WWE TLC 2017: Review

TLC 2017 Asuka Emma
WWE

There's a historical truism in wrestling that interstitial concerts are the time-filling equivalent of a brief bout of the plague. Yes, it's something to focus on for a short while, but it will kill the entire crowd. So naturally, with TLC a little thin in terms of scheduled conflicts, WWE demonstrated their contempt for the fans with a quick blast of Elias-soundtracked black death. The wandering minstrel is absolutely cottage cheese in the ring, but he certainly draws the crowd into a fervour with his incessant strumming. In the great tradition of all budding faces, Jason Jordan was put in a position to benefit from the growing heel heat by showing up in his pants to lob vegetables in the direction of Elias. After trying everything else, sometimes it's best to go back to brassics.

We quickly warped to another dimension as a beaming Joe Victor/Vic Joseph presented the first of the evening's cruiserweight contests. Since turning evil, Jack Gallagher has taken to wearing a three-piece suit to emphasise his newfound nefariousness. It raises an interesting question: if there's no obvious benefit to be gleaned from wearing proper wrestling gear, why does anyone bother? No-one would willingly compete in front of millions of people in what's essentially a pair of speedos unless it offered a clear advantage, so there must be a reason they do. Jack's missing a trick here. It made perfect sense for likes of IRS or the Big Bossman to turn up in their uniforms, as trawling a suitcase of spandex to the day-job is tiresome, not to mention changing during the commute being awkward and inappropriate. But unless Gallagher's occupation is supposed to be "Brit", there's really no excuse for the switch.

Anyway, the match was pretty good, even if it did simultaneously exist in both a vacuum and parallel universe. Michael Cole hammered home the point, coming off his ciggie break by exclaiming "welcome back to TLC!" as if the purple tumblers were filling in for a scheduled station break. When the robots rise, he will kill us all.

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Editorial Team
Editorial Team

Benjamin was born in 1987, and is still not dead. He variously enjoys classical music, old-school adventure games (they're not dead), and walks on the beach (albeit short - asthma, you know). He's currently trying to compile a comprehensive history of video game music, yet denies accusations that he purposefully targets niche audiences. He's often wrong about these things.