D-Lyrium Posted November 25, 2011 Share Posted November 25, 2011 (OOC: I'm from *literally* as far south as it's possible to get in the mainland UK, so you'll have to forgive any geographical or regional-based slip-ups. I've never been north of Alton Towers (or east of it, for that matter), and never been north of Bristol for longer than a day. However, I have watched copious amounts of 'Auf Weidersehn, Pet' and 'Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps', so I feel well enough researched). Also, credit goes to MJStark over in the Render Thread for the awesome render of the Wolfman (and probably many subsequent renders from the vast array he's released for us all). http://i1231.photobucket.com/albums/ee516/KelticWolf/TomasTrevaskis.jpg I smiled as I entered the small pub on the corner of Crawhall Road and Stepney Bank. He was sat at the bar, just as I'd been told he would be. Without meaning to disrespect the man, there was just something about Greg McPeterson which made you smile. His short, balding ginger hair and his now-rather-rotund figure made him the classic angry Glaswegian stereotype, except he was very rarely angry. Once you got to know the man, he was a good guy to know. Today, however, he looked like shit. There was no two ways about it. Upon closer inspection, his mobile phone - a cheap Nokia model - lay on the floor by his stool, the screen cracked and the battery and back panel strewn across the pub carpet. His glass was empty. His wallet likewise, laying open on the bar as he searched his pockets for small change. "I'll get this one, old friend," I said. Warrior turned, startled, and almost fell off his stool in his drunken stupour. "Tomas?!" he cried. "Tomas Trevaskis! How long's it been?" We embraced. More accurately, the hefty Scot practically fell on top of me, as I struggled to catch him. It wasn't a pretty sight. "You look like shit, old man," I informed him, good naturedly. I got the impression it wasn't news to him. "Aye, lad. It's been... it's been a hard few months. I won't bother ye with the details..." "Nonsense. By all means, fill me in." Over the course of many drinks (bankrolled by yours truly, of course), it turned out my old friend Greg was in rather a lot of trouble. Men of Steel Combat was barely breaking even on a show-by-show basis, due in no small part to the fact that his alcoholism was absorbing most of the meagre profits the company was making. They'd never truly recovered from Jeff Nova's talent raid a few years ago, having to pay large wages to entice the bigger independent names to work up north, owing to the fact that the 'big money contract' all independent UK wrestlers wanted was in the capital, so that's where they felt they needed to be. There were other reasons, of course, but I'll get to those. His son was a barely competent wrestler, but had been pushed to the moon by necessity (his son was about the only worker he could trust to turn up for work the next month). This in turn drove even more fans away. After the last show, the management at the Cobra Den where MoSC had been running their shows, informed Greg that the venue would no longer be available to him. They had an agreement to subsidise some of the cost of the venue with the increased drinks sales, but lately so few people had been turning up there was no point in that. Three months ago his wife had finally given up, and run off with some guy from America she'd met on the Internet. "Poor bastard," remarked Greg. "I wouldn't wish her on Bob Cronin, let alone some poor unsuspecting Yank". La pièce de résistance, he told me, was this afternoon. He'd had a phone call from his head booker and one of his top heels, Harley Neill. Neill and his partner Danny Patterson had accepted a contract from 21CW. Now, to be honest, the contract offer was a long time coming. In another time and place, I'm sure Greg would've been as happy for the pair as the rest of us. However, phoning your boss from a service station outside Darlington on the A1, en route to your new job, isn't really kosher. Especially when you know he's already in the mire and you're supposed to be his salvation. Regardless, the boys have to do what they have to do, and good luck to 'em. And yes, the fact that he considered this to be worse news than his wife divorcing him was testament to the character of the man. "I've barely *got* a roster, now," he muttered into his pint of Black Sheep. -=- Apparently, at some point during our pub crawl, I must've agreed to something. I woke up on Greg's sofa. Now, as a proud Cornishman I consider myself able to handle my ale, but this guy was on some other shit. He'd had a fairly substantial head-start on me, and we'd carried on for some time after I got there. He'd matched me pint for pint. Yet still, there he was in his boxers and an old t-shirt, flipping through the channels at a million decibels and swearing at the TV. My fuzzy head tried to clear itself and enable me to at least pretend to be sentient at this ungodly hour of the morning. It turned out to be half one in the afternoon. The cause of the earlier swearing was his 'beloved' Middlesbrough going down 3-0 at home to Blackpool in an early kick-off. The only reason he 'supported' Middlesbrough, I should point out, was that it pissed off most of the people he'd come into regular contact with. This did backfire somewhat when they got relegated to the first division some years ago, but all credit to the big man, he stuck with them. His *real* love, football-wise, was Queen's Park. This is probably why he supports Middlesbrough. And by 'supports', I mean he swears a lot when he reads that they've lost. Anyway, where was I? On Greg McPeterson's sofa. Well, it seemed I'd agreed to something, as he kept referencing our 'partnership' and how the future 'looked brighter after last night'. Brightness wasn't something I was a fan of at this time of day after a night out, but once I'd sobered up a bit it all came flooding back. I was his head booker. Shit. This was at once unwanted and unexpected. Still, I couldn't go back on it now. He'd been through enough and, if I was honest, I was glad of the challenge. I still got to be involved in the business that had been so kind to me over the years, and I didn't have to injure myself any more to do it. Win-win. "So when do I get to meet the lads?" I asked, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Eh, I usually don't see many of 'em until the show. Some of them go to a wee gym down the road for training sessions with Jimmy though. I'll see when they're next meeting up, maybe you could help out wi' that. Oh, and that reminds me. We still need to sort out a new venue... any ideas?" "I'll sort it, don't worry," I said, full of confidence. My plan, in actuality, was to ask Jimmy. 'Geordie' Jimmy Morris was a veteran of the UK wrestling scene, and a Geordie. So if anyone knew where to hold a wrestling show on Tyneside, it could reasonably be assumed he did. A quick phone call later, and it turned out Jimmy was holding a training session in a few days, which he said most of the remaining roster was attending. I made a mental tick on my to-do list, and slumped back onto the sofa. Blackburn Rovers vs. Arsenal was on the TV. Not quite the right Rovers, but they played in the same colours, so they'd do. Mind you, I'd support anyone against the French (not so much the Bretons though; gotta live the gimmick). --- Next time: Meeting the boys. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TakerNGN74 Posted November 25, 2011 Share Posted November 25, 2011 Interesting to see a MOSC dynasty on the boards good luck with them as I have heard that they are hard to run so I wish you luck. I have never played a game with them and probably will because I don't want to get a tumor. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boltinho Posted November 25, 2011 Share Posted November 25, 2011 <p>Great start sir. I even enjoyed your West Country-centric disclaimer.</p><p> </p><p> This board needs as many UK diaries as it can get.</p><p> </p><p> I'll be following with interest.</p> Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hashasheen Posted November 25, 2011 Share Posted November 25, 2011 (OOC: I'm from *literally* as far south as it's possible to get in the mainland UK, so you'll have to forgive any geographical or regional-based slip-ups. Plymouth? Anyway, this is going to be epic. I've got a great love for MOSC, and I can't wait to see what you do with them. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheEffect Posted November 25, 2011 Share Posted November 25, 2011 It had MOSC in the title. That's why i'm wotching. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phantom Stranger Posted November 25, 2011 Share Posted November 25, 2011 <p>You've watched much Two Pints?</p><p> </p><p> I'm sorry, man. I'm so, so sorry.</p> Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
20LEgend Posted November 26, 2011 Share Posted November 26, 2011 <blockquote data-ipsquote="" class="ipsQuote" data-ipsquote-username="Phantom Stranger" data-cite="Phantom Stranger" data-ipsquote-contentapp="forums" data-ipsquote-contenttype="forums" data-ipsquote-contentid="32869" data-ipsquote-contentclass="forums_Topic"><div>You've watched much Two Pints?<p> </p><p> I'm sorry, man. I'm so, so sorry.</p></div></blockquote><p> </p><p> <img alt=":D" data-src="//content.invisioncic.com/g322608/emoticons/biggrin.png.929299b4c121f473b0026f3d6e74d189.png" src="<___base_url___>/applications/core/interface/js/spacer.png" />.</p><p> </p><p> I will be reading as I have a weird underdog support of MOSC since they always go out of business and I want to see them pull through <img alt=":)" data-src="//content.invisioncic.com/g322608/emoticons/smile.png.142cfa0a1cd2925c0463c1d00f499df2.png" src="<___base_url___>/applications/core/interface/js/spacer.png" /></p> Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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