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'Hello! Hello! It's good to be back. It's good to be back' - Some
paederastic glam rocker.
Yeah, so Tosh is back to save All Japan from the tasteless slaughter
of New Japan infiltration. Oh, how we have all missed Kawada's rockin'
entrance music and big yellow boots. Tosh stares out the opposition
and makes like he's gonna kick some long overdue keister. Fuchi
says 'Take it easy, dude. I'll handle these punks.' Kawada reluctantly
acquiesces and hits the apron. Fuchi takes the fight to the NJ (by
all but name) dweebs in that inimitable Fuchi way; guns blazing,
big facials and stiffer than Terje's magic wand during a Janet Jackson
video. Kojima may be a real poor man's Kobashi-cum-Choshu -without
the charm of either- but at least he'll dish out a good pasting
and gladly accept a similar return....then again, so will BJ Whitmer.
Kojima is happy to lay into Fuchi, which the grumpy one sells like
Del Boy until he can tag in Kawada. Kojima and Tosh go at it heavily
in classic All Japan chops n' boots exchange style. The crowd are
popping like Terje's gonads during 'Black Sluts Invade Oslo: Volume
IV' by this point, providing the perfect grounding for the initial
Tosh-Muta exchanges. Muta's work is being derided in popular t'internet
circles once again, so it's okay for me to put him over as at least
being able to muster up some degree of charisma and carryability
in situations like this, That said, he still looks kind of lost
at times and not like a guy with two decades experience at the top.
To be honest, Mutoh was never really a superworker; a lot of his
Yank stuff owed more to exoticism than anything and his work among
his Japanese contempories speaks for itself relatively. But I digress.....there
are lots of dropkicks to the knees and stuff as you would expect,
but it's all done well enough in the context of the match.
More gnarliness ensues between Fuchi and Kojima with the AJ veteran
totally on fire, rocking like Terje with a copy 'Compton's Most
Willing Amateur Girls', his grizzly determination putting over Todgima's
half-arsed cockiness. Cool spot where Kojima locks up Fuchi in the
Scorpion Death Lock prompting Tosh to break the hold by force; at
first with a chop that was cheekily no-sold by Kojima and a second,
more efficacious flesh cracker. Enter Tosh-Kojima stiff-fest part
two and everyone gets all excited, like Terje when Jackie's boobs
fell out on TV that one time. That dastardly Muta takes out the
Toshter's injured knee like a complete twat. Tosh milks the knee-injury,
even breaking out a version of the Johnny Smith flip-up-oh-fuck-my-knee-hurts-I'll-fall-down-again
after a suplex. Right there is just one of the many, many reasons
for Mr K being regarded as the measuring stick in professional wrasslin'
today. As great as Tosh is though, the match belongs to Fuchi. The
story of the match is built around Kawada but Fuchi performs the
Akira Taue Best Supporting Actor role with a great majesty. Kawada
locks the abdominal stretchy thing on Muta, Fuchi strains his facial
muscles and keeps Todgima at bay with the same hold in a stunningly
effective visual. Necessarily then it turns out that All Japan opt
for the easiest way out and spare the three 'big stars' a jobbin'.
Kojima survives the awesome homoerotic Kawada stuff-powerbomb and
ends up putting the ever game Fuchi away with a not quite Stan Hansen-esque
lariat. Kawada = yes! Fuchi = fuck yes!
Okay, so they hook up into some initiatory matwork. Fine. Nothing
outrageously divine in its brilliance or anything, but it avoids
being mind numbingly boring. Then Ki starts annoying me with his
crap quasi-Muta posing/cartwheels and that stupid heel kick where
he gently taps his opponent's chest with his foot. Apart from that
the match up to this point is fine. Tra-la-la fine. Ah, but then
Takaiwa starts attacking Ki's leg. Ki starts to sell the injury
like his leg is about to fall off. Alright, I see where this is
going! Or do I? For you see, five minutes or so after they bust
out the leg injury gimmick -with Takaiwa working the match around
this important development- Lo Ki suddenly miraculously recovers
from this injury and starts diving around the place as fresh as
a daisy. He would not make any physical reference to leg for the
rest of the match. So that's approximately fifteen minutes of wrestling
out of the window and the match effectively starts afresh. I think
that the major flaw with Lo Ki is that like Sylvain Wiltord -to
paraphrase my father- he's just 'a bit thick.'
So now full on flippy floppy Lo Ki emerges and it looks like we're
in trouble. Trouble in theory at least as such an appraisal would
be to underestimate the vast talents of one Tetsuhito Takaiwa. Since
Ki's input is basically 'innovative' indycrap spots from this point
onwards, Takaiwa takes it upon himself to build a story around the
flip flops and keep the thing from degenerating into Lynn-Styles
repetitious 1-2-No syndrome or -worse still- a Dave 'Auschwitz Kid'
Maynard backyard bonanza. Takaiwa's classy psychological play lends
some credibility to Ki's crappy looking (i.e - they don't look like
they could squash a pancake) twistysaults. Plus, I got a sadistic
kick out seeing Takaiwa drill the little twat with DVD's and powerbombs.
By some miracle -Takaiwa's selling had made the match seem more
attritional- there is some excitement and anticipation in the audience
as Ki hits the final twistytwisty for the sweaty arse pinfall at
close to half an hour. Uncannily fun match as it turns out and the
lesson is a simple one: Takaiwa great, Lo Ki dweeb. Put that into
your ears last thing at night and behavioural psychology tells us
that the next time you watch professional wrestling you'll be 17.8%
safer.
When and why the fuck did Chris Benoit start to wrestle like Kurt
Angle? Is he trying to squeeze a marriage proposal out of Dave Meltzer
or something? What's the matter, Canuck-boy? Is Nancy not putting
out anymore? Maybe she should go back to Kev and get some real hot
lovin', huh? I remember when Chris Benoit was about the balls-to-the-wall,
hard nosed and intelligent wrestling, not this fifty german suplexes
a match shite. It is as if I needed another reason to hate Vince
McMahon and his evil wrestling dystopia.
Choshu, you cunt.
[jabs Choshu in face]
What the fuck is your problem
y' lumpy fucker?
Like anyone wants to see your
kid kickboxing
[chops Choshu hard across chest]
Fuck you
[chops him back]
Oh, fuck me huh? Fat motherfucker
- try this on.
[Choshu ducks old man enzuigiri]
Son of a bitch!
[tries to apply Scorpion Death Lock, Tenryu escapes before he can
lock it in]
Just for that I'm gonna choke
you like the fat little piggy that you are.
[slaps on chinlock]
Tits to this. How do you like
these apples, you Kitano wannabe?
[reverses hold]
C'mon motherfucker!!!
You wanna do it, cumwad?
Try me, punchy.
[smacks Choshu in mush and brainbusters him]
Fuck you!
[clotheslines Tenryu]
All you got motherfucker?
Right.
[runs off ropes and lays out Tenryu with huge lariat. Makes cover
for three]
Well, motherfucker?
[Tenryu drags him self to his feet]
This ain't over. This ain't
over, you son of a bitch!
The background is an extremely complex one. Complex to Vince Russo,
that is. Ian hates Todd, Todd hates Ian. Todd has been antagonising
Ian both verbally and by attacking his missus on previous shows,
Todd comes out to the ring as colour (and I mean colour) commentator
Steve Stone remarks to Dave Prazak: 'Did you ever think when you
were watching wrestling growing up that there would ever be groups
like The Bad Motherfuckers?'
'Or The Sons of Bitches?' adds Prazak.
This is the kind of guttermouthed, amoral humour that gives IWA
Mid-South a lot of it's charm. I would denote this 'charm' as a
kind of mid-point between the post-ECW promotions and old-school
Cornette wrasslin', with just enough charisma and character to get
away with it.
A female fan tries to attack Todd. She looks to be in her early
twenties, blonde and not overly attractive. Her plump behind wiggles
in the comfortable confines of her grey sweatpants as 'security'
(a couple of beardy blokes) prevent her from reaching Morton. She
kicks and screams irrationally as Todd responds by spitting at her.
Steve Stone labels the girl a 'psycho cunt' from the safety of the
commentary position as we watch her explode with rage. Ian Rotten's
imposing wife, Patty is required to calm the girl down, holding
her against a wall. Todd remains belligerent and stands in the ring
cursing like Richard Prior while threatening every fan in the building.
Okay, maybe it isn't quite as extreme as people trying to shoot
The Shiek, but at least people are getting involved enough to care.
We need do away with all the wrestler/fan mutual appreciation obsequiousness
and put the anarchy back in wrestling; back to the days when wrestlers
had to fight their way out of arenas.
(Meanwhile in the ARSION showers)
Todd Morton is such a HEEL.
He's like this 5"7 little hothead who can incite rednecks to
anger. Who else is doing that in this day and age?
Besides Earl Strickland?
I bet you don't see Todd buying
that chick flowers the next day. That's for sure.
*ahem* My ears are burning.
No offence, Rossers but you're
not a better heel than Todd Morton. You're irritating in a weedy
Japanese Jimmy Hart way and all, but let's get this in perspective,
huh?
I am speechless.
Good. Now put a towel on or
get out!
Ian Rotten's music hits -Marilyn Manson gets Steve Stone marking
out- and emerges from the babyface locker room. There's that charm
again: amongst the swearing and chairshots are heel and face locker
rooms. Todd acts up some more and starts jawing with the guys at
the merchandise table. Ian jumps him from behind. The brawling is
believable and brutal, both men can throw and take a punch. The
initial pang of rage is directed upon Todd with Ian giving him the
beating that his character has been begging for. The vicarious anger
of the fans channelled through the babyface. Todd bumps around for
his ass-kicking like a modern day Bill Dundee. Ian gives him a good
ringpost nad slamming for the effort.
(Meanwhile in the www.wrestlingsansjoy.com chatroom)
Some gene-pool rejects are
actually claiming that -lol- 4/18/03 is actually worth watching,
son.
They are? IDIOTS!
Yup. Almost as stupid as you.
Tool.
I agree..
The brawling doesn't CONNECT
with me. That's why American matches can only achieve a limit of
***1/4.
I don't care anyway. I'm off
to rewatch 5/7/95. I'm going to record all of Toyota's selling errors
on a spreadsheet and manipulate them into a 'Bad Sell Average'.
At such a time we will be able to scientifically determine the comparative
rates of selling in every AJW match from the 1979 to present.
Great idea. I'm thinking of
sending a review of 'Guilty As Charged 2000' to Meltzer.
Todd takes to the offence and starts a beatin' on El Senor Rotten.
Ian gushes a biggy as he inclined to do every now and again and
there's plasma all over the place. Stratton screams yet more relentless
invective at the IWA faithful as he beats on Ian as if he were the
Rodney King to his LAPD. Pretty fucking vicious stuff and Ian takes
it all a fatter Robert Gibson sort of way. The King O' HC belts
his way back into it at the point where he looks most out of it
(kayfabekayfabekayfabe) and Todd gets his mouth shut with some good
old fashioned clubbering. Ian piledrives Todd in the middle of the
ring. He makes the cover but pulls him up at two. His body language
says: 'Boy, I'm going to teach you a lesson the only way us East
Coast garbage wrestler Southern babyfaces know how!' Jerry Lawler
territory really, isn't it? Todd gets two more piledrivers, both
of which he sells zany Southern heel style and Rotten wins the match.
Hey Davey honey, what do you know
about this [reads off sheet] 'IWA Mid-South'?
I think it's that sleazy garbage
promotion run by that heathen Ian Rotten.
They don't have Christian values
then?
No. That's why their guys will
never be the next Ric Flair like you, darling. I think you're great
by the way. Have I told you that before?
I think so.......once or twice,
I'm not sure.
I think you're great too, Kurt.
You smoke Ric Flair in his prime, dude.
Wow thanks for the compliment.
Y'know, if I ever wanted to go into MMA I'd come to you for training
because you're the best.
Oh, I'm not......
Don't be so modest, Frankie!
I think you're both great.
[barging into room angrily] Will
you keep the noise down? Some of us are trying to do our homework.
Todd gets romantically stretchered out and Ian breaks into one his
rantyranties on the house mic. You just can't help but wish that
this sort of match was still the norm in professional wrestling.
Bah, what can I do about that?
There's a place some of us choose to live
A gated community, Co-ed can't come in
A neighbourhood for wrasslin' marks over the hill
We're watching Memphis tapes in RIMsville
We can do whatever we want, whenever we please
There's always swearing and a lot of sleaze
We got WCW from '92
All Japan and lucha libre too..
We will grow old together
We will watch Stan Hansen and Vader
Chris J and Dave Pick they still skateboard
But most of us just sit there watching porn
Si keeps up the supply so we ain't bored.
We've got a blackboard with some rules and laws
Lister's got a thousand tapes in his garage
Most the cars are smashed and so's Bobby
Shouting at Momoe incessantly
John Kennedy lives next door to me
Terje and Newport MOJ head security
At the end of my cul-de-sac
Steve has built a shrine to Bob Sapp
We will grow old and FAT!ter
We got our GAEA so what else matters?
The Martins and Fadda are staying up
$tew and Niall get the Guinness out
When Stamford, C.T cracks
We're all going down
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