE YOU NOAM…WE DO…WE LOVE YOU NOAM…WE DO…WE LOVE YOU NOAM …WE DO…OHHHH NOAM WE LOVE YOU. 

Aw the best. xx catch ye 😉

 

ICW Fight Club Review (September 2nd 2016)

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Folk are very split about this Team Dallas vs Team Black Label carry on. People don’t like aspects of the storyline. Seen it before. As much as I understand where that point of view comes from, without this storyline we don’t get Red Lightning. Well we might have him in some capacity, but this version of him? Nah. Even at a 50/50 split in the ownership he’s still at his brilliant best. Wielding that power, and basically existing as a walking middle finger thrust right in the crowd’s face. He came out and immediately tore Simon Cassidy to shreds, after our esteemed ring announcer tore his “nephews” the rich kids to bits on one of the Asylum shows. Rounding off the tirade with a brutally emphatic “yer shite”. He’s no shite, but that’s how good Red is at being the perennial baddie. He can deliver absolute out-and-out lies with such conviction that you at least believe HE believes them, and for a wee second ye actually wonder if Simon Cassidy is actually shite.

He then went on to explain how Wolfgang was most certainly NOT shite, and the shiny gold thing round his waist was proof of that. This is the part I don’t get about folk not being into the storyline,  because on more than one occasion as a fan, you’ve been sent home raging. Joe  Coffey won the ICW Title and Wolfgang cashed in his shot at the most logical time and folk considered that to be some kind of insult. Unless Joe was to somehow get run err by a bin lorry or suhin, catching him seconds after he’s just produced a monumental effort to beat Big Damo was fuckin smart, and you’re supposed to be sent home raging sometimes. Progress sent their fans home raging for the best part of two years when Jimmy Havoc was champion and do you know why they did that? Cause cunts bought they tickets mate. Cunts snapped them up, cause they wanted to see if the next show would be the one where he’d  finally get what was coming to him. Judging by the amount of bodies in the ABC for Shugs 3 and the amount of bodies in The Garage for this taping, it would appear the moaning means fuck all, and for every person who thinks this storyline is shite, another 5 are buying tickets to the next show, just in case that’s the one where someone finally puts Red Lightning on his arse. Just in case thats the one where Wolfgang’s opponent picks up the brass knucks and knocks the big bad wolf the fuck out before taking his shiny pride and joy aff him. Dallas eventually stoated out and threatened to strip the BELT aff him if he laid a finger on him, so instead he laida finger and many other body parts on DCT. The man who answered his challenge for an ICW Title match, only problem was, he answered that challenge with a concussion….

Wolfgang (c) vs DCT – (ICW Title Match)

People should really have a long hard think before they wrestle Wolfgang in general. Big tank of a cunt who can fly, and has a wee button on the side of his haun that turns his knuckles into brass plated death instruments. Deciding to wrestle Wolfgang with a fuckin concussion is just ill-advised. Dallas reluctantly and perhaps mistakenly agreed to let the match go ahead despite DCT not having medical clearance and adrenaline carried him through the early stages and scoops were being dished out left, right and centre before DCT’s shaggin legs finally gave oot. Aw they years of having to support the weight of aw the heavy-set burds he rode in The Savoy’s toilets finally took its toll, or maybe it was the concussion or something, but either way, he collapsed, and so did his chances of becoming the ICW Champion.

He battled bravely, but wrestling a guy who already had a size and power advantage over you while you have a concussion and he disnae, and he has two pairs of brass knucks tucked in to his boots and you don’t is…silly. Wolfgang jabbed fuck out the resilient International Sex Hero, before a popup powerbomb and a one-two knockout combination with the double brass knucks led to Thomas Kearins calling it. DCT was laid the fuck out, and the big bad wolf had made an almighty statement. Don’t fuck with the guy wae the shiny waist and even shinier knuckles. He will leave you lying in a pool of yer ain mess.

Kenny Williams vs Aaron Echo

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Honestly thought he’d have got sick of them long before now, but it appears Aaron Echo’s affiliation with the Hi-Tec hat wearing walking scudbooks that make up the rest of “The Rich Kids” is stronger than ever. He is the triumphant boaby and they’re his annoying pubeless baws, and they either need to drop naturally or Echo needs to drop them by force. Pretty sure there’s a metaphor hidden in there somewhere but long before Echo was a rich kid, him and his auld pal Kenny done battle in one of Echo’s first ICW matches in a match that experts called a “stoater” so we could expect more of the same here eh? Especially with oor Kenny having an almighty bee in his bonnet having been handed the ICW Zero-G Title at Shugs 3 only to have it snatched back off him immediately.

Kenny was in frantic slingin’ elbows fae aw angles mode early on, before a sentient scrotum in a green jaisket held his leg when he went up to the to rope, causing a worrying looking situation where it appeared that Echo was going to suplex Kenny right into the area of the crowd I was standing in. No needin a Kenny Williams slung at me big man, please refrain from throwing any Kenny Williamses at this time. Instead Echo set him up for that sare looking slingshot double stomp thing he does with the opponent set up in the corner leading to a display of dominance that was only derailed when his pals got involved again, as Kenny pretended to be dead while one of them held him awkwardly for about 10 minutes before Echo realised and jumped oot, Kenny of course moved out the road and Echo walloped his pal before we got back to the scintillating in-ring goodness. Kenny went for the middle rope clothesline and was met by Echo’s newly baldy dome, before a second attempt at it hit home. Anytime the match was looking like the absolute cracker they produced before, one of chuckle brothers got involved and fucked it. As Kenny went for a sunset flip, Echo held on to the middle rope and his wee pals held on to him, enabling him to get a very cheaty win. 

Echo departed by telling the commentary team that his win would be the start of something good. I sincerely hope it is for him and he goes on to batter aw the cunts (eventually his two pals at some point anaw surely) but it could also be the start of something good for Kenny. It was the first time after a loss where he looked genuinely downtrodden as if he was looking for answers and that could mean the time travelling “General Bollocks” happy go lucky caper becomes a thing of the past, and we’ll get Kenny pulling his hair out after defeats and cutting holes in his skinnies as he slowly transitions into a moody wee menthol fag smoking “AH HATE EVERYCUNT, ESPECIALLY MA MAW!” goth. 

Lewis Girvan vs Colt Cabana

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This was…..aye. Odd. Tense as fuck. You could tell during his entrance this wasn’t the Irn Jew Colt. This wasn’t the excited to be wrestling with or against Grado, Colt. It seemed like a Colt Cabana who didn’t really want to be there. Everyone seen all the patter on Twitter about it so obviously something happened between the two of them, but ultimately, who cares? I’m pretty sure folk have disputes a lot in wrestling, maybe some people don’t actually like each other, but fans shouldnae be able to notice that. There’s still a job to be done and while the match was actually hugely enjoyable, there was something off. Colt wasn’t his usual self, and there was a team of folk to my left who were extremely excited to see him when he came out. Folk like that deserved a bit better, but who am I to judge him? Maybe he had the cauld, or he was right nervous about making it back to Edinburgh in time for his last show of the Fringe, but either way, him looking not that fussed to be there, and leaving after his win like there was a moving car going past The Garage that he had to jump in to left a bit of a sour taste.

See if there’s genuine friction between them, they should maybe sit down together and watch the match at some point in their lives. Actually sit and take it in, because when they weren’t nipple crippling each other and generally drawing each other daggers, they worked well together. Match was loaded with sexy wee pinning combinations and Girvan brought all the skills out in Colt. I suppose folk who despise each other do have history for having good matches together. Bret Hart very rarely ever had a bad match and he hates everycunt, so it can be done. At one point Colt started dishin out mad chops and slaps to the chest and there was something unsettling real about it all. He held him in a front facelock for about an hour afterwards, clearly worried he’d annoyed his young opponent to the point where he might have decided to bite his ear aff and spit it at him. Everyone kept their ears. Instead Colt won with a wee rollup and was gone within 20 seconds of that win.

I’m really not having that the reason he left so swiftly was that he had a show to make in Edinburgh. Having a show to make in Edinburgh doesn’t prevent you from spending a minute with the crowd. Pretty much looked like he didn’t want to be within 100 feet of Lewis Girvan and that was the reason for his swift departure but at the end of the day, no matter what went down with them, Colt still won. Surely that should evoke enough happiness to at least dish out a high five to someone with one of yon Cabanarama heidbands on. A wee part of me was quite sad it was over because I enjoyed many aspects of the match, but it was also quite awkward to watch at times. If I wanted to watch cunts who proper hate each other have a scrap I’d lead a group of Celtic fans to Andy Goram on the day of an old firm game. That’s no what the wrestling’s for. Be good to each other.

Krobar vs Iestyn Rees

Fuckin huge shame for Krobar but very early in the match he took a right sore hit off one of the barriers and the match had to be stopped. A strange way for big Iestyn to get his first ICW win and he didn’t seem to want the match stopped, but it had to be. Krobar took a sore yin and looked out the game immediately after. It was definitely the right call to end it before further damage was done. Hopefully another opportunity comes his way soon.

Stevie Boy vs BT Gunn

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He’s a right wee bad bastard these days but how can you be a human wrestling fan and not love Stevie? He comes out to the best tune ever invented on this planet we call earth, and batters folk in the most palatable way possible. Everything he does in that ring is just “aye…aye mate….keep daein that” to the point that there’s maybe only one wrestler out there that might be very slightly better at wrestling in that combative style and that happens to be the guy he’d be facing in this here match. This is maybe the third or fourth time they’ve wrestled in singles in ICW and for me this was the pick of the bunch. Something so much more natural about the dynamic where Stevie is the baddie and BT has all the crowd support. It just worked and this match was an utter stormer from start to finish.

It more like an episode of Gladiators than a wrestling match when these two batter each other. They are pretty much a pair of walking assault courses and when they collide, it leads to a lot of assault. A lot of kicks to the face, and chops designed to dislodge ribs. If they did end up teaming together regularly when they were both in the NAK, they would have definitely done the tag team division Just-Uz (ye see the joke there is….ah you get it, yer a smart kid) but they are so much better suited as enemies. Stevie spat right in his foe/best pal’s face and away they went. Rapid jabs from both before BT levelled Stevie with a sickening chop. The tone had been set. A chair was immediately introduced and coincidently referee Thomas Kearins took a seat moments later. The chair was involved but instead of sitting on it he got cracked over the napper with it, a moment that caused Stevie and BT to briefly halt their attempts to kill each other before quickly getting right back in to kicking each other square in the jaw. Shots each. The ref being down isn’t a huge problem when a superkick party is happening, but BT ended the sequence with a Tiger Bomb and there was naecunt to count the pin. That’s when John Anderson being oot the game needs dealt with, so in came…eh…I don’t know the name of any other refs in Gladiators so this is falling on its arse. It was Sean McLaughlin to the rescue, sliding in to count a 2 on Stevie. The crowd were counting before he arrived, but you do not have the counting expertise of Sean so please do not interfere with his work in the future.

More than his work got interfered with moments later as he also fell victim to chair-err-the-napper-itis, an illness that appears to be claiming referee’s up and down the country. John Rowbottom woke up wae a sare heid the other morning, nae idea why. Its spreading. So with Sean out, BT once again found himself with no-cunt to count his pin, and during his futile attempts to wake one of the deid refs up, Stevie hit the Destroyer on a chair. Still nae ref. We’ve only got 2. Gladiators might have had more actually, so it probably would have helped if this was actually an episode of Gladiators, but luckily for Stevie, Kearins was stirring and he woke up just in time to count a two on BT and go straight back to sleep thanks to a right hook to the temple from Stevie. A cautionary tale. If you come within 100 feet of Stevie Boy and BT Gunn fighting, yer gonnae end up catching something to the jaw and going to sleep. Be it a stray kick, punch or pool cue. Its happening. BT responded to the latest ref casualty with a brainbuster on to a chair. This time it was Sean’s turn to wake up briefly and count the two, causing BT Gunn to fire into a blind rage and decapitate Sean on the spot. Samurai sword took his heid clean aff. Nah I jest, he survived long enough to see Stevie split BT’s skull in half with a thunderous chairshot, before BT somehow managed to perform a top rope Angle Slam with his skull split in half. Remarkable feat that somehow STILL didn’t get the job done. Stevie didn’t even get his full arm up, he just shifted his shoulder off the canvas and no more. A top rope Angle Slam mate. That would be enough to slay a giant. That would put John Cena away ffs. But no Stevie. No the day.

He made it to his knees. Defiant. Three members of the NAK decided to split the group up that night back in March, but he’s adamant it was his doing. The mastermind. The mad reverend. BT Gunn is the kind of guy who has trigger points. Words you can say that cause a reaction in his brain. Whenever someone speaks of any kind of death of the NAK, he’s fuckin off. You’ve brought this on yourself. A couple of beautiful kicks to the jaw followed by a Destroyer from BT finally brought it to an end. The match anyway. As gutted as he would have been to lose the match, it was still all to play for on Stevie’s end. The end game was never winning a wrestling match, it was always killing BT Gunn.

There seemed to a semblance of respect between them immediately after the match before Stevie went for blood. He placed BT’s head in a chair before kicking it, causing the immediate death of BT Gunn. He then put another chair round his neck and hit that chair with ANOTHER chair. Pretty much mutilating a dead body in public at that point before disappearing through the curtain as if it was nothing. If Stevie Boy isn’t the best villain in ICW right now, show me who is. Who else is so fuckin outwardly evil with nae moments of relief? There’s nae wee funny moments with Stevie, nae one liners, he’s just a mad killer and when he’s given a platform like the one he had with BT, he shines.

Cheers to David J.Wilson for the excellent photo at the top of the page.

 

 

ICW Shugs House Party 3 Preview

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On the 4th of November 2012, ICW hosted Fear and Loathing 5 in The Classic Grand. At that time I still didn’t know a huge amount about the company but I’d already seen Stevie Boy jumping off a balcony, Big Damo (medium-sized Damo at that time) run a cheese grater over Jimmy Havoc’s heid, and the debut of Fergal Devitt in ICW, up against Wolfgang in a match that completely changed the way I saw wrestling as an adult, so I knew I was interested in whatever the fuck this mental shit was. The main event that night was supposed to be a fatal 4 way between the former members of a stable known as The Gold Label for Red Lightning’s ICW Title, but a personal issue meant James Scott was unable to compete in the match. Would have been easy enough to explain the situation and still go with the triple threat eh? Maybe even more simple in terms of keeping the story about The Gold Label storyline coming full circle, but instead Mark Dallas chucked a 19 year old Noam Dar in at the deep end and the special talent we see trotting all over the globe bringing joyous Judaism to the masses didn’t disappoint. Putting in a fine performance before being eliminated first and allowing the storyline to play out in his absence. The fact that Dallas wanted him in that main event when a spot opened up, and the fact that he had been booking him since he was 16 is proof that while Noam Dar has always been an immense talent, that talent needs a platform before it really matters a fuck, and ICW gave Noam Dar a platform to grow in front of mature, at times more difficult audiences than he would ever face on family friendly shows. ICW, Mark Dallas, and Noam Dar have forever been synonymous with each other and at a time where Noam Dar’s star has never shone brighter, he has the chance, alongside his best pal and a partner yet to revealed, to write himself into ICW folklore before no doubt jetting off into the sunset to become everyone’s favourite Scottish jew at the performance centre.

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While Noam Dar was in main events for the ICW Title as far back as 2012, Joe Coffey was almost a mythical figure back then. I’d been to a few shows and heard a bit about him but was yet to see him wrestle. He was that guy over in Japan learning his craft. It was only when I eventually did see him in ICW in a match against Sean Maxer, that it became apparent why people had been talking about him even in his absence. Joe Coffey could fucking go. Between that match and where he is now, he’s went on a journey that’s seen him add various strings to an already impressive bow and on the same night Noam Dar has the chance to make his name part of ICW legend, Joe Coffey also has the opportunity of a lifetime at his feet. A match in the main event of an IPPV against one of the most heralded talents in Europe and good friend into the bargain in Big Damo for the richest prize in European Wrestling. That’s what the ICW Title is, like it or not. The audience you are exposed to as ICW Champion is bigger than any audience you might be exposed to holding anyone else’s belt in Europe, and Joe Coffey has earned this. He earned it with show making and on the odd occasion show saving performances in that ring, and there’s no doubt in my mind that even though its took a while to get there, the position Noam Dar and Joe Coffey find themselves on the eve of a huge show and ICWs first IPPV on the Fite Network is one that reflects the immense amount of talent they possess. Folk like to talk about how politics and the auld pals act allows others to have opportunities they deserve in wrestling but fuck aw that. Its shite and it always has been. If you’re good enough and you work hard enough, you’ll get to where you want to be no matter what and there’s no doubt this is where Joe Coffey and Noam Dar want to be. The main fuckin men. The boys who could be kings.

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

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When the bold Hearto won the Zero-G in April, it didn’t immediately feel like it might be a long-term thing. If you said he’d defend against Kenny a few months later at the time you’d probably reckon it was Kenny’s belt. His first run with it was excellent and he lost a lot of momentum when he dropped it to Danny Hope over a year ago now, so it would make all the sense to fire it back on him but then Lionheart fucked it for everyone by being stupidly good at being Zero-G Champion. There haven’t been many better matches in Scotland this year than Lionheart vs BT Gunn for the Zero-G Title, and Lionheart has been tremendous for months now. If you think hating him means he must be shite, yer just not getting it pal. That means he’s got you eating out the palm of the hand he lays the smack down wae, and you’re gonnae hit rock bottom when you see him retain that belt (I wish I was more sorry for that patter, but I’m sittin giggling away to myself about it so fuck ye) and the more upset you get about his success the more it fuels him to be as much of a dick as possible in plain sight. The match could sneak in the back door and steal MOTN, but regardless of its quality, I fancy Hearto to retain. The possibilities of dickishness that come with him continuing to be Zero-G Champion are endless, especially if Dallas gets back to 50/50 and has some sort of scope to fuck with him a bit. Don’t get me wrang here guys n gals, if Kenny wins it he’ll do another standup job with it but with the help of mild shenanigans I reckon Hearto will retain and oh boy, they will boo hard and they will boo long.

Predicition – Kenny Williams commandeers a milk van, drives it into the ABC and gives everyone in attendance a free pint of semi skimmed, completely transforming his gimmick from being the back to the future guy, to being the guy who makes sure your diet has sufficient calcium. Or ye knew….Lionheart retains.

Final Of The ICW Tag Title Tournament – The Local Fire vs Bird and Boar or The 55

It was a gutter when Polo Promotions announced they were done with ICW and we’re probably past the stage of asking its actually legit and not a part of some elabourate storyline involving strike action and the long awaited creation of a wrestlers union. It certainly weakens the tag division to not have talent like that involved in or indeed leading it, but you can only work with the tools at your disposal and the tag tournament up until this point has been entertaining as fuck. Moustache Mountain vs The Filthy Generation had a proper old school ICW feel to it, heavy on gid patter and even heavier on right gid wrestling, and with Joe Hendry and Davey Boy booking their place in the final in Manchester last night that leaves one spot up for grabs to be taken by either The 55 or a cuttla mad Welsh yins called Bird and Boar. With the greatest of respects paid to Bird and Boar, it would be very odd if they’re on ICWs first IPPV and an established ICW team like The 55 aren’t. Having said that, if Bird and Boar win it opens up the possibility of Sha Samuels turning face and joining his real life bestos Grado and Noam Dar in the big 6 man, and how fuckin tremendous would that be? Sha Samuels should never ever ever ever everrrrr be asked to play the good guy. Why would you ask the best villain in British Wrestling to be anything other than a bad bastard? But for one night only it would be sound and cute if the three amigos were allowed to be amigos in the wrestling instead of just cuttin about Silverburn together gien wedgies out to any wee geek that looks twice at them. Feel like we got a bit off topic there.

Prediction – The 55 win in Birmingham and in Glasgow, become 2 time champions, and volley a priest in celebration because that’s whit hard bastards dae when they win shiny belts. Unless the hard bastards are catholics, then the priests volley them. With their boabies.

DCT vs Bram (Steel Cage Match)

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When DCT took a literal whipping off Jack Jester around 2 years ago, it was all leading to this. He might as well have whipped his massive baws out, sat them down on the ring apron and went “this right here…this is whit DCT’s workin with…OH!” because he took a fuckin vicious beating and never asked for anything in return. The exposure from being in a match with the ICW Champion at that time was enough to justify getting brutally leathered and now he has a steel cage match on an IPPV against a guy fae TNA. If you’d have told DCT back then, he would have most likely believed you tbh. He’s a guy who has worked his aforementioned giant baws off, so why the fuck wouldn’t he believe you. No matter if he doesn’t even get to chuck a punch at Bram’s exceedingly jabbable face, getting here is victory in itself, but imagine the scenes if the bold yin won. Imagine the carnage if the International Sex Hero calls upon his 15 inch emergency erection and uses the fucker as a javelin pole to propel himself to the outside without even having to fight the big bastard. I mean he probably wants to get a few dunts in after the cunt piledriver’d his wife through a big cake and that, but if it can be avoided and victory is still his he probably widnae mind that much. It won’t be flippy, it won’t be a catch as catch can classic. It’ll be two guys throwing each other about a big steel box, one attempting to avenge a moustache that was cruelly taken from him and a wife with a cake shaped dent in her skull, while the perprator of those crimes doing what he loves best. Knocking fuck out of cunts and being a pure unadultarated dick about it.

Prediction – DCT wins and his tash grows back immediately after the referee’s hand slaps the mat for the 3. 

Legion vs Moustache Mountain and Lewis Girvan

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If it unfolds as yer run of the mill,major incident free 6 man tag it’ll be a cracker. That’s what tends to happen when 6 very talented wrestlers combine in 6 man action to settle such matters, but there’s nae way some kind of massive storyline shit isn’t occurring here. There’s too many variables for something big not to go down. Rumours are rife that Tommy End is heading off to pastures new, Trent cost The Sumerian Death Squad their match in the tag tournament, and while they do enjoy battering fuck out each other, there’s clearly a mutual respect between Trent and Whiplash. Whiplash accepting a handshake from Trent when he’d knocked back the offer from the likes of Damo and Joe Coffey in the weeks before says it all. If the result of it is somehow Tommy End vs Mikey Whiplash in ICW, it can’t be a bad thing, but something’s happening. I smell some kind of Trent and Whiplash alliance but maybe I’m way off base. Maybe all 6 of them will stop fighting 5 minutes in, look at each other and go “mon we’ll patch this and be best pals” and all of a sudden you’ve got a 6 man stable of killing machines. Intrigued as fuck by this no matter what happens, and even if Whiplash and Trent do somehow end up on the same side, I hope we see some mouth-watering wrestling from them that makes you openly question how both of them are still alive.

Prediction – Cody Rhodes shows up in full Stardust gear with his hands cupped, before opening them to reveal a dove. The dove starts singing “fuck yer tea….we want Coffey” while the 5 fans in attendance who get the reference nod in acknowledgement, before it flys on to Billy Kirkwoods shoulder and stays there for the remainder of the show, occasionally giving Billy a wee peck on the cheek. 

Team Dallas vs The Black Label (Team Dallas must win for Dallas to remain part of ICW and regain a 50% stake in the company)

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With people assuming the third man on Team Dallas will somehow be Renfrew, they might be forgetting the bold BT Gunn also declared himself a Mark Dallas guy the same night Renfrew did, and while it never needs any declaration, there’s also the small matter of BT Gunn being one of the finest wrestlers on planet earth, so why the fuck wouldn’t he be the third guy? I reckon now that it’ll be BT Gunn with Renfrew somehow getting involved and tipping it in Team Dallas’ favour before Dallas re-instates him on RAW the next night (PPVs on a Sunday are followed by RAW on a Monday ok, that’s how wrestling works. I really hope I don’t have to teach you this again) Folk are getting hung up on the possible outcome and that’s all well and good, but the make-up of the match could make it an absolute stoater. Noam Dar vs Drew is always outstanding. Drew vs anyone on planet earth is usually pretty nifty if we’re giving the big evil bastard his due. For me Jack Jester’s best opponent is Grado and they’ll get to lock horns at least a wee bit and Wolfgang could drag a good match out of Viscera. No even 500 pound, could barely move when he was about Viscera, Viscera as he is now. Deid. Whit I’m saying here is that Wolfgang could have a match with a large amount of dead weight and that match would still be good. That’s the joke we’re making, and now that you’ve all laughed yourselves inside out, we’ll proceed with talking about the match. Nae way The Label are winning though, even if its a storyline, I don’t think Dallas would be able to stomach being completely exiled so the fightback starts tonight. Even a team comprised of a Disney prince, a mad chainmail dildo wielding shagger and the big bad wolf wae the sexy suitcase can’t stop Noam, Grado and whoever joins them chalking one up for the good guys. Unless Red Lightning decided to cancel the whole thing, the event itself and wrestling in general. Something that still might happen if we don’t aw shut the fuck up. I don’t even mean at the show mate, I mean right now. Shut it.

Prediction – The third man on Team Dallas turns out to be Jeff Hardy and the match never airs because Brother Nero, and everything ever concerning him both past, present and future has been DELETED!

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

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I love Damo. Ask anycunt. Aside from his ability and obvious physicality setting him apart, he happens to be one of most genuine and nice guys plying his trade in this mad wrestling carry on and its nice to see a cunt who went from perennially flying under the radar get the rewards years of hard work were definitely due. If you have a problem with Big Damo elbowing the living shite out of anyone who tries to take his belt, that would make you very silly indeed. The rules dictate that if Damo wants to elbow everycunt on planet earth to within an inch of their life, he can. He could elbow all 1,000+ in attendance at this show into oblivion and the only people who could take issue with it are the polis and perhaps military reinforcements if he predictably demolishes the whole police force. ICW is no rules unless stated otherwise and in that circumstance, a guy who has the weight advantage over everyone else in the company would be very smart to lean all of that weight on his opponents, enabling him a free shot to pummel fuck out their skull (with elbows, no boabies) so if ye don’t like it? Fuckin lobby for a rule change or button yer lip and watch the big man smash fuck out of everyone in his path. Damo worked his baws off to get in to a position where utilising such tactics means he STAYS on top instead of seeming to be in an endless battle to get there, and there isn’t one opponent out there he’s too proud to knock the fuck out in the name of remaining the ICW World Champion. Or maybe there’s one and only one…

I do love Damo, I said it at the start there and said a lot of things to back that up so we’ve established I love the big barra, but Joe Coffey has always been my guy and this might finally be his time. It’s always been Joe’s belt, even before he knew it and for 3 years he’s been the guy having the best match on the card more consistently than anyone else. He’s been the guy constantly adapting and improving the overall product he puts out there to create the best impression of himself possible and that hard work led to some of the best feuds and even some of the best one-off matches in ICW history. The feuds with James Scott and Noam Dar produced some fine contests, while his one time only wars against Brian Kendrick and Rhyno were both standout encounters on the shows they were on. Twice in a row he’s been voted as wrestler of the year by the fans. The people who pour their hard-earned money in to this wrestling carry on believe in HIM. The mighty wrestler, the Iron Man, the guy who gets paint on everyone, whitever the fuck you want to call Joe Coffey, he has another opportunity to become ICW champion after over a year of almost haggling with Red Lightning to earn it and he might not get another one if he doesn’t prevail. He might be the one exception to the elbows. He might be the one exception to the win at all costs mentality Damo has adopted because (and I might be wrong here, but as far as im aware….) Damo’s last clean defeat in ICW was at the hands of Joe Coffey in an absorbing match Edinburgh and even putting aside the respect he has for Joe, he’ll want to avenge that properly. Above all else, he’ll want to prove he’s better than Joe and while he very well might be, it’s that professional pride that might be his downfall because it gives Joe a chance. It gives him a glimmer of hope, almost like someone briefly whipped Damo’s magnificent beard clean aff and gave Joe a clean look at his chin for one time only. If he gets a split second, he has to take that chance. He has to wind up that arm and aim high and true. If he does that, it might just happen. We might finally see Joe Coffey reach the mountain top. The ICW World Champion. The king of kings.

Prediction – Nae joke shite. I predict this will be match of the night/week/month/year/decade/century/millennium. 

Aside from all that, we have Liam Thomson revealing his true feelings for Debbie Sharpe, which will do well to top Massimo shoving a haggis pizza in his gub but god bless them for giving it a go. There’s also nae women’s title match and Stevie Boy isn’t on the card so who knows where they end up involved. Will Ospreay is about right now, so if they fired Ospreay vs Stevie on the card for shits and giggles that would be my dream, but yer man Ospreay’s injured so who the fuck knows. I reckon one match will happen that isn’t currently on the card but who participates in it is a fuckin mystery. Maybe it’ll be Juventud Guerrera against Rey Mysterio and we can aw kid on its a 1998 Nitro. Shug’s will be gid. There’s still tickets so get them off ticketmaster and go to the show. Bring a pal. Bring 5. Bring a minibus fulla badgers if ye fuckin want. Its aw happenin and you should be there to oversee the happenings.

Cheers to David J.Wilson for the lovely photos I used. 

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!