Woohoo, it is April, and it is a Sunday, and that means it is Wrastlin’ time! Like the day Cosmo comes out, except for the
more discerning less discerning people who like a pint and some shouting with their body paint and tights.
I will now attempt to blog this Properly; and probably get a thump from the next Wrastler I meet, for misrepresenting everything.
So, after my last (and first) ever attendance at the Wrastlin’, which was awesome and featured a guy getting chucked off a balcony at my pint, I approached this one with mixed feelings. I had told loads of people it was simply EPIC, which means this time around it was bound to be a complete bust; which is why I was all, ‘I am so making a posse for this!’ and then didn’t.
Well, that and I was distracted by the greenhouse and the lurgy and so forth and suddenly it was Sunday. Oops.
So I deliberately didn’t expect too much, and I was right not to, for we were right at the back this time and I could see little except heads for the first two matches.
(Though rather embarrassingly, it turns out there is a massive screen on the wall which shows all the action as shot from above. It took me an hour to notice this.)
First up: an announcement that Red Lightning has packed it in. Despite being a card-carrying villain, at least for his last match, there was much noise made in his honour. Next, some guys in suits, here to complain that we were only there for the violence, the booze and the boobs; which seemed a successful way to get everyone in the mood for some violence, booze and boobs. There was some sort of kerfuffle, followed by Cage versus… (*looks up internet*) Jamie Feerick. I just rock at this so much already!
Fair play though, Cage – or at least, Cage’s on-stage persona, which may not be necessarily the same thing – is gay, and out, and came onstage in an eye-mask and a fishnet top. To great applause, and he was definitely the favourite in that match (which I am pleased to say he won) (but which I found odd, given the reception Mikey Whiplash got later, but never mind. Perhaps, the hero vs villain classification is now refreshingly decoupled from one’s sexual presentation.
Dammit, have been hanging out on feminist blogs too much.)
Quick, onward! Umm…. so, there was more kerfuffle with the suits, and if memory serves, they were eventually beaten up by Johnny Moss, who is seriously the most muscley person I have ever seen in real life. There were big guys next to him (and on top of him and in the air above him, and you get the idea) and they just looked like teeny Neds. I wonder if he is partly popular ‘cos of his permanent expression like he’s about to bite someone’s nose off and really enjoy it (there is, I swear, something endearing about it; possibly the way he is all the way over there, instead of right next to me.)
Next up: Noam Dar versus Andy Wild, for a Title. Ah, yes, if memory serves, we had a guy from Dublin, in facepaint; that must have been Noam Dar? Who was rather thoroughly booed on his way in, but won the crowd over in 30 seconds flat by telling us to shout ‘he’s a wanker’ at his opponent (a Local, at that). Said opponent, who I presume was Andy Wild, then demanded the mike so he could complain, and just like that, we had swapped the roles of hero and villain. Ach, just tell us who to shout for and it will be done (as long as you don’t, like, make it too blatant).
And the hero won. Hurrah!
However, names I do recognise: the Bucky Boys, and their trusty, um, hanger-on, Lambrini. Versus those guys they were versus last time! Given that the hero won the last match, I suspected the Bucky Boys were about to be Brung Low by foul play, and I was right. Although most of it happened on the balcony, where I couldn’t see it (though Lambrini and her anti-matter hanger-on took over the ring and had a fight of their own to keep things going).
And we had a belt match before the break! BT Gunn versus Wolfgang. Excellent, I remember both these guys from last time and I don’t need to be told who’s the hero and who’s the villain! (What makes this extra-special awesome is that a number of the villains closely resemble people who have been viciously nasty to me in real life. This makes it much easier to mean it when I’m yelling along for someone to be given a kicking.
…It’s not like it’s a real kicking.)
I suspect BT Gunn is the champion at the moment because a) he has purple and green hair in a topknot, who couldn’t love that; and b) he is mad. I think he went headfirst into the post at one point (does this mean it was he who went headfirst into the test-your-strength machine last time?) and he won and I rejoiced mightily, and Wolfgang was Evil just before he did, just in case you forgot who to cheer for. (Though Wolfgang had many supporters, some of which were right next to us, oh eek, is this like The Footie? We took turns shouting, however, and nothing came of it).
And after the break… we was at the front! Somehow! Also, Mikey Whiplash versus Kid Fite! Hurrah! This time, Mikey was in a PVC skirt to go with the fishnet tights (our part of the audience: ‘I have that skirt!’) He was booed most mightily by folks next to us shouting, Freak! and I was heartily glad I had made no effort whatsoever to dress up. Cos let’s face it, I’m too chicken to go out on my own wearing what he was wearing. (Feminist musing alert: I bet nobody in the entire audience was thinking, ‘ooh that Mikey Whiplash is out in scandalous clothing in public, therefore if I see him minding his own business somewhere in completely different attire he is still clearly asking for it’. Therefore, if I was his size… Ahem. Sorry.) Anyway, woo, his sidekick Lolita was in full Goth get-up and thus looked somehow a lot teenier than when she was being a schoolmarm, and she had an even weenier Goth sidekick of her own, ah it was adorable!
Okay, someone obviously missed a cue during that (so the Bossman helpfully informed me, being taller) – so Mikey won without whatever cheating was supposed to have happened, which confused everyone for a bit, but then Kid Fite beat up both Lolita and her sidekick, and for some reason Mikey Whiplash is still Evil, go figure. Because of the skirt, maybe*. He is my favourite wrastler ever for this very reason! Well, him and BT Gunn. (See, fangirling has already commenced!)
*Or possibly, because he went after someone who threw a drink in his face. Later they did it again and got thrown out, too right, and after the guy they were supporting told them not to, in case someone got their neck broken. It is quite possible that fight was going to be a lot more entertaining, if the floor hadn’t been slippery so they had to call most of it off.
Still. Kid Fite seems to have a Thing about tea-bagging his opponents, (yes, this has actually happened, in public, I have now seen his balls on more than one occasion and I have only been to the wrastlin’ on two occasions), only this time there was the hilarious comeback of him, well, not getting them back, and I don’t know where that actual teabag came from afterwards, but I think I can guess. It appears he was made to eat it, anyway.
These guys work hard for our entertainment, y’all. And for a tenner for the evening and reasonable bar prices! (I never thought I would say that about a three-pound pint. Le sigh).
Next up: James Scott Defeats Sean South, I see from the results page. I honestly cannot remember anything about this fight, sorry guys. I was flagging something chronic by this point; putting up a greenhouse all day is quite enough for me, I am getting Old! Boo.
However, the finale: Iceman and His Sidekick versus Jack Jester and His Sidekick. I think. In a Deathmatch!* And we were told to give it up bigtime because it was Iceman’s retirement match and of all the places he coulda dunnit, he had picked us, so we were to make sure he didn’t regret it. And fair enough!
*(Not really to the death).
I was now starting to expect big things from this. And how! And indeed, who is Jester’s cute sidekick with the high boots and the fuck-me shorts? (My mistake: that was actually ‘FIGHT ME’ written across his arse, I realised later. Not quite at the front for this one).
But not to worry: I think the blood started flowing around thirty seconds in, which made me wonder how they were gonna manage to keep the ante upped for the whole match. And the fight came to us a few seconds later, when Jester chucked Iceman’s sidekick (Jimmy Havoc, I see from the results page) at my pint – seriously, again? – followed him out of the ring and battered him round the head with a frying pan. Yes, a frying-pan, don’t ask. I certainly didn’t, especially when they had a right to-do at my very feet, which is where the frying-pan got dropped. To my extreme surprise, nobody wanted it for a Souvenir.
The fight then went onto the balcony, while people around me chanted a spontaneous song about how they couldn’t see what was going on, and some guy with a grin the size of the moon gave a spirited reenactment of it for our benefit and got a round of applause. God it was awesome. The drawing pins came back out, Iceman had his shoes ripped off and got thrown in them feet first, by Jester and his sidekick (who I probably should name in the interests of fairness right now, and I see his name is Chris Renfrew).
I was really expecting them to have written this so Iceman won his last ever match, so I was surprised when he didn’t. Because Jester hit him from behind with a fencepost covered in barbed wire. Though I believe this was faked, I seriously needed a sit-down by this point, and I was just watching. Iceman looked pretty stunned and all (having been going hell for leather for a good ten minutes. (What age do these guys retire at? I am fairly sure I could not have kept up with what he did and I am mumble cough bugger. OLD.)
But Jester gave a stirring speech about how Iceman was the guy who inspired him to go into wrestling and we should all cheer like lunatics, and eventually Iceman got up and told us about the guy who inspired him to go into wrestling, and asked us to chant a rude song about him. So we did.
And it was the most awesome night ever!
In conclusion: I should probably not have been allowed past the bouncers with this.