Greetings, grapple fans

“By the late 1980s the interests of the working class had changed dramatically, and we wanted to capture part of where they’d gone to, rather than where they’d been. Wrestling was stuck in a timewarp – it personified the old English working class sitting around the telly, staring blankly. That was the image we were trying to kill, so we decided to kill the wrestling.”
Greg Dyke, Head of ITV Sport

“Why did it come off TV? Because it was crap! The young person wasn’t interested anymore. We lost an audience, the younger element, because it was all big fat horrible men. You don’t go to see big fat horrible men. You go to see dolly fellas.”
Jackie Pallo

At 4 o’clock most Saturday afternoons in the early 1970s you’d know where to find me, along with millions of other British people (including the Queen apparently): parked in front of the telly watching the wrestling on World of Sport. Introduced as always by commentator Kent Walton with the salutation “Greetings, grapple fans!” this version of wrestling was very different to the slick, hyper American WWF that we know today, it was rather more low-budget, Bingo Hall shabby than glitzy Madison Square Garden spectacular, meat pies and Pale Ale instead of Big Macs and Coke.



But that’s not to say it lacked showmanship and characters. There were bad guys to boo like Mick McManus and Jackie Pallo, the flamboyantly camp glam-rocker Adrian Street, the great Johnny Kwango (one of my favourites) with his lethal flying headbutt move, the man-mountain Giant Haystacks and, most exciting of all, the mysterious, masked man Kendo Nagasaki whose ritual unmasking on television had me riveted – he had a tattoo on the top of his head! And red eyes! It was brilliant. I thought he was like a superhero (or villain) with his costume and secret identity (turns out his name was Peter Thornley and he was from Stoke — not very exotic really.)



Watching old fights on YouTube it can seem painfully cheap and creaky now (though not without a certain low-rent charm), a relic of an England that was vanishing into the past along with our factories and coal mines. Then when American wrestling was first shown in the UK in the 1980s it must have made our home-grown version look really tatty — especially when the biggest English star at the time was the middle-aged tub-of-guts Big Daddy who looked like the only training he did was lifting pints. I’d stopped watching it myself about 10 years before but if I’d been a teenage boy in the late 80s faced with the choice between some fat old man who beat people by falling on them belly-first (his famous “splash” move) and a Hulk Hogan who didn’t just dress like a superhero but had the muscles of one too, it wouldn’t even be a contest, called by the referee after a total KO — the “referee” in this case being Greg Dyke who took wrestling off the air in 1988.

A similar thing happened to English cafes when McDonald’s came to the country, it was a cultural bliztkrieg we didn’t have the ammo to defend against and wrestling was the equivalent of a stewed, chipped mug of tea in a run-down greasy spoon.

And, yes, I know it was all fake.

Download: Nutted By Reality – Nick Lowe (mp3)

Quotes from The Wrestling by Simon Garfield (terrific book)
More posters here.

Something for the Weekend



Magnificent. I believe Eddy Grant is the chap in orange.

Junior Choice


Oof. This one’s a bit heavy.

Download: The Chase – Propaganda (mp3)

Mickey Mouse Will Tear Us Apart


Believe it or not but this is a Joy Division-inspired t-shirt being sold by Disney. I guess I should be outraged at this besmirching of a band that meant so much to me when I was 18 but I just find it funny as I’m too old to have a dog in that fight anymore. I might even get one myself.

Download: Novelty – Joy Division (mp3)

New Monday



I wouldn’t say that I was a massive fan of Welsh songstress Cate Le Bon (not yet anyway) but I do find her interesting and I do love her voice which sounds like a Nico who is high on fresh country air instead of heroin. This is a rather lovely (but spiky) tune from her new album Cryk.

(PS: Turns out I actually had a mild case of pneumonia last week. Getting better now but bear with me if content is a bit thin here for a little while, I’ve been too busy shivering and coughing up a lung to write anything.)

Something for the Weekend



Bit of a forgotten minor classic this one. This was a one-hit wonder for Mr. Big in 1977, and though they look like poncey Californian hunks with their bare chests and flowing locks, they were actually from London.

(Apologies for my absence this week, I’ve been laid up with the flu)

The Way They Woz



This is wonderful, and a great document of when the King’s Road was an exciting (and a little scary) place to be. When Ann Wobble says “There’s me!” and the camera zooms in on her younger self I found it quite touching too, you can feel the glow of youth reaching across the years. I’m the same age as her and if I saw film of myself from that year I think I’d be more cringing than delighted.

Something for the Weekend



My cockles need warming.

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The sentimental musings of an ageing expat in words, music, and pictures. Mp3 files are up for a limited time so drink them while they're hot. Contact me: lee at londonlee dot com

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