So Ayr’s a lovely toon eh? I know it’s a tad unusual tae start a wrestling review praising the toon the show was held in, but I hadn’t been tae Ayr since I wis a wee yin, and let me tell ye, it’s a delight. The kind of place ye could see yersell strolling through the main street, arm in arm wae yer one true love, hauf bottle of yer finest Blue MD in yer back pocket, headin tae the Toon Hall for a wee bit of the wrasslin. Unfortunately I had nae true love, or MD with me on this expedition, but I did have my driver and I did have a wrestling show at the Toon Hall tae attend. A wrestling show which contained a mixture of the best in UK Talent, and the physical anomaly known as Uhaa Nation. Uhaa fuckin’ Nation. A marvel of a man. I swear, this cunt is a bawhair aff 300 pounds, and we saw him dae a double standing moonsault in what felt like one motion. I dunno if I’ll ever get over that tbh, but before that we had some other guys daein some very entertaining things indeed. Wantae hear about them? Who am I askin. Ye widnae have clicked the link if ye didnae, so mon in n I’ll tell ye eh.
I fired a few questions at Chris Renfrew before Still Smokin a couple of months back. It was supposed to be part of another blog I was writing, but I’ve no had the time to go back and finish it and now hauf of it isnae relevant. I thought the answers here were worth putting up on their own though, so aye. Here they are. 5 Questions wae Chris Renfrew.
Fuckin London man. Before we get tae what was a belter of a wrestling show, I’d like tae give ye a few tips on how tae survive this hunner mile an hour pit of terror if you’ve yet tae experience its wonder. Firstly, if ye get on the London Underground…that’s yer first mistake right there. Don’t dae it. I’d been on it 5 minutes, when it made its first stop and a wuman actually dragged her son aff the train by the throat. The problem wae that is that I was between her and her son and she managed tae drag him off without me moving. I swear tae fuck this wean passed through me like a fuckin ghost or somethin. A chill raced doon my spine as I seen him emerge fae me like I was a magic lamp, and he wis poppin oot tae grant somecunt three wishes. Second tip I’ll gie ye is for Scottish folk only. London does not go at our pace. Glesga pace is leisurely. Even if its gaun a bit quicker than ye’d like, naecunt will shoulder barge ye oot the road if you’re choosing tae cruise. Minimum speed for pedestrian travel in London is 50mph. Ye fall below that, cunts will make a point of clattering any luggage they have with them aff yer dome. If they knock a tooth out, they present it tae ye as a warning. “Speed up, or we take aw yer front teeth….warned”
I jest though. From the little I seen of it, London seemed gid. Its essentially Glasgow without the Sectarianism or sense of belonging. Its essentially Glasgow but bigger, faster and the supporters of English fitba teams are actually English and not glory hunting wanks. Its essentially Glesga but its no. Its just no. Its no Glesga.
Was heartening tae hear aw the ICW chants in the queue. The megabus destroyed me but, so I looked upon them less as “ICW Regulars” and more as “People I could lean on tae stop mysell falling through the bar like Del Boy done that time in Only Fools” So aye. A fuckin wrestling show eh. Long winded shite intro oot the road. Sorry for keepin ye fae the good stuff.
After the opening lingual delights fae yer Billy Kirkwood, he introduced his broadcast colleagues for the evening, yer Veronica LeStrange and the returning Dr Sean David. Proving that the combination of smashin patter, smashin dids and eh…Dr Sean David, gets over no matter where ye are. Then we had two former best pals knockin the shite out each other tae kick us off. Intae it? Course ye are.
Show Me Your Lizard was quite a beautiful saga when ye think about it. A show that sold out over a month in advance without a match announced leaves the company with a bit of a unique perspective, because really, they’re under no obligation to announce anything. So instead of announcing matches to cultivate ticket sales, say nothing. Make it a big surprise. Leave the possibility of the whole thing being a front for an adult orientated Singing Kettle show well and truly open. ICW weren’t quite that bold, but with only 4 matches announced, there wis plenty of scope tae make it a night packed with twists, turns, stauners, heart attacks…mare stauners….probably tears, blood? Aye I reckon there’s gonnae be some blood somewhere, and most importantly of course…hunners ah fuckin wrestling!
We had out obligatory opening gambits from the bold Billy Kirkwood, and his co-presenter of ICW Worldwide Veronica LeStrange, and naebdy gets a party started like Billy. That man has called me a sexy motherfucker on countless occasions now, and it still gets me soakin every time. Nothing can really compare tae the level of satisfaction ye get from knowing that a hairy, tatooed man fae Ayrshire finds ye sexy. So with nipples suitably pointed, and baws with a warm welcoming glow aboot them, we were introduced tae his co-commentator for the evening. The recently retired Jackie Polo. Still favouring the neck injury he picked up fae cunnilingual activities wae yer maw and/or sister, he stood by his retirement announcement and spoke of his future prospects as a top class talent agent, and full time advocate for the wearing of suit jaickets without the accompanying suit troosers..anyway. WRESTLIN!
So Grado isnae at this show. That is a disappointment of course, as Grado certainly adds something to every show he’s on. Nae doubt he’d do the same at this one, but Grado disnae make ICW what it is. Grado is one of a great number of talented, important people who are part of making ICW one of the most diverse and entertaining indie wrestling companies in the world. So if you’re a cunt going tae tomorrows show with a negative mindset cause of Grados non involvement, either sell yer ticket tae somecunt who wants it, or sell yer arse for choclate buttons. Just dont fuckin detract from the show that does take place wae any kind of incessant Grado chanting, huvin BO, or being a wank in any way, shape or form. Ta much. x
“Tell us the whole fuckin story!”
The line which started the evenings festivities off would become the unachievable goal. How the fuck can ye put the events of that show intae words that accurately depict the organised chaos that unfolded? Ye just cannae. I’ll dae my fuckin best, don’t get me wrang, but it aw went by in a beautiful haze tae me. I don’t think anyone in that building on Sunday night wisnae utterly gripped by fuckin….everything. Every wrestling show I’ve seen until last night had some sort of lull. Even if its brief, there’s ALWAYS somethin that makes ye think “wish they’d hurry this up” but that lull didnae exist on Sunday night. All that existed was a permanent rush, and people occasionally collapsing wae pish runnin doon their legs in excitement/shock/abject horror. Wrestling is beautiful. Wrestling should be yer happy place. If it isnae…make it yer happy place. Make ICW and Scottish Wrestling in general yer happy place.
The evening began wae a quick brief from ICWs top brass. The guys in black suits that’ve swung mare golf clubs at baws than Tiger Woods. ICW owner Mark Dallas, his chief lieutenant Chris Conscience, Sweeney and various other hired killers. One of the men in the ring was former ICW roster member and resident ‘bag ah washin’ Jamie Feerick, who was there tae plead for a return to the fold, and was swiftly bounced oot the ring by Sweeney, flung wae such venom that he when he stood up he found himself at the bar in Box orderin himsell a Jackie Polo tae calm doon. The main point in the whole saga was for Dallas tae reveal that ICW will be running shows at Studio 24 in Edinburgh EVERY FUCKIN SUNDAY during the fringe, meaning along wae getting tae see aw yer usual homegrown talents, ye get a weekly fix of a certain Mr Cabana. I’d imagine a lot of Glaswegian kidneys will be going on the black market around that time cause we’ll aw be in dire need of cash if we’re moving tae Edinburgh, unless somecunts got a mile long couch we can aw kip on.
Aye so…after that there happened tae be a wrestling show, and it was a wee bit special
Still Smokin’ will be like an adults only version of Pat Sharpes fun house. A whole lotta fun, prizes tae be won, its ICWs new crazy show, where anything goes! (cept instead of prizes, its belts, and this intro falls on its arse if yer not a child of the 90s) I spose I thought that analogy works cause Fun House is fairly choatic n that, and ICW is along the same lines, I dunno, I didnae really think this through, but aye! card’s armed tae the teeth, there’s gonnae be technical wrestling, wrestling where ladders are used as devices of destruction and probably some wrestling that isnae on the originally scheduled card. Basically if yer intae wrestling, ye’ll be intae this, cause its wrestling from top tae bottom so it is. Did I mention wrestling aye? Aye good.