EWW had thrown the gauntlet down in that small subculture of
subcultures, British Wrestling, claiming that we were the first and only truly
hardcore promotion in the UK. We were only the second to hold a match in a
steel cage and the first in the world to hold it in a tournament final. We had
also liberally used numerous props including chairs, fireballs and chains
throughout the show. Our attitude was aggressive like the American ECW (Extreme
Championship Wrestling), but our storylines were intended to be even deeper and
more original than the now legendary stunt-filled promotion. Nothing in British
Wrestling had been so adult-based or character driven. CCW (Commonwealth
Championship Wrestling) had certainly been our springboard and immediately we
would eclipse their relevance to the British Wrestling scene, but little did we
realize others were also being inspired and a new generation of British pro wrestling
promotions was emerging.
It is arguable that the origins for these new promotions had
grown from the scattered parts of CCW’s second and highest profile official
show, “Animal Instincts”. Phil Lowe, whose real role in CCW I have never really
been able to ascertain, had decided to form his own ill-fated promotion, the
British Wrestling Alliance. However, it was the modest lightweight wrestler I
had last seen scratching his bollocks on the way to the ring at “Animal
Instincts” who would make the biggest immediate impact on the British Wrestling
scene over the years – or rather his promotion would.
The Fratton Wrestling Association apparently had been in
existence since 1993. Going by what I have since heard, and I may be wrong, it
was virtually a prototype for the controversial backyard wrestling that would
become popular in 1999 onwards, run by youngsters who had some formal training,
but were mainly self-taught. We were first seriously alerted to their presence
when an advert was emailed to us picturing Mark Sloan being slammed through a
flimsy pasting table. We were young, proud and fired up about our position in
professional wrestling and immediately saw them as jumping on our extreme
bandwagon. The stunt seemed like an insult to the stunts we had pulled off and,
worse still, the show was using most of the wrestlers we had incorporated into
our storylines.
Encouraged by Lee Edwards’s Welsh DJ friend (we’ll call him
LJ) we decided to visit the new promotion to suss the scene out. The outing was
organized by LJ, and there was clearly a mixture of agendas on the card. LJ was
after aggravation; Lee probably wanted a scrap, whereas the rest of us had
varying degrees of curiosity and annoyance on our minds. Our ensemble consisted
of Stu “The Dominator” Allen, Josh Perry (our technical manager and “sleeping”
partner), Jay “Pain” McDonald, Chris O’Regan and me.
After seeing virtually all of Portsmouth on an unscheduled
scenic tour following LJ’s car almost into the sea, my mobile phone rang to
hear LJ confessing “I haven’t got a fucking clue where we are going!” When we
did get to the accommodation he had arranged for us we thought that the sea
might have been preferable. It was a cramped bad smelling bed and breakfast run
by a woman who would not have looked out of place teaching Latin in a convent.
She informed us that we could call her or her husband any time before 11pm for
assistance. All we needed to do was ring the bell. This would prove to be a lie…
“It’s the mystique that I love” sneered Lee upon seeing a
fully costumed Mark Sloan walk over to the ticket office to check some last
minute details, as the audience shuffled into the Fratton venue. FWA had packed
the place out and even arranged for a video wall, although it seemed a bit out
of place in the community hall venue, as everyone could clearly see the ring.
The audience were certainly going to get their money’s worth, as FWA had booked
a huge number of wrestlers and also splashed out on some props, including a
ladder they had imported from America. However, the most impressive item of all
was the ring that Mark Sloan had built with his father. This ring and others
produced by the promotion would become very popular on the New British
Wrestling scene. It was bigger than many being used by other British promotions
and, unlike ours, was not just a modified boxing ring. It was kitted out very
much like the American promotions including, at least for a small period,
knuckle pads in the corners. However, the thing that really got the high flyers
excited was the titanium spring underneath.
The show was clearly over-booked and even included an
out-of-place “old school” match. However, we would later learn that this was
all done on purpose. FWA were looking at the bigger picture and using the event
to generate film footage for future video promos in order to chase the elusive
television deal all British promotions were after at the time. The mission for
all New British Wrestling was to get British wrestling back on TV! Sadly it
would coincide with the emergence of the multi-channel satellite/cable TV
phenomenon, which meant that although many promotions would succeed with this
mission none, to date, have been able to equal the success of the World of
Sport days. Nevertheless Mark Sloan’s unknown business partner at the time
would reveal himself to be a young low budget director/producer/writer of soft
core horror sexploitation films called Elisar Cabrera. Elisar appeared to be
the promotion’s hidden weapon as he was well-connected in the media world,
having been born into it, much like myself, and he certainly knew how to edit
together the footage taken from the shows. However, on this occasion we weren’t
introduced, so we watched the show with somewhat bemusement and through deeply
prejudiced eyes.
The show did not appear to have a big storyline running
through it, although there was clearly an attempt at this with John Feltham –
the rising wrestling fanzine pioneer of the New British Wrestling movement –
and Mark Sloan. Feltham, who had previously been involved in promoting CCW, was
playing the corporate heel and Sloan played the home town face. This angle had
been made popular ever since the infamous real life altercation between the
then World Wrestling Federation’s owner, Vince McMahon, and Bret “The Hitman”
Hart, which had further inspired the “Mr McMahon” heel persona that remained
popular during the late ‘90s. It later transpired that Sloan was a huge Bret
Hart fan and the rest was fairly easy to work out.
The show had some good matches and it was nice to see Jody,
Jonny, Scotty and Jorge work again. However, it was during the show’s rumble
match that Stu and I started to become annoyed by what we saw as blatant
attempts to rip off our ideas. A new wrestler called En?gma came out wearing a
gothic costume resembling Stu’s, another guy modelled himself directly after
the James O’Barr/Brandon Lee character “The Crow”, who had been a big influence
of mine, and the final straw came when a wrestler entered to “Malice Through
the Looking Glass”, the anthem Dead Souls had clearly become associated with
throughout the wrestling fraternity. While tempers slowly began to rise, LJ had
been walking around at ringside under the guise of a “media correspondent” for
his website. It was during one of these rounds that one of us noticed he was
rather close to the flimsy pasting tables that were going to be used for the show’s
“hardcore” element. I forget who offered LY £20 to “accidentally” fall through
one of those tables, but with our then vindictive and spiteful state of mind it
could have been any of us. LJ did the deed and we decided to mock the “ECW”
chant that used to accompany outrageous hardcore wrestling stunts with the
words “MFI! MFI! MFI!” To those who do not know, this is the name of the likely
manufacturers of the pasting tables used at the event.
Lee was ready for a fight and the rest of us were not far
behind. Any excuse would do. However, another incident during the rumble match
would completely shift our mindset and loyalties. From what I recall, and again
I may be wrong, Jorge Castano had kicked a member of the public in the face
very hard when he went over the ropes. The member of the public turned out to
be a relation of our “Crow” friend. The rumble ground to a halt, entrance fees
were refunded and the show was aborted as real fighting started to break out
during the match. Soon the FWA were holed up in their dressing rooms as the
rebel wrestlers seemed poised to start a riot. Then a message was sent round
that we had been spotted and our assistance required. Next thing we knew we
were being paid to escort Jorge and the rest of the FWA past the prospective
rioters!
The night’s excitement was not over yet. Big Jay McDonald
had been downing drinks in his usual fashion and was ready for a rampage. We
found ourselves talking the big man out of trying to turn over a car. He
settled with creating a dubious hedgehog out of a set of traffic cones instead.
Jonny Storm, Jody Fleische and his girlfriend ended up dining out with us at a
Chinese, and then sneaking into our Bed and Breakfast. All would have been fine
if Stu had not locked himself out of his room. We were in at 11pm, but no
matter how much we rang the bell we received no assistance. Attempts were made
to force the door, but in the end everyone stuffed themselves into the
remaining rooms.
I probably did the best out of the deal, as my room had only
one tiny bed and Jody and his girlfriend had to fight over a flannel on the
floor. Meanwhile Stu and Jonny were stuffed in a room with Big drunken Jay. Jay
apparently creaked when he snored. This became the butt of Jonny’s jokes at the
beginning of the night – “Mind if I move the side board, dear” - but soon
really became an annoyance. Bang! “Shit! Missed” exclaimed Jonny’s disembodied
voice. Bang! “Ow!” Jonny’s second flying boot had hit the target: the snoring
Jay, who then resumed his strange creaking snoring.
Somehow we all got to sleep, but by morning we really had to
move. Our three friends of course had not been paid for, so we had to get them
out unnoticed. I was down first, paying for my room and distracting the owner
from seeing Jody and his girlfriend being bundled out through the fire exit in
Chris O’Regan’s room. My ruse did not work. The owner was already very annoyed
about the noise we had caused in the night, despite not being there to help us
out with the room at the time she had specified. She spied Jody and his
girlfriend hot-tailing it up the stairs before they had reached Chris’s room.
Not really understanding the urgency of the situation Jody was actually
thinking he could sneak a breakfast from under this woman’s rather sharp nose.
She cried out to her husband – a more browbeaten and put-upon-man I have not
seen since – to stop “Those two girls!” Poor Jody, with his long hair and thin
frame, had been mistaken to be a prostitute and this was the accusation that
was then launched at me after the woman had returned puzzled after leaving
Chris’s room. Chris had concealed the fire exit, which she apparently knew
little about! This seemed amazing, considering there was an outside staircase
leading directly from it.
The woman was on a tirade after this episode and Stu was
threatened that a “Bodybuilder”, who was staying at the house, would sort him
out if there was any trouble. Stu feigned fear at this remark. Meanwhile I was given
the immortal statement: “We’ll put you on Hotel Watch, you’ll never stay in
Southsea again!” Well, I don’t know whether Hotel Watch did get our details,
but the second part of this outraged Guesthouse owner’s words seem to correct,
as I have yet to return to this particular coastal resort.
Don't forget to check out Jamie Clubb's main blog www.jamieclubb.blogspot.com
