As many of you know, I’m a big wrestling fan - especially the local Perth wrestling. These guys put their bodies on the line for stupid morons like me who demand to see blood and humiliation… The other day I had an experience… one so profound that I’ve decided to share it with you.
I know it’s long, but I hope you enjoy.
A couple of weeks ago I found myself waiting in line at Evolution, one of Explosive Professional Wrestling’s biggest nights of the year. I overheard some guys in front of me talking up another company, imaginatively called called the “Northern Suburbs Wrestling Alliance and Entertainment”. Aside from wondering to myself how many delicious EPW hotdogs I could buy later in the night, I also found myself wondering about this new band of wrestlers. A couple of weeks later, I drove past the Herb Graham Rec Centre in Mirrabooka which had a large banner promoting the NSWA-E’s next show - Midyear Mayhem. So I decided to go - can’t go wrong with a $5 entry fee.
The night came and I arrived with little expectations. I waited out the front and had a smoke. Out came a lady wearing a NSWA-E sweatshirt, so I instantly made the assumption that this would be a somewhat professional affair, given that it isn’t run by a bunch of 16 year old backyarders with too much time on their hands.
I went in, paid my entry fee and witnessed around 150 people come in. Not too shaby, I thought to myself - given that they had hosted shows in the past, it seems they have gathered themselves a bit of a fan base.
I took up a seat at the front, and there before me was the ring……
Well, I say its a ring, but really it looked like 4 queen sized mattresses shoved together with a large white bedsheet draped over it. Where where the ringposts? Where was the rope? Why is the ring only 1 foot tall? What are those translucent white stains on the sheets? Where can i get myself a tasty beverage and some equally tasty treats?
These questions and plenty more started to fill my head but then the night started, and we were greeted by the announcers and a local band. They punched out a couple of tunes, the crowd was appreciative to the lucid tones of - what do you kids call it these days? The Hip-Hop? Anyways, a round of applause rung through the Rec Centre at the end of every song. I was unsure if the crowd was being polite or if they were genuinely being entertained by this band with a seriously bad audio setup. But on the other hand, the lead singer was rather polite before their set, warning the crowd that bad swear words may be uttered through their renditions. Given that the crowd had it’s fair share of 6 year olds, accompanied by their 60 year old Nannas, I though the explicit lyric warning was a nice thing to do.
After the band finished, we are introduced to the show. The announcer comes up to the soft, squishy ring and tells us that he is going to host an interview with a recently formed tag tam. The music hits and out comes the tag team by the name of Thunder Down Under.. well, thats what the card says they were called - I honestly couldn’t understand half of what was said … Honestly, don’t they know what a sound check is?
The Thunder Down Under (TDU) consisted of a guy wearing an aussie flag as a bandanna, as well as a West Coast Eagles scarf draped over his shoulders. The girl looked relentless, in whatever the hell she was wearing, accompanied by an obviously empty esky…. Hmm, lets see… I wonder if the esky would be used as a weapon sometime in the night…
TDU did their thing on the mic, which strangely enough turned into an Eagles versus the Dockers argument. Suddenly a match erupted between the two tag teamers. Things get a big hazy for me at this stage, I suddenly found myself witnessing one of the weirdest bitchslapfests that I have seen all week. The commentator decided to turn into a Ref and the match continued with kicks and punches flying all over the place. Somewhere in the match the aforementioned eksy was used as a weapon, followed by a plastic chair of some sorts.
Given this was an obvious squash match, i got up to fit in a quick toilet break. The toilets were clean and had a slight hint of demestos in the air. When I returned, it was obvious that the match was over as some large guy was standing in the middle of the “ring” fighting off a bunch of… uh…
Ninjas.
According to the card, the big guy was called Bruiser and the Ninjas were called.. uh.. The Ninjas.
The ninjas were all over young Bruiser, throwing Ninja kicks left right and centre - then finding themselves at the end of a knuckle sandwich. Whilst i start falling into a stupified comatose state, the match ends and out comes a bunch of cheerleaders. Well, I say they’re cheerleaders given that is what the friendly voice on the mic called them - but honestly, it looked like a bunch of rejects from the local High School’s year 10 Dance class. These rather portly “cheerleaders” danced their little hearts away whilst the crowd cheered in approval. The kids were loving it. The sobbl of their size 16 frames were obviously a crowd pleaser. The Nannas were loving it too. Good on ya nans for clapping along. I found myself falling in love….. in love with the concept of getting myself some food… bloody hell, where were the hotdogs? EPW has hotdogs - its one of the main reasons why I go to every EPW show. If NSWA-E wants to get me as a fan, they’d better get me some frikkin’ hotdogs. And don’t forget the onions and mustard.
I love mustard.
After the cheerleaders finished, we are told that there will be a quick intermission whilst they set up for the next match. I burst out of my chair and made a beeline to the front door for a quick smoke. Ahh, the fresh air. The crisp clean air, the Winfield blue in my left hand, my mobile in the right. I was checking out the current temperature online as it seemed warmer outside than it was inside. Great - it was 7 degrees out there. I momentarily felt sorry for the previous cheerleaders - having to dance in that cold with so little clothes on. But i reminded myself it was probably just practice for their future careers standing on the street corners of Girrawheen, selling their souls to drunk truckers who stumble out the local drinking hole.
Ahh, I just love whores. Such a cultured bunch.
After the smoke, I journeyed back inside and noticed there was food for sale. I bought myself a delicious giant sandwich ice cream, just to warm myself up and went back to my front row seat. The next match had already started. There was a guy dressed up as the Hurricane fighting some guy who looked like a council worker for the City of Stirling. This somewhat reminded me of a traditional WWE Diva match, not only were the two wrestlers fighting like a bunch of girls, they also did the traditional get-on-the-floor-and-roll-your-two-sweaty-bodies-over-the-perverted-ref thing. I suppose when you’re fighting on a soft velvety mat, you’re bound to get up to a bit of hanky panky. The fake Hurricane gets pinned and in runs a kid dressed up an an Emo.. hmm, how topical. The crowd goes wild with the Emo-hate and the commentators do a standup comedy routine about how the Emo population should be eradicated. I suppose cultural genocide is popular with the crowd as they get into the wacky commentating.
Ahh genocide. The Nazis would be proud of this setup.
Some kind of submission hold is put on the Council worker by Emo kid and in walks some guy. I gather this is some kind of elimination match or possibly a badly timed ropeless battle royale. The new guy (I shall call him “The Guy”) sets up a spinning DDT followed by a round of scream-at-the-crowd-to-remind-them-that-he-is-a-heel schtick. The Guy follows this up with a spear to the Emo, who forgets to sell and struts off unharmed. A pin by The Guy happens for some reason and then in comes the next wrestler. I’ve decided to call the next wrestler “Randy Jones”, the cowboy from the village people as he is wearing a creepy smile and a pair of jeans with it’s crotch cut out. Randy Jones jumps The Guy and pins him with a small package thanks to the Ref’s ridiculously fast 3 count. I’m sure there is a back story to that somewhere..
Next comes in a pompous guy wearing bright canary yellow Pants. Behind the ring is a small platform of some sorts, standing about 7 foot from the ground. Tweety bird drags Randy Jones to the top and botches a Rock Bottom style move. Tweety then pins and out comes a… chick wrestler?
Oh deary me…
She struts into the ring, with her heaving melons barely escaping her tight white top. Normally things like this would amuse me, even exciet me and prompt me to stick $5 notes down her top, but I was absolutely mortified by those inhuman cellulite ridden meat posts protruding out of her body. I believe they were called legs. 30 seconds pass and she taps out to a modified Boston crap. The crowd goes wild whilst I look for the closest bucket to throw up into - that chick had enough camel toe to create a black hole that would suck us all into the 5th dimension.
The music hits when the next wrestler runs out. Dressed up like a nutty raver, he throws hard lollies at the crowd and dances around a bit. The lollies were definitely out of date given the hard pings i hear whilst they ricochet off some guy’s glasses. A couple of Russian legs sweeps later and a dive from the platform - another Pin. The music hits again as some guy, apparently dressed like a doctor comes out. Half of the crows cheers and start chanting “Doc! Doc! Doc!” or perhaps it was “Cock! Cock! Cock!” I wasn’t too sure of what was said or what their sexual preference was, but I guess they just simply love the cock. The Raver puts the Cock inyo a headlock which is reversed followed by a couple of chops to the chest.
Later on, the Raver decides to not only climb up the 9ft platform, but continue up to the 12ft wall behind it. He leaps off, only to fall on his head and get pinned by the Doc. Luckily if it wasn’t for the soft, cottony landing, I would have expected the paramedics to come in and slap some sense into the Raver. Once again the music hits. Apparently it’s the commentator’s music. The ‘Tator gives the mic to one of the Ninjas and runs into the ring. The Cock throws a spinning backbreaker on the Tater whilst the ref forgets where he is and starts staring at the ceiling. It is quite obvious that he is bored crapless with the whole ordeal. The ref yawns, I yawn, the guy next to me yawns and we all start a Mexican-wave style yawnfest.
As the match continues, the new Ninja on the mic does an embarrassing Ching-Chong-Chinaman routine as I wonder if anyone would notice me cracking open a bottle of Jim Beam so i can suck it down an infant suckling on it’s mum’s ample bosom. Aah yes, liquor always soothes the pain. Tator throws in four superkicks to the Doc and pins him. In comes in another Ninja, who promptly trips on one of the bedsheets on is way into the ring. Both the Ninja and the Tator launch into a highly over-choreographed series of kicks and punches, which Tator finaly ends with some kind of rolling thunder-like clothesline. Highly unnecessary, but the kids loved the gymnastics of it all. After a apin by the Ninja and an allegedly brutal assault which may have ended the Tator’s career, the Tator gets up, walks over to the commentary table and gets back to the mic seemingly unhurt by his previous match.
Its a miracle! WOW! Its a miracle that I didn’t fashion a homemade shiv out of my glasses and stab myself to death.
In comes the next guy, a wrestler wearing a giant fury hat and suspenders. I shall call him unshaven testicle man. The Ninja and him exchange a flurry of stiff arm drags followed by a pin by unshaven testicle man. As the music hits for the next wrestler, unshaven testicle man waits by the entrance as a bloke wearing a jumper walks in. Unshaven testicle man smacks a plastic cane into jumper boys chest then smashes it on his back. The plastic cane explodes in a violent.. uh.. explosion, whilst shards of sharp plastic hurtle towards the crowd. Unfortunately nobody was hurt.
DAMN!
I was SO disappointed.
Ramdom crowd injuries rock!
The fight goes back into the ring whilst jumper boy’s shoe goes flying off into the crowd. Three crowd members are hit and taken off in an ambulance suffering from a bad case of foot fungus. Well, that didn’t actually happen, but I was already in fantasy land at this stage, dreaming up wonderful ways to making this show suck less. Jumper boy throws in a bulldog then drags his opponent up onto the platform to perform a personalized version of a side-effect for the win.
At this point I notice there was as strobe light. Ooo a stobe light. Its purrrrrdy. If i wave my arms in front of it, i look like a robot!
Heh..
I’d be an awesome robot.
As I entertained myself by pretending I am Optimus Prime leader of the Autobots, in comes the title holder. A big guy who is wearing leather, face paint and has visible nipples through his sheer cotton vest. He is holding the NSWA-E title, which looks like it was made of cardboard, back texta and gaffer tape. The title holder then jumps into the ring, pins for the win and struts off with his title, clutched in his paws.
Oooo I wish I had a title as shiny as his was.
Match over, the ref decides to tuck in the sheets as things got a bit messy during the match. The Commentator asks a ninja to go out and help. Seems the Ref doesnt know hot to do hospital corners very well.
As the cleanup happens, the Raffle Draw happened. WHAT?? A raffle draw?! Why the hell wasn’t I told about that? I hope thy aren’t giving away a meat pack and a wheel barrow.. I sure could use a meat pack and a wheel barrow…
Luckily enough it wasn’t a meat pack. Young Christine wins the prize an assortment of plastic Ninja swords. Only two bucks at your local red dot store.
WOW! What a win!Christine must be so pleased with herself. If only she had a box of shurikens and nunchucks, she could join the Ninjas and they could terrorize the streets of Mirrabooka.
Ninjas rule.. but me as a robot would still rule more.
During the raffle draw, the ref, the Emo and a Ninja set up the ring for the next match. They pull out a giant roll of carpet from behind a bunch of chairs. I secretly hope to myself that there is a dead body inside, but unfortunately no…..
Dead people rule. They turn into Zombies..
Mmmm flesh eating zombies are cool…
Flesh eating ROBOT zombies are way cooler..
They lay the carpet over the ring in a tidy manner. Confused, I read the card to realize that the next match is a.. wait, I gotta use caps lock for this.. just to get the effect..
the next match is a BLOOD BRAWL.
Ooooooo!
Err… what the heck is a blood brawl? I’m guessing its a first blood match.. And that explains why they put the mat on top of the bed.. i mean ring.. Obviously they don’t want to get the sheets dirty.. blood is SO hard to get out of sheets. Believe me, I know..
In comes the wrestlers first is some fat bastard called The Enforcer. His black tights leave little to the imagination. Next comes in MKM.. two guys…. wait.. thats the guys from the band! Wow! This is going to be an amazing match. Obviously they’ve put no time or effort into mastering their musical career meaning they spent all that time on training to be professional wrestlers.. I hope.
The match starts with a couple of spinning leg drops.. uh.. these boys really loves those leg drops. Must be Hogan fans. Suddenly the Enforcer is BUSTED OPEN!!! BLOOD!! THE MATCH IS OVER!! wait.. no it isn’t…. yes, theres blood, but wait. Its on his elbows.. damned carpet burn from that rug they put on the bed. A well positioned doona could have done the trick, but i guess they didn’t think of that. The fat bastard pulls off an exhausting looking vertical suplex followed up by a few more leg drops and a double clothes line. The clown guy pulls out a guitar…gee, original gimmick there boys… but it is quickly pulled away from him by fatty boombaladah and smashed over his head. A couple of oohs and aahs emanate from the crowd.
Wow, these crowd people are easily impressed.. I should get them to read my blog…
Right after being showered by smashed guitar debris, the fat bastard decides to chomp into one of MKM’s head. Finally! Real blood! The bastard bladed himself.. Which was all kind of expected since the ref had whipped out the razorblade a minute earlier and managed to cut his thumb in the process..Dumbass.
When the thought of consuming a pump and juicy gimmick wrestler came to me, i noticed a smell emanating from the entry… mmm…. smells like hot chips.. WOW! They’ve got hot food on sale! Woo! I jumped out of my chair and ran off to get some hot, greasy food into my snap frozen body. As I sprinted to the source of the chippy smell, I noticed the front door.. It beckoned me to leave.. and I did just that.
There was no way in hell I could torment my mind with this form of entertainment.
As I drove home, i suddenly realized that I had just missed out.. missed out on the delicious hot chips, so I popped over to the nearest Caltex and got myself some microwave nachos instead. The night finally ended right… mmmm hot nachos and fake cheese.
Delicious.
I give it 5 out of 5 stars.
The nachos that is… The wrestling was shit they don’t even deserve any stars.
