April 7th, 2024. Wrestlemania 40, the opening act of Night 2. A 6ft buff Scotsman struts down the catwalk to the ring, through a saber arch with bagpipes blasting. I turn to my friend and remark that this is the dumbest shit I've ever seen, with a big smile on my face.
His opponent, another 6ft buff lad, continues his tradition of dressing himself by running through his wife's curtains. They kind of dropped this gimmick in 2025, unfortunately. I miss Mardi Gras Seth Rollins.
They pretend to kick the shit out of each other for 10 minutes, mostly by actually throwing each other around in increasingly wacky scenarios, with the Scotsman taking a brief break to send a tweet mid-match. Not a joke.
Scotsman wins, before becoming the definition of hubris by mocking another rival in the commentary box to the extent that he gets beaten up for shits and giggles, before the Money In The Bank holder (winner of a silly match that gives the holder an instant no-questions-asked world championship match on demand) sprints into the ring, performs the world's quickest ass-kicking, steals the title off him and leaves. This proceeds to set off the biggest feud of 2024, containing several months of the most idiot babygirl promos, and three banger matches. It's funnier the less I explain.
This, and many other idiotic storylines, has confirmed to me the theory that professional wrestling is advanced drag. The wrestlers are playing complete caricatures, love to show off skin, are supremely talented in ways that aren't immediately obvious, and have extremely tacky soundtracks following them around. Prove me wrong.
The more indie you go, the sillier it gets. Turn to AEW for blood matches, storylines that revolve around being bald, and the single greatest kayfabe actor of all time (MJF). Turn to the national indies (in my case, OTT) for shouting "you fat bastard" at a ripped British dude while a big schmeaty Irish lad is doing a striptease to rapturous applause. We love and support Big Damo around here. Also there's a lad who's main gimmick is vaping in the middle of matches.
For almost a full year I carried the tradition of McIntyre Monday, a weekly celebration of why you the worshipper were so much better than everyone else. Drew was in the middle of his heel run and it just made sense. It made for strangely satisfying motivation. Also Drew (real name Andrew) is a real-life babygirl who goes to cat cafes and looks after all the women wrestlers when travelling and on nights out. Great dude to support.
The interest has dropped off a bit recently - WWE is having a poor run, and is politically rancid. AEW is picking itself up after a weak few months. OTT is only up in Dublin even if I'd like to go up maybe once a year. But it's still delightfully stupid and makes me laugh.
Happy McIntyre Monday bitches. No I don't care if it's Wednesday it's a state of mind you fool
