A pep-talk with the Hardcore Butler

Cirencester, a Cotswold's town in the lower Midlands of England seemed to be funny kind of place for a wrestler to retire. A strange place upon first glance. Once a visitor hits the centre of town it's possible to see why one would choose to live here. The old buildings that cover the centre gave a nice old feel to the place, and the high cost of homes there kept out the riffraff and the antisocial behaviour.

If only the fucking one-way system was a bit easier to navigate, thought Joxide as he did a 7-point turn in a one-way street and drove off the correct way. He'd been driving around the city centre for about ten minutes now and was looking for a place to park. Sighing, he settled on a police bay. Fuck the fine, he thought. By the time they write to him to say about his confiscated car he'd be long gone, back in Chile. He decided to let the car rental company deal with it.

Joxide killed the engine of the rented Honda and jumped out of the car into the glaring sunlight, sparking his roll-up as he did. He checked his iPhone map and turned the right direction, then headed off down Castle Street towards his destination, the Black Horse Inn.

The large stone building was like most of the others in Cirencester, old terraced, and the pub took up three blocks. You just knew pubs like these would have a wood fire and a group of old local men sat near the bar wearing trilbies and drinking real ale. It was getting a bit chilly out, so Joxide puffed the last of his rollup, threw it on the ground and stepped inside the Black Horse.

The heat greeted Joxide's cold bones as he entered. The wood fire was going in the corner and a bar hand was stoking the flames. Joxide scanned the bar area and saw a group of old local men sat near the bar wearing trilbies and drinking real ale. Ha! Go figure.

Joxide ordered a pint of some rough local cider and looked around, before his eyes set on the grinning man in the corner. Aha. Time for another blast from the past.

Joxide sauntered over to the old gent and extended his hand, the old man shook it and Joxide down.

Wow, age hadn't been too nasty to the old boy. He remembered a few less frown lines but his hair was maintaining a slight silvery tint which wasn't bad for a man in his sixties. Impeccably dressed for the occasion, as always, Joxide's prediction was right. The old chap fitted in well amongst this town of toffee-nosers.

"Hey, old man! It's been, how many years?"

The man formerly known in TX-Dub, CWA & TXA rings as Jeeves smiled warmly.

Jeeves, brought into wrestling by Joxide, entered the profession at the rip old age of 57, and did well considering. His formal training wasn't really much. With a title such as the self-proclaimed "Hardcore Legend of TX-Dub" it was easy to see why. Jeeves, The Hardcore Butler, competed almost exclusively in hardcore matches throughout his short career. He was a CWA Hardcore champion and TXW's last Hardcore champion. In his first few matches he became the instant fan favourite. He was the cliched underdog. An old man fighting much bigger, musclier, more oiled up men than himself, but he gave it his all, and usually he could get the win! After the closure of TXA's first form, Jeeves had called it a day and returned to Great Britain, taking retirement in this quiet, old town of Cirencester.

"Very well, young man. And yourself?"

If there is one man who can help me, thought Joxide, it's this guy. He was a master of under-the-ring weaponry and wasn't afraid to get stuck in. The man had a certain kind of belonging in hardcore matches, like Mick Foley or Terry Funk. He was no technician in the ring, or a powerhouse, but it gave Joxide confidence that the man he was speaking to was, against all odds, one of the very best in the field. IE, he was good at smashing bin lids over peoples' heads.

"Well Jeeves, I got to say I'm pretty good. I was just hoping I could get a bit of advice. you heard the news, right?"

Jeeves blinked.

"I'm afraid not. Care to fill me in? I don't hear much from the business these days?"

Joxide laughed. Poor old Jeeves, bless him, he wouldn't know how to work a computer if his life depended on it.

"There's a Reunion show. Some of the old CWA/TXA crew are getting together."

"Really? That sounds like a barrel of laughs."

"It probably will be, man. I'm in a tag team match."

"Oh? Against who?"

"Homer and Reggie Cyde."

"Oh, I say. If memory serves me right they're too pretty mean customers."

"Yup."

"And who's you're partner? Let me guess, Mark Rynx?"

"Afraid not."

"Oh? Then who?"

"You remember The Dragon? Orland Zacconi?"

Jeeves' eyes lit up.

"Of course I remember Orland! Angry man, liked hurting people, yellow teeth, right?"

"Hey, you got it."

"That should be good. Get me a ringside seat, will you, old boy?"

"Yeah sure, no problem. Jeeves, the reason I'm here is because the match is an old favourite of yours. It's a no-holds barred street fight."

"Oh, I say."

"Yeah. You got any tips? This is the first time I've been in the ring in about 5 years."

"Ha! This should be interesting! Well, I'll give you a little Jeeves-pep talk."

"Go on Jeeves, man, that's why I'm here!"

"They're a pair of hard bastards, right?"

"Right."

"Well, don't let them get all technical on you. Homer Cyde will probably have you."

"Cheers, Jeeves."

"But that snake Reggie, you got to watch out for him. He'll have you if you've got your back turned."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"My advice: get the bin lids out. Take a chair down to the ring with you. Grab a few tables for good measure. And don't forget Moppy!"

Joxide laughed as Jeeves pepped him.

"In fact, I'll give you my very own personal dictionary you can club the bastards with!"

Joxide is belly laughing now.

"Homer, make sure you take his legs out. Go for an arm as well, no mobility, no threat, right?"

"Right!" Joxide chuckled.

"And Reggie, well I'd recommend some chloroform."

Joxide sniggered again.

"Jeeves, I have missed this."

[2 hours later]

Joxide and Jeeves, a most unlikely combo, stumbled out of the Black Horse Inn and onto Castle Street, Cirencester. They walked side by side, staggering and propping each other up. Jeeves, drunk as a skunk on sherry and tequila shots, and Joxide, trying and failing to maintain his balance after a few too many ciders and tequilas, stumbled down the road to reach the taxi rank on the High street. Joxide had burst into laughter when Jeeves had invited him to his house for a few joints. Old people, eh. Who'd have thought it?

As they walked past a small alleyway, they both stopped. Walking slightly down the alleyway they stood side by side and urinated against a wall. In true pisshead fashion they were thinking 'yeah, I look sober', while taking the huge splashback, only to be noticed when they sit down. Somewhere they heard a window open and someone shout, so they aborted mission and headed up the road to the taxi rank.

This old friends business is good fun. I wish there were more of them!

ooc: Good stuff. Interesting advice on taking out Homer's mobility. Does Jox have the power to manhandle Homer and work joints against such an accomplished amateur wrestler? Could be intriguing, that.

One person could manhandle anyone as long as they've got enough weapons to hand!