xmas round-up

Sooo I am indeed back in Britain and making an attempt at recapping the past week or so’s wrestling events. I can’t promise it’ll be any good but considering a) It’s Christmas Eve  b) I had the travel-day from hell yesterday and c> I’m battling jet-lag, you’re lucky to have anything at all,  so be grateful. I could be stuffing my face with shelled nuts, Twiglets, purple Quality Streets and tea, lounging in my new t-shirt and slippers, and flicking the TV between The Chronicles of  Narnia and the Jimmy Stewart marathon on TCM right now. Actually, I’m doing all those things…. but I’m also recapping wrestling events. For you. I’m lovely

First, the travel report: I left Nashville heavy of heart but was buoyed by the number of random strangers who took pity on my tears and wished me a Merry Christmas in both Nashville and Charlotte airports. There was the college boy who sat next to me on the first flight and discussed literature with me, the Starbucks dude in Charlotte who offered to re-write my name on my red cup because he misspelt it, the young American guy who asked me if anyone would kill him if he called football ‘soccer’ in London….. the list goes on. America, you’re very nice.

But my Christmas spirit was stretched to the limit yesterday.  I settled into my seat on the Transatlantic portion of my journey to (hopefully) sleep through most of it, but there was a mechanical problem with the toilets on the left hand side of the plane and we were left on the runway for two hours…..and not so much as a drink of water or a packet of pretzels offered. We finally got going but we were very late. On landing I got through passport control quickly but the sluggish baggage handlers took a full hour to start despatching our luggage, so I missed the bus I’d booked to Cardiff by 20 minutes. I was then charged £5 for the privilege of printing a new ticket on the 11:40am bus and hanging around Gatwick Airport for a further two hours. Finally on the bus, I was informed that the M25 was chocker and that it may cause severe delays. To cut a long story short, thanks to that and a snow induced 40mph speed limit on the M4, I arrived back in Cardiff at 6:30pm – exhausted, starving and with my spine shaped like a shepherd’s staff. Joy to the mother effing world!

Possibly somewhere near Oxford

Ok, wrestling. The last recap I gave you was the Smackdown before TLC, so let’s start there.  As you know, I usually watch PPVs alone and in the early hours of the morning. Being in America meant I could watch it with company and in a sensible timezone. Although, sharing the show with five other people, two dogs scrapping to be Alpha-Male and four cats, it was a struggle to keep up with all of Matt Striker’s quips. Nevertheless, quite a few titles changed hands that night so I’ll run through them.

Despite nobody believing it would happen, Sheamus beat John Cena for the WWE Championship, and it appears that my Celtic blood is thicker than the deep waters of love that I swim in for John Cena, because I shouted……

…..when John accidentally launched himself through that trestle table.  And in further ‘blood is thicker than water’ goodness, Drew McIntyre beat John Morrison for the Intercontinental Title. Ooooh my blood felt so thick, though that may have been the calorific South-Eastern US diet clogging my arteries with every delicious mouthful of double-loaded baked potatoes and BBQ pork ribs. Nom. Back to the Tokyo diet after Christmas.

Helps you work, rest, play and have severe chest pains.

DX beat JeriShow in the TLC tag-match, which meant that Jericho and Big Show had to go their separate ways.  YAY! But that also means DX will be around until at least Wrestlemania.  BOO! Jericho face turn now? Go on. It’s my Christmas wish!  Not all the titles were dropped though. Michelle McCool retained over lovely Mickie James…..

Mickie, your boots are wicked but you left the price tag on. It's ok, I don't think anyone noticed.

……and Christian kept the ECW title in the first match of the night. It was epic enough to feature much later in the show. There was real blood and everything.

The Undertaker almost lost to Batista, which I was chuffed about, but then Teddy Long stomped out and ordered that the match should restart, giving Taker the win.

SIDENOTE: The set was Ikea-tastic.

Oh yeah, Randy Orton beat Kofi Kingston in the only non-title match of the night. I was in a pro-Randy living room and got carried away with the Viper enthusiasm, cheering for the glossy one at every possible opportunity.

No problem, sweetheart.

So that was the pay per view. The following Monday was a three-hour Raw to incorporate The Slammy’s; where the most accomplished superstars of the year take home a glistening piece of plastic and the audience disagrees with the choices like they actually mean something. Dennis Miller guest-hosted and totally bombed with his climate change denial jokes. I could go into lots of detail about the show but, even though I didn’t think it was as bad as most, it was pretty dire so I’ll just comment on the actual Slammy winners.

After various elimination matches, John Cena was crowned Superstar of the Year. Much as I love him, he wouldn’t have been my first choice but as John Cena currently holds superhero status, hardly surprising. The “Oh My” award went to Michael Cole for vomiting shellfish over Chris Jericho’s shoes at the Smackdown 10th Anniversary party. I can still smell that acid soaked shrimp from here. I’ve witnessed far too many drunken spewings over the past week, so I’ll move on swiftly.  Bad memories. The Divas had a match. In ballgowns. Really! And while Maria won Diva of the year (?!?!??!?!?) my lady-based award goes to Layla, for Most Inelegant Entrance to the Ring Ever Witnessed. Having the ladies wrestle in party dresses was silly to begin with, but choosing an impractical frock and having to be picked up and rolled into the ring by Michelle McCool was actually quite funny. Still in the fashion realms, despite all those lovely dresses, outfit of the night went to Dave Batista.

Amazing!

Amazing!

CM Punk won Shocker of the Year for retiring Jeff Hardy, but the Hardy Clan countered; Jeff taking Extreme Moment of the Year for his performance at Summerslam. Sheamus took Breakout Star of the Year, which was fair enough, and the about-to-part ways JeriShow took Tag-Team of the Year. Most obvious award of the night went to Taker and Shawn Michaels for their Wrestlemania match. I read somewhere that while Triple H and Randy Orton were waiting backstage to follow this match, Hunter turned to Randy and said “We’re fucked!” He alluded to just that as he handed that golden resin over to Shawn for Match of the Year. The only worry was that Shawn suggested that he and the corpse should go at it again at WM26. No. Don’t spoil my fantasy that the WM26 main event will be Rock and Cena. My pants might just explode if that happens and I know you all want to see my undies blown to smithereens!

KABOOOOM!

So that was Raw. I’m not going to lie, I watched last week’s Smackdown on the plane to London late on Tuesday night so I’m a bit sketchy on what happened. I was drifting in and out of sleep and trying not to nudge the guy next to me while he slept. I’ll do Smackdown in picture form.

Dave paid homage to Lady Gaga

Rey looked super-trendy in a plaid shirt and a Vuitton-esque mask

Punk started to look a bit crazy

Maria and Mickie did what I'll be doing tomorrow

Vickie wore a very nice dress

Jericho showed Punk how to do good beard

Khali returned. Bleurgh!

The Hart Dynasty did some nice mic work

Regina George and Gretchen Weiners had their traps shut

The toughest girl in school hurt the most popular girl in school (That reminds me, I REALLY need a box of hair dye!)

Dave did a CM Punk Krazy-Eyez impression when Rey Mysterio became World Championship N1C against the Undertaker

In other news….. Bret Hart is returning to the WWE :o, Mike Tyson will be guest-hosting on 11th January :o, Tribute to the Troops was lovely, Crotch Watch is still outstanding (I know, don’t hate me) and Andrew has been skiving while I’ve been out of the country. But he has got little kiddies to look after so I’ll forgive him.  There’s still time to cover this week’s Raw and Smackdown before the next ones so I’ll get to them a day or so after Christmas.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about the Wrestlegasm Staff Christmas Party. Before I jetted off to the land of the free, we had a knees-up at the Cardiff Wrestle Bunker. Andrew got the train down from upt’ North and Matt Striker flew in from New York. Actually, Matt Striker flew back to America with me on my first flight, but he lived it up in Envoy while I sulked in coach. He wasn’t very happy that I’d lined the entire bunker ceiling with mistletoe, forcing him to kiss me constantly. Andrew didn’t seem to mind that part, but we did get into a huge fight when we disagreed over whether Fosters was a superior cheap lager to Carling or not. I was cheerleader for the Amber Nectar, while Andrew favoured the British brew. Matt Striker had to separate us before the punches got too serious but he soon became ensconced in the brawl himself when he suggested we all drink wine. WINE! Anyway, we all get very drunk. Striker whipped his manhood out again, I took lots of pictures and Andrew threw up on my satin pumps Michael Cole-style. Messy night! But we all love each other, so there was no awkwardness the next day. Although, I’m pretty sure Striker deliberately left me sitting at the back of Economy on that flight!

Back in the realms of reality, I wish you all very merry Christmas and an exciting 2010. I certainly plan on making it a great one and I hope you do the same. Excuse my sentimentality but it’s Christmas Eve so….. from the bottom of my heart thank you so much for visiting this website, commenting and emailing me. I had no idea so many people would ‘get it’ and I’m thrilled that it’s been successful. A big Christmas kiss under the mistletoe for Andrew for ‘getting it’ more than anyone else, for joining me on the Wrestlegasm journey and for being a fab mate. I’m also splitting a kiss two ways for Adam & Matt of LOL, Wresslin‘ for calling me to war, for toughening up my skin and for being nicer than they’d have you believe they really are.  And just one more really smoochy one for Tennessee Andy, who told me I should start this thing ages ago and knew I could pull it off. MWAH to one and all!