a song for whoever: matt striker & kelly kelly edition

We figured it had been a while since we started a new regular feature at Wrestlegasm.com, and this one popped into our minds by way of serendipity. Every week we’ll each be scanning through the wrestling happenings and dedicating a song to someone who’s had a particularly eventful one. Imagine we’re giving them apt entrance music just for one week.


I’ve got the blues. Not because I lost the Royal Rumble predictions. That was expected. And not because this week’s depressing episode of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding was the most tragic yet. I’m sat on a bar stool and blowing into a harmonica on a dark, empty stage because my beloved Matt Striker has been removed from Smackdown commentary. He’s been removed from commentary for BOOKER bloody T, who growled his way through Smackdown with the finesse of a bulldozer this week.

I’m crushed. Thank god I remembered to watch Superstars this morning or I’d have been Striker-less for the whole weekend. When someone sent me a mid-week tweet that I wouldn’t like the latest episode of Smackdown, I figured it would just be some storyline I’d be unhappy about and requested no spoilers. Then the Sidekick started hinting that he was worried about watching SD with me. I was perplexed and asked to know what had happened. He told me. I repeat… crushed.

In a normal week I’d just assume he’s having a holiday or working on another project for a couple of weeks. But you see, this is not a normal week. The night of the Rumble, after I finally stopped staring at the ceiling at 6:00am, I fell asleep and had a dream. I dreamt that Matt Striker was leaving wrestling because nobody took him seriously. We spoke about it and I tried to talk him out of it because, you know, he’s my mentor. Then he invited me to his leaving party, which happened to be a black-tie event. I got all dolled up, arrived at the party and got upset when I saw him. So he danced with me to talk to me about why he had to leave. The rest is a little more….romantic, so I’ll leave it there. But it’s rather spooky that I dreamt he was leaving, then he gets taken off Smackdown. I definitely can’t tell you about the second Striker dream I had a couple of nights ago. It makes excellent TV in my mind though.

The only thing keeping me going at the moment is the assumption that they’re moving Matt to Raw to take Lawler’s place while he has his title run against the Miz. Pray for me, because if that’s not the case I’ll have to start watching NXT again. Now that’s love and devotion. My song for Striker is one that I’m sure he will approve of. It also sums up my mood after watching a Striker-free Smackdown. 😦


I almost feel bad for this, as Kelly has come on leaps and bounds recently. This weeks Smackdown main event was a really fun match and she really showed just how well she and the other divas can do given half a chance. Unfortunately however, there’s more to Sports Entertainment than just the “Sports” bit, and that’s where Kelly falls down. From her backstage segments with Drew McIntyre to her crying after being sacked on Friday: there is only one song that helps describe this situation

After watching her “outstanding” acting before the match, and witnessing her incessant, and frankly unnerving, screaming during it, myself and the Boss Lady were struck by the though of how horrific a Kelly Kelly sex scene would be. Imagine for a second that the WWE started making more risque movies, and she had to pretend to be in the throes of passion? A Kelly Kelly sex scene would surely put the infamous pool scene in Showgirls to shame.

Anyway, there you are Kelly, the somewhat dubious honour of being my first “Song For Whoever” recipient. Hope you enjoy the song, I saw Terrorvision on their “last ever gigs” in 2007 and they were amazing, but they’re filthy liars and are still going strong. If you take anything away from all this though, I would hope that it is the realisation that if I keep mentioning a “Kelly Kelly sex scene” we’ll get a few more hits for the blog.

On a similar note, I like to call this image


cool britannia week: part four

I’m totally stealing this first part from LOL, Wresslin‘, but under these bluesy circumstances and on this occasion, I’m sure Adam & Matt would allow it just this once. So….

For a theme tune to accompany this post, please press play and enjoy…….

It’s always a bit torturous following a sport or, more specifically, a league which takes place in a distant timezone. I’ve watched NFL (American) football for probably 13 or 14 years, though apart from the day off work I book for the Superbowl I don’t worry too much about missing matches. It’s lost a bit of sparkle in recent years. NHL hockey, however, is another matter. I’ve had many a sleepless night because I’ve stayed up watching men on skates beat each other up on ice lately. And then a few years ago I started taking an interest in Australian rugby league (NRL), which usually takes place on a Friday morning when I’m at work. Although, at least before Setanta went down the pan I was able to watch on Saturday mornings. (GO MANLY!)

So too with wrestling. Ultimately, the majority of WWE matches take place in the US and Canada. For those of us living in European timezones, it means that Raw is broadcast in the middle of the night and, in most circumstances, staying up through the night to watch PPVs usually involves booking a day off work. We’re a dedicated bunch, giving up our precious annual leave for the sake of wrestling. I hope Vince McMahon appreciates us.

Like I mentioned when I announced Cool Britannia Week, North Americans are spoilt for choice when it comes to WWE shows. I’m not saying that everyone has access to shows every week. But generally they go to the same places over and over again, and they tend to be reasonably accessible to most within a few hours drive. A passport certainly isn’t required to attend a show. It’s accessible. So I doubt North Americans will really understand why most British WWE fans who attended this week’s tour shows have found themselves in a strange melancholic state once the shows they attended were over. Even the people who didn’t go to any of the shows were blue. Their jealousy at not having a ticket made them sad.

WWE tours the UK just twice a year. It is the only opportunity we have to see our beloved superstars up close and, if we’re lucky, maybe shake their hand too. My intention was not to go to the Raw show on Tuesday night, but the Smackdown show released the kind of endorphins that are amazingly addictive. Like a narcotic. Like a song you play twenty times in a row because you need to hear how great it is again.  So I went again. I know others went to more than one show too.

When it was all over and the WWE wagons rolled off into the sunset to go to another city, I felt a bit lost. I’m usually pretty bored at work on a normal day, but as I sat at my desk on Wednesday, office life seemed extra humdrum. My office-mate even bought me surprise cappuccino to cheer me up.


Come back, John Cena. Come back, CM Punk. It didn’t last long enough. Let’s do it all over again. And again. And again. This sad feeling took me completely by surprise. I hadn’t expected to feel blue when they left. I had a major case of the post-wrestling blues. I was having withdrawal symptoms. It was odd. But I was lifted by the fact that I wasn’t alone. At least, judging by the messages I’ve had.

It was suggested to me via email that it’s kind of like having an amazing, hot boyfriend who spends the most incredible week with you and then dumps you, moving on to another woman without a second thought for how great your time together was. I think it’s more like a holiday romance. It’s exciting, intense and it makes your tummy tie up in knots. You know it has to end and you’ll have to part ways, but you put that out of your mind so as not to spoil the fun. But then it actually ends and you’re like OHHH IT ENDED AND THEY HAVEN’T EMAILED ME IN A WEEK! SOB-SOB-SOB

The good news is that they’ll be back after Wrestlemania 26, though not to Cardiff at the moment, which both puzzles and upsets me. Until then, come on Britain. Stretch yourself out of that foetal position. Let’s all hug each other and share memories of this week over cups of tea and a pack of chocolate HobNobs. We’ll get through it togethaaaaah. Sing in chorus….

And I guess that’s why they caaall it the bluuuuues

TIME ON MY Haaaaaands

Could be time spent with yoooooou

Laugh-ing like chil-dren

Li-ving like lo-vers

Ro-lling like thun-der


And I guess that’s why they ca-aaall it the bluuuuuuuues!



Someone hold me! Hold me tight!

Thanks, Dolph.

Thanks, Dolph.