Last night was quite possibly one of the most brilliant nights out I've had in London. It's the run up to Christmas and what better way of spending it than to kick back with a greasy taco and a frozen margarita, with your squeeze sat next to you in the front row of a Mexican wrestling night at the Roundhouse. Life really doesn't get much better than this.
From the moment the evening starts you know this is not an event for the PC-bound or faint of heart. I mean they actually refer to the mini wrestlers as dwarfs, and that spells Christmas. The closest you get to Snow White, apart from in the toilets, are the fabulously foxy juanitas marching around the ring holding up the signs indicating what round it was - like we gave a fuck!
This has a part for everyone. There's pantomime, there's cartoon world, there's drama and there is endless supply of frozen margaritas. Oh yeah, heaven. So the night kicks off with what I guess you'd call the clown element, like a circus. Only these aren't clowns. These are mini dudes who have muscles where most of us have fat. They spin, they throw themselves through ropes, over each other; they rock. I have heard that they tend to score very high on the pussy card as well. Featuring stars from Mexico like Octagoncito and Pequeño Pierrot this four way tag event sets the tone of the evening. Fabulously clad and honed to perfection my only thought was one of them looked like just a small bloke, not a dwarf (as they were announced). Mind you the wonderful MC, Gregorio ‘El Caballero Ingles', voiced similar thoughts.
You then have various bouts featuring the glorious Exoticos, Cassandro and Ruby Gardenia. Two cross dressing lovelies who most assuredly would not be hassled by queer bashers on Clapham Common as they would be perfectly capable of ripping off the arms of said scum and beating them to death with the soggy end. They were marvellous. In fact the main bout would have been something of an anticlimax had it not been for the appearance of El Hijo del Santo.
El Hijo is a superstar in Mexico, a god. Even we Londoners, starved of sun and magical realism, have heard of him. He comes on for a three-way tag event. Now I am ringside for all this, surrounded by ankle-biters all screaming and shouting and calling out for the good guys. The technicos are the good guys and the rudos are the bad guys. It's all pretty straight forward and traditional. It's Christmas, it's pantomime and, fuck me, Mystyco de Juarez has just landed in mine and my partner's lap. We spill our margaritas and we scream with laughter. Who cares? I have shaken hands with Hator, the heavy metal wrestler. A rudo. My hero.
Next time these guys are in London you have to go. If you don't then you will never know just how much fun can be had watching big blokes in masks throw each other around. It is raw.
On top of that the music is incredible with down and dirty mixes of all kinds of Latin American funky stuff, from grooves you know to new sounds all spun in with excellence by DJ Toy Selectah of the Mexican super group Control Machete.
If you don't get there next time then you have no taste.
