Wrestling hot gay

Growing up, I had a love. Each Friday darkness, in the absence of a social life, 11 year old me would settle down in front of the TV with my dad to view WWF (now WWE) Raw is War. At the day it was the height of youthful masculinity. All the hard kids in school would see it without miss, then come in on Monday morning to clothesline-from-hell the rest of us and talk shop. In a second before social media, where dial-up internet was at the forefront of technology, our weekly dose of man on man action, followed by the sneaky free 10 minutes of Channel Babestation once the parents had gone to bed, granted boasting rights for the week, and helped to construct our LAD mentality.

It’s only when you move to these exist shows, full to the brim with sweaty middle-aged men and their children, baying for blood and tits, that you feel truly part of the manly mob. The crowd would soar up as one to cheer Stone Cold, curse the establishment heels, and

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