British Wrestling

Eee y’ bugger!
Tek that!
Cries Sybil, 52
Darlington Dolphin Centre 1982
This is British wrestling
As not his real name
Takes another oversized handbag
To the brain
Claret pours from
His ugly head
Me gran weren’t one
For that type of language
But things that were needed
Were bloody said

Up and down the country
Civic halls
Placed the lycra’d
Local big lads in the
Blue rinse coliseum
It’s baby face v
Out of towner
Let’s guess who plays the villain

The industrial language rains
The blood flows
The masks fall
The nudges wink
The sherry loving sports reporters
Give their critiques with a clink
It’s a fix!
It’s bloody not!
See you at’ next one
On the dot!

Before the starry night
Bleeds into day
Backstage
The 3rd division
Fat lads undo their boots
Shake hands
Spit their fees on
Bitter pints
Tabs and buses
To take the
Pain away
Before the inevitable
Clothesline
From the missus