Professional wrestling is an inherently disgusting industry. A bare-faced affront to workers’ rights made up of total mad men and monopolised by a lunatic with a toddler’s sense of humour, it was thought that we’d seen it all.
We’ve seen revolting unprotected chair shots, wrestlers blasted onto trays of dog sh*t, enlarged moles eaten off the face of women by boogeymen, exploitation of substance addiction and death by major, complicit companies, widow-pestering, hook suspension, wrestlers whose whole shtick involves bloodbaths knowingly infecting their opponents with hepatitis, attempted murders, actual murders, mercifully aborted angles capitalising on those murders, abortions, miscarriages, managers pissing their pants, slut-shaming, fat-shaming, gay-shaming, incest-celebrating, blacking up, mock hangings, fake prosthetic octogenarian breasts, women forced to bark like dogs on national television, hand births, Bells Palsy-as-banter, necrophilia-simulation-as-banter, attempted castrations, WWE selling Saudi Arabia propaganda, Tommy Dreamer drinking the Undertaker’s regurgitated tobacco spit, Tommy Dreamer’s teary-eyed promos…
And, if you like, the sight of Brian Knobbs’ gaping a**hole is a mere click away!
Wrestling has changed, Wellness Policy, it’s all gone PG, yada yada yada, they all play video games now.