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SHORTCUTSIn a clash that defied the jovial nature of the show’s title, two warriors put past differences behind them in a brutal but frank display of ultra-bloody sportsmanship. It proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the BCW Heavyweight Championship is still as keenly contested as it was three years ago when the Denham Dome first rumbled to the sound of young bucks desecrating one another. Making an emotional return to Witney’s hallowed turf for the first time in 26 months, a small band of merry men kept the flame burning bright during a brief but intense spectacle codenamed ‘BCW July Jiggery III’.
The few people on-hand to witness Matty D successfully defending his cherished championship against the hyperpotent threat of No.1 Contender [CENSORED], will retain the images and the impact in their memory-banks for a long time to come. Surely the master had his ex-pupil’s number? It had however been the basis of many a good movie, a few bad ones, in fact, of nature since the dawn of time; the young come through to displace the old; the student eventually overpowers the one who taught him everything he knew, if nothing else, sheer testament to the tutor’s exemplary training of his protégés. It’s evolution, baby.
And so it proved @JJ3. The years of warfare on the orange ‘n’ blue front line served The SuperBeast well in arguably his stiffest test since two reluctant dykes in The Keys last year. If The Shooter held a psychological edge over his larger yet junior adversary, it didn’t show as The D-Man simply unleashed unbridled power to take it full-on to the legitimate badass from the world of Ultimate Fighting during a gripping and rip-snorting contest.
The momentum swung backwards and forwards repeatedly as 450lbs of wild animal butted heads, traded closed fists and hammered home slams and suplexes that must have caused regional Richter scales to sweat. Both men amassed several 2.9 counts before Matteus Denham eventually went that crucial tenth further, thudding [CENSORED] through a waiting table with a monstrous Power Bomb that concluded an epic. Well, almost. Further action was still to follow even after the final bell had rung, with [CENSORED] seizing the lusted BCW gold from the grasp of Commissioner Gwah, pacing ruefully over to the victorious 14-Inch Monster and contemplating his next step.
Many feared that the ultra-competitive nature of [CENSORED] might again lead to the despicable sore loser routine that had tarnished Hellbound II in February. However, in earlier shepherding his ally Synn from the ring, despite The Roker Rebel’s willingness to help [CENSORED] attain the hallowed gold, [CENSORED] had demonstrated a considerable sense of fair play towards this monumental occasion. This continued in earnest as the defeated man nobly extended his hand towards Big D, giving the holy grail over with no qualms before heartily congratulating El Guvnor. All on-hand applauded such a fine show of sportsmanship, that which had rounded off a small but scintillating show in heartening style. "One day," uttered the miffed martial arsekicker as he departed, hinting that this feud between teacher and pupil still has not been finitely laid to rest. That can only be a good thing if it leads to more battles as thrilling as this one further down the chronological line.
Proceedings had kicked off with a little pomp, Commissioner Gwah and two big dicks stalking to ringside back in the splendiferous surroundings of ye olde Denham Dome to the dulcet tones of ‘Grab Them Cakes’, all reassuringly familiar and indeed reminiscent of some jiggery three years previously. After an incoherent reading from The Overseer, The Commish was then to announce that Drusifer’s enforced absence this day meant ‘Sif’ had been stripped of the HardKore Championship, the much travelled strap being vacant for the first time since its rather rude inception almost three annums back. The Other Living Legend issued a challenge to anybody vaguely interested in contesting a bit of rough in order to become the proud owner of this jaded jewel. Naturally, RBD was the first to take Ghan up on the offer, scenting the chance to become the unprecedented 18-time holder of the title he founded.
Who else would join the party though? Previous Hardkore outings had seen everyone and his grandfather turn out for a spot of baking-trays at twenty paces. This time around, a mass influx was not to come though; instead, there was simply the sound of a motorbike firing up, all looking on in bewilderment as Synn, clad in sunglasses and a leather jacket, puffing on a ciggy and just generally looking badder than old Mutha Hubbard with PMT, rode to ringside in a blaze of noise and smoke. Coolly stepping off the bike, The Beast from the North-East showed no fear in thundering straight into the fray, flooring with one single, thunderous clothesline the mastodon he’d trumped last time out at Loaded.
This was clearly to be a 2-man affair then, though the presence of a hirsute, mysterious third party in the ring intrigued many. Sporting a ginormous afro hair-do, it was claimed that the man’s name was, subtly, Rick Denton, allegedly a random Rastafarian who’d been recruited as the match referee. The man appeared at least unbiased and quite proficient as an official, efficiently counting and not afraid to admonish infringements of the rulebook.
Synn remained in command from the get-go, dominating early proceedings by mixing in the occasional, deft wrestling hold with the inevitable weapons barrage that goes hand in hand with HardKore. The brawl soon spread to all corners of the palatial Denham Dome, RBD managing to reverse the momentum temporarily before paying the price for having the gall to try and sabotage The Gatesheadbanger’s bike. ‘The Keys’ is synonymous with extreme violence and buffoonery in Witney - Synn replicated this spirit, producing the keys to his bike and heinously raking RBD’s forehead with the said instruments. From there, The Rude One fled like his name was Hussein, though this particular dick-tator would also be captured, The Big Northern Man pasting Dreas on the driveway by ramming him into a bush and then twatting him with a hose-pipe.
More rout than drought, Dreasmond’s drubbing was complete when Synn hammered the behemoth full-on in the chops with a tyre, causing the jolly, green giant to sadistically topple over onto a large bag full of cuttings from a holly bush. Pricks galore. From there, Synnster made a successful cover to win the bout. Along with the official, he raced back to the ring area in order to be presented with his well-worn trophy. Celebration would turn to desperation however as suddenly Rick Denton unveiled himself. Those who had been naïve enough not to see through the uncunning moniker and disguise, looked on in shock as the bush-sporter hit the Nickerdropper manoeuvre on Synn, nailing the Mackem onto a road-sign and gaining a 3-count before escaping with the cherished championship. It had been none other than Nick Denham! The Raw Deal is notorious for regularly having his head buried in some very hairy places, thus this latest ruse should have come as no surprise.
Another pounding was then to follow for the unfortunate Wearsider; RBD had come back to, returning to ringside under the impression that he could still knobble Synn via the 24:7 ruling and seize his gold back. The big lad was utterly unaware of Nicky D’s intervention, simply blasting the Synner through a table with a Super-Terroriser before being informed that Synn was not the champion and that any attempted lateral press was futile. An irate Big F’n Deal stormed to the back in search of young Nicholas John.
Somewhat jovially, perhaps even a little distressingly, promos done and dusted, attention focused onto the [CENSORED] v SuperBeast ordeal that was imminent and most mouth-watering indeed. A clash of the titans that we had waited some ten months for was finally to unfurl before us in all its brutal glory. The challenger, [CENSORED], confident that now was his time, was accompanied to ringside by Synn. Displaying an unfamiliar yet laudable streak of fair play, [CENSORED] commanded that Geordie hit the bricks and stay backstage for the fight, since this was strictly to be a 1-on-1 confrontation. Thus nobody would be allowed to discredit the nature of the moment of crowning glory of the man they call "Stoggdale". This professionalism that had commenced exuding from The Martial Arsekicker since the surprising conclusion to ‘May They Fight 4’ when he turned 180 degrees and embraced Synn’s dogged efforts, was welcome and to be applauded.
It was here and now, the waiting finally over as The SuperBeast thundered to ringside accompanied by his ever-present theme tune of the same title, returning at last after more than a two year absence to his spiritual home, the scene of many of his great, early, BritChamp triumphs: Ye Denham Dome. Garbed in his violently red gear, the electricity could now be cut with a knife as Mr Loud Trousers ripped his Johnny Blaze shirt off, before holding the hallowed and hunted gold aloft over his head, maybe for one last time. We would see.
Those who had indeed come to see, salivated as finally the 200+ lb. warlords locked horns, butting heads until the champion upped the ante and shoved his stocky opponent to the canvas. Irked, Denton’s former trainer initiated an Irish whip that finally resulted in a quick roll-up and a 2-count. Before Mr Miaggi could collate any momentum however, The Beast annihilated him with a beefmongous clothesline from nowhere. Damn near decapitated and likely in need of a dentist, the challenger looked rocked as his flickering senses told him to get back to a vertical basis. Incredibly, another large lariat of the same ilk noggered [CENSORED] once more, well and truly on the ropes as a seismic bodyslam and a legdrop witnessed the champ amass a 2-count of his own.
Real powers of recovery meant that [CENSORED] was just about able to hold on in the face of this barrage, staying in the match until the slightest half chance might allow him to reverse his fortunes and reassert his undoubted ability. This came in the form of an Electric 6 flavoured kneebar that was quicker than a hiccup, [CENSORED] again demonstrating his mastery at converting defence into offence as he produced the said submission by intercepting a Matteus volley. A venomous savate kick and a belting bodyslam of his own was suddenly testament to how the tide had turned in [CENSORED]’s favour. It was now Denham’s turn to show resilience and staying power, and to exemplify just why he was BCW Heavyweight Champion for the third time.
As [CENSORED] turned the screw, applying numerous holds to wear this foe down, there was a short-lived period of optimism for Witney’s Wonder Womanizer as he hit a rapid-fire sequence of three suplexes. This was cut short though as a low blow to the celebrated pineapples stopped Matt in his tracks. With nodgers on the agenda, it was to be noted that on at least two occasions, [CENSORED] very nearly came free at the side, such was the ferocity of his martial arts kicks coupled with the skimpiness of wrestling attire around the groinage. However, this particular exhibition was swiftly averted as the boys were smartly back in the barracks before any real distress was caused, such as an eye being poked out.
Just as it appeared Matty D was for the chop, he had the presence of mind to power out of [CENSORED]’s notorious Brazilian Guillotine manoeuvre, catapulting a steel chair into the projectile [CENSORED]’s head in merciless fashion. This opened Remco Silvera’s head up like a tin of beans and served as a red rag to the bull. As the crimson tide seeped, a red mist descended and the challenger now seemed to find new motivation and thrust, actually asking to be nailed across the noggin with a dustbin. Needless to say, The 14-Inch Monster duly obliged, declining to hold back whatsoever and even considering compounding that attack with a beer keg to the head, though The Beast had second thoughts about utilising such a special friend as a weapon.
That hesitation allowed the rejuvenated shoot fighter to riposte, successfully hitting a Brazilian Guillotine and then a jawbreaker as the match truly moved up a gear and into the realms of the epic. Both men dug stupendously deep as they had the crowd and commentators on-hand gasping incredulously at their undying tenacity. Matty D was left soul-searching as [CENSORED] kicked out of the pinfalls that followed a Penile Implant and also the timeless Running Powerslam that had seen off many a rival. [CENSORED]’s fire still roared in his relentless pursuit of gold and The Beast was running out of ways to quench those flames. [CENSORED] even turned away Synn once more as The Roker Rebel came in to his friend’s aid, such was the blood-loss that was apparent.
Neither camp would be throwing the towel in, that was for sure; they would fight till the death if need be. Thankfully, the boundaries of mortality would play no part as finally a conclusion arrived. Having somehow managed to emerge from the rubble of three further jawbreakers, a desperation forearm to the face bought D sufficient time to mastermind a halt to proceedings. Hauling [CENSORED] some five feet into the air, the boy Denham propelled his adversary through the announce-table with an explosive Power Bomb that shredded wood and finally distilled Silvera’s resolve enough to permit the all-crucial 3-count that drew a line under this spellbinding display.
More than simply another successful defence of his title, this vanquishing of his mentor surely represented The D-Man’s finest accolade thus far on a long and winding, up and down road of over three years. This was seemingly confirmed as the defeated foe gave the outcome his official blessing. [CENSORED] looked longingly into the gold that had eluded him this time, before nobly handing the grail across to his conqueror, shaking D’s hand and embracing him as applause rightly rang out from all those witnessing this powerful scene.
As Stoggdale held Denton’s arm aloft, he stared into the camera and said with utter conviction, "One day". With a lingering scent that one day such a momentous encounter might be re-enacted, one sensed that we will inevitably behold these warriors do battle once more, at a later date. All who were fortunate enough to have taken in the colossal collision would undoubtedly give up their time without even a blink of the eye and reconvene to see a repeat of such manna from grapple heaven. The Beast ruled supreme, but The Shooter could hold his head high. BCW tried to draw breath after an awesome roller-coaster ride that had truly reinforced the reputation of The Orange ‘n’ Blue Crew as serious sports-entertainers, more than just a bunch of jesters up for a spot of larking and jiggery-pokery.