Fuckin London. Petrified.
Soon as I wis informed its a half hour drive fae the bus station tae the venue, I started freakin the fuck out. A half hour drive between places in the same city? Fuck sake. I’m so gonnae die here. London’s too big. It needs tae be a lot smaller or we’ll aw just end up deid. Or at least wae sick doon us. Right doon the front ae yer jumper. Mom’s spaghetti. Nae two ways about it. It took cunts ages tae get intae a routine wae Edinburgh travel that didnae involve blind panic, and now its London. 8 hours on the bus. Only an ipod and a notepad wae survival strategies scribbled in code tae keep me company. Lets dae it.
Wrestling though. It’s aw for wrestling. It’s aw for showing these English punters what ICW is all about, by filling London fulla confused Scottish people, have them inevitably get frustrated, and start fuckin wreckin the place.