After wrestling every Saturday the mother served up chops for tea. I have no idea why we always had chops on Saturday except to say that we did and they were lamb ones and served up with best bisto gravy. Afterwards if we ate them all up we could have home baking. Mr Kipling was a nomme de plum back in the day because all housewifes baked and my favourite was egg custard and rock cakes.
After she made the rock cakes and before wrestling started I would hover in the background waiting to clean out the mixing bowl and was a delicacy known only unto myself. Pre-cooked left over rock cake mix with currants rocked my world and it was always the simple things in life that aimed to please.
Big Daddy was a firm favourite and later came Cat-Weazle but it was Leon Aris The Man From Paris who could proper bang em out. No ladder fights or synchronized shite to be seen back in the day, but more brutality of the highest order and grappling at it's finest, I used to cream my crackers over Billy Two Rivers 25: 06 as I danced along performing his native american war dance to ward off the spirits.
