A few months ago, while attending a WAW show, some fans, normal wrestling fans, began to ask me; "What's this thing about the Sweet Saraya and chickens?" Well, now is the time to set the record straight, to bring this story out into the open, and this I feel is the perfect forum to do this.
You see, my job is promote WAW in any way I can, mainly on the Internet. Very often, people tell me that I am doing my job very well. But deep down, I often think of myself as having a second, unofficial job within the company - to torment a few of the wrestlers as well. Quite often, those tormented are the trainees, the gullible young kids who come into the wrestling world with high hopes, only to have their shorts pulled down in front of a room full of people.
But a few months ago, my main target was none other than the Sweet Saraya herself.
This innocent little game between us started one day in spring, 2002. I can't remember the exact day, but frankly, that isn't important.
One day, Ricky, Julia and myself were seated in the WAW office in Norwich. While Ricky and I were discussing WAW and website business, Julia stood alone near the heater, trying to find the one iota of warmth that emanated from the device.
At first, she was very quiet. She didn't say much as she seemed to play with her mobile phone. Then, she began to rub her stomach. It then started. The complaints. The first lady of British wrestling was hungry, and there was only one thing that would satisfy her hunger - chicken.
The small complaints began to gradually get bigger and bigger, until it got to the point where Ricky turned to her and said; "Will you stop your bloody moaning woman? You really do craze me sometimes!"
As I left the office, I really didn't think too much about this, but on the train back to Cromer that night, as I began to doze off, an idea hit me. Later that night, Julia would go onto the WAW website, and see the little surprise I had cooked up for her!
A few days later, I arrived at the Connaught Hall in Attleborough, in preparation for a show. As soon as I entered the hall, Julia gave me that knowing look. She had seen what I had done. On the first page of the website, I had put a picture of her I had taken in Fakenham about a month earlier, one of her blowing me a kiss. And underneath, I had placed the words; "I WANT SOME CHICKEN!"
With some small amount of trepidation, I approached Julia, and asked her if she had seen the website lately. With that mischievous grin of hers, she placed her arm around my shoulders, and whispered into my ear; "Beware! Because when you least expect it, I will strike!"
"I'd better give you this now as a peace offering then!", I replied, handing her a carrier bag. Opening the bag, Julia smiled at me, before questioning my parentage.
"Rick!", she yelled. "You'll never guess what he's done! He's brought me some fucking chicken!"
The show started a couple of hours later, but throughout the night, the WAW crew kept asking me, what's this whole chicken thing about? I promised to tell them all, eventually.
Our little private joke continued over the next few weeks. Because of work commitments, I was unable to travel to the Clacton show on April 18th. My reporter's chair was temporarily taken by trainee wrestler Matt Jones.
Before, it had become something of a tradition for Ricky to slap the Internet reporter on the head on the way to the ring. Not wanting Matt to miss out on this, I telephoned Julia on her mobile, with a special request. I wanted Matt to enjoy the same privileges as me, but I wanted to give my young friend a little more. So I offered Julia a bounty, of sorts - three cooked chickens if she would smack Matt upside the head on the way to the ring. Julia dutifully obliged that night, as did several others.
Two days later, as I arrived to observe the latest training camp in Hingham. I gave Julia her payment, and thanked her for services rendered. But deep down, I knew that I had to make this chicken/Saraya thing a sort of cult thing. After all, if Mick Foley could turn a grubby white sock into a cult item, why couldn't I do the same thing with some poultry?
The following day, one day after Julia had been crowned world champion, she teamed with her student, the Katty Katrina, against Angel and Kharisma in Hingham. I put the first stage of my plan into operation. During her match, several of the wrestlers and trainees were seated in the back row. I moved away from my usual ringside seat, and sat near Bruce, Danny and Matt, who had just engaged in a handicap match with each other about an hour earlier. I planted the seed, and Bruce was the first one to chant. In a deep, booming voice, "We Want Chicken" began to ring around the small hall. Several of the trainees followed suit, but sadly, none of the crowd seemed to follow suit.
Julia heard the chant, stared over at Bruce's section of the crowd, and quickly turned her attention back to the match. To be honest, I was a little disappointed that none of the paying customers seemed to take up the chant. But then again, the crowd was a little small that night.
I was determined to do this thing, but didn't get another opportunity until May 11th. WAW wrestler Steve Quintain was holding one of his regular charity shows in his hometown of Lowestoft, and that night, Julia would be teaming with Nikki Best against Angel and Kharisma.
In the small amount of time before that match, and just after Phil Powers and Paul Tyrell had put on a hell of a match, I noticed a young boy at ringside with one of those white board things, and a huge black marker pen. I quickly ran around to his side of the ring, and gave him some instructions.
"Write Saraya Wants Chicken on your board, and when she comes out, hold it out, right in front of her face!"
The boy, although puzzled, did as I asked him. I positioned myself directly in front of the main walkway as Linkin Park's "One Step Closer" began to play. The boy looked at me, and I gave him the signal, before positioning my camera.
Julia, with Nikki close behind, strode down the aisle, and the boy held his new sign out as far as he could. Julia saw the sign, and I took the picture. Looking at the photo a few days later, Julia looked like she was about to break character. The look on her face said everything. It was as if she was thinking "I'm going to get that little bastard!"
As she got into the ring, I found it hard to contain my laughter, especially as the boy and his friends began a "we want chicken" chant. Julia grabbed the microphone from Michael Mann, and effortlessly slipped into Sweet Saraya mode. Badmouthing the crowd, as only the Sweet Saraya can, she ended by saying something that I will remember until my dying day; "...and all of you lot, and especially Julian Radbourne, can kiss my arse!" Yes! I had done it!
After the show ended, and the arena was cleared of the ring and everything else, I approached Julia. I could barely contain my smile.
"Did you get my message?", I asked.
She gave me that smile again before answering; "Julian, you are so dead!"
Although I had had one success, I was determined to continue. Just six days later, WAW, in conjunction with DAM Promotions, the company formed by wrestling brothers Mike and Dave Waters, were putting on the first ever wrestling show held in Sheringham, at the local high school.
The crowd, starved of wrestling action, were looking for things to shout at the heels. As Bruce, in his Bash character, was due to wrestle, I turned to the group of young fans behind me.
"When the next wrestler comes out, start shouting 'girls wear make-up'."
Sure enough, they did as they were asked. Poor Bruce never knew what hit him. At first, he just couldn't understand why people he had never seen before, from a town he had never wrestled in before, had found out about this popular chant. Then he saw me, and everything became clear.
I came to realise that these kids were like a sponge. They would literally shout anything I would tell them, and with a certain woman due to wrestle in the next match, I saw the opportunity.
"When Saraya comes out, start shouting, as loud as possible, 'we want chicken'."
"Why?"
"Because she loves chicken!"
Little did I know that at that time, her daughter, Saraya, egged on by my brother Paul, who was attending his first ever wrestling show, were doing exactly the same thing on the other side of the ring.
So, as One Step Closer began to play, and Julia stepped through the door into the hall, it began. Around two hundred people began to scream. "We want chicken! We want chicken!" Julia got into the ring, and the chant got even louder. Julia bent down, and looked me straight in the eye. "You are so dead!" I responded to the threat with a wink and a smile. My unholy army had carried my wishes. Although if truth be known, that crowd was so receptive, so open to suggestion, that if Osama Bin Laden had been wrestling there that night, I could have had the fans cheering him like he was the biggest baby-face in wrestling history.
After the show ended, Julia again gave me that smile. She was plotting something.
Two days later, at the Watton Sports Centre, and Julia would be teaming with Ricky against Angel and the Zebra Kid in an inter-gender tag-team match. The crowd, to be honest, was very disappointing, but the small group to the left of me at ringside, like their counterparts in Sheringham, seemed open to suggestion.
As the night progressed, I fed them several lines. "Girls wear make-up", "U.K. Shitbulls" and "Bulk fears Slimfast" seemed to be favourites. Then came the final match. Julia and Ricky came to the ring first, and as they entered the squared circle, it began. Ricky took the microphone, and as the usual Stone Cold "WHAT?" chants began, so did the "we want chicken" chants.
As I covered my mouth to conceal my laughter, Julia stared at me, and again mouthed the words "you are so dead". Ricky, always a good improviser as far as microphone work goes, sent Julia to my position at ringside, as the what and chicken chants continued.
"Everytime you shout WHAT, Saraya will slap him in the head!"
With big smiles on their faces, my Watton cheer leading brigade chanted what after what after what, and with each chant, Julia smacked me in the head. I couldn't see her face, but I was pretty sure that she had a huge smile on it. And I swear to god, that bloody woman hits harder than her old man!
The match started, and the chicken chant continued, along with the other line young Saraya and I had fed them; "Rowdy Rick sucks dick!".
The show ended, and I found myself talking to two fans as they waited outside the dressing room, wanting some autographs.
"So why were they chanting we want chicken?"
"Because it's her favourite food!"
I was a little surprised. "How did you know that?"
"Because I saw it on her website!"
This pleased me no end. It made me realise that people other than those connected to WAW saw her website.
A few moments later, I saw Julia, again with that smile on her face. I asked her if any of that had been planned. Julia shook her head. "None of that was, mate!"
Because of the sort of person Julia is, she doesn't take this little game of ours seriously. I view this in the sort of way Mick Foley views Al Snow. Al is Mick's proverbial punching bag, and in a twisted, but kind, sort of way, I view Julia like this. These little insults are really born out of affection, and I would be honoured if, in some way, Julia insulted me like this, unless it involved disrobing, or being doused with some sticky or wet substance.
But then again, I know how to stay on Julia's good side. After all, she once told me she'd do anything for chicken!
You see, my job is promote WAW in any way I can, mainly on the Internet. Very often, people tell me that I am doing my job very well. But deep down, I often think of myself as having a second, unofficial job within the company - to torment a few of the wrestlers as well. Quite often, those tormented are the trainees, the gullible young kids who come into the wrestling world with high hopes, only to have their shorts pulled down in front of a room full of people.
But a few months ago, my main target was none other than the Sweet Saraya herself.
This innocent little game between us started one day in spring, 2002. I can't remember the exact day, but frankly, that isn't important.
One day, Ricky, Julia and myself were seated in the WAW office in Norwich. While Ricky and I were discussing WAW and website business, Julia stood alone near the heater, trying to find the one iota of warmth that emanated from the device.
At first, she was very quiet. She didn't say much as she seemed to play with her mobile phone. Then, she began to rub her stomach. It then started. The complaints. The first lady of British wrestling was hungry, and there was only one thing that would satisfy her hunger - chicken.
The small complaints began to gradually get bigger and bigger, until it got to the point where Ricky turned to her and said; "Will you stop your bloody moaning woman? You really do craze me sometimes!"
As I left the office, I really didn't think too much about this, but on the train back to Cromer that night, as I began to doze off, an idea hit me. Later that night, Julia would go onto the WAW website, and see the little surprise I had cooked up for her!
A few days later, I arrived at the Connaught Hall in Attleborough, in preparation for a show. As soon as I entered the hall, Julia gave me that knowing look. She had seen what I had done. On the first page of the website, I had put a picture of her I had taken in Fakenham about a month earlier, one of her blowing me a kiss. And underneath, I had placed the words; "I WANT SOME CHICKEN!"
With some small amount of trepidation, I approached Julia, and asked her if she had seen the website lately. With that mischievous grin of hers, she placed her arm around my shoulders, and whispered into my ear; "Beware! Because when you least expect it, I will strike!"
"I'd better give you this now as a peace offering then!", I replied, handing her a carrier bag. Opening the bag, Julia smiled at me, before questioning my parentage.
"Rick!", she yelled. "You'll never guess what he's done! He's brought me some fucking chicken!"
The show started a couple of hours later, but throughout the night, the WAW crew kept asking me, what's this whole chicken thing about? I promised to tell them all, eventually.
Our little private joke continued over the next few weeks. Because of work commitments, I was unable to travel to the Clacton show on April 18th. My reporter's chair was temporarily taken by trainee wrestler Matt Jones.
Before, it had become something of a tradition for Ricky to slap the Internet reporter on the head on the way to the ring. Not wanting Matt to miss out on this, I telephoned Julia on her mobile, with a special request. I wanted Matt to enjoy the same privileges as me, but I wanted to give my young friend a little more. So I offered Julia a bounty, of sorts - three cooked chickens if she would smack Matt upside the head on the way to the ring. Julia dutifully obliged that night, as did several others.
Two days later, as I arrived to observe the latest training camp in Hingham. I gave Julia her payment, and thanked her for services rendered. But deep down, I knew that I had to make this chicken/Saraya thing a sort of cult thing. After all, if Mick Foley could turn a grubby white sock into a cult item, why couldn't I do the same thing with some poultry?
The following day, one day after Julia had been crowned world champion, she teamed with her student, the Katty Katrina, against Angel and Kharisma in Hingham. I put the first stage of my plan into operation. During her match, several of the wrestlers and trainees were seated in the back row. I moved away from my usual ringside seat, and sat near Bruce, Danny and Matt, who had just engaged in a handicap match with each other about an hour earlier. I planted the seed, and Bruce was the first one to chant. In a deep, booming voice, "We Want Chicken" began to ring around the small hall. Several of the trainees followed suit, but sadly, none of the crowd seemed to follow suit.
Julia heard the chant, stared over at Bruce's section of the crowd, and quickly turned her attention back to the match. To be honest, I was a little disappointed that none of the paying customers seemed to take up the chant. But then again, the crowd was a little small that night.
I was determined to do this thing, but didn't get another opportunity until May 11th. WAW wrestler Steve Quintain was holding one of his regular charity shows in his hometown of Lowestoft, and that night, Julia would be teaming with Nikki Best against Angel and Kharisma.
In the small amount of time before that match, and just after Phil Powers and Paul Tyrell had put on a hell of a match, I noticed a young boy at ringside with one of those white board things, and a huge black marker pen. I quickly ran around to his side of the ring, and gave him some instructions.
"Write Saraya Wants Chicken on your board, and when she comes out, hold it out, right in front of her face!"
The boy, although puzzled, did as I asked him. I positioned myself directly in front of the main walkway as Linkin Park's "One Step Closer" began to play. The boy looked at me, and I gave him the signal, before positioning my camera.
Julia, with Nikki close behind, strode down the aisle, and the boy held his new sign out as far as he could. Julia saw the sign, and I took the picture. Looking at the photo a few days later, Julia looked like she was about to break character. The look on her face said everything. It was as if she was thinking "I'm going to get that little bastard!"
As she got into the ring, I found it hard to contain my laughter, especially as the boy and his friends began a "we want chicken" chant. Julia grabbed the microphone from Michael Mann, and effortlessly slipped into Sweet Saraya mode. Badmouthing the crowd, as only the Sweet Saraya can, she ended by saying something that I will remember until my dying day; "...and all of you lot, and especially Julian Radbourne, can kiss my arse!" Yes! I had done it!
After the show ended, and the arena was cleared of the ring and everything else, I approached Julia. I could barely contain my smile.
"Did you get my message?", I asked.
She gave me that smile again before answering; "Julian, you are so dead!"
Although I had had one success, I was determined to continue. Just six days later, WAW, in conjunction with DAM Promotions, the company formed by wrestling brothers Mike and Dave Waters, were putting on the first ever wrestling show held in Sheringham, at the local high school.
The crowd, starved of wrestling action, were looking for things to shout at the heels. As Bruce, in his Bash character, was due to wrestle, I turned to the group of young fans behind me.
"When the next wrestler comes out, start shouting 'girls wear make-up'."
Sure enough, they did as they were asked. Poor Bruce never knew what hit him. At first, he just couldn't understand why people he had never seen before, from a town he had never wrestled in before, had found out about this popular chant. Then he saw me, and everything became clear.
I came to realise that these kids were like a sponge. They would literally shout anything I would tell them, and with a certain woman due to wrestle in the next match, I saw the opportunity.
"When Saraya comes out, start shouting, as loud as possible, 'we want chicken'."
"Why?"
"Because she loves chicken!"
Little did I know that at that time, her daughter, Saraya, egged on by my brother Paul, who was attending his first ever wrestling show, were doing exactly the same thing on the other side of the ring.
So, as One Step Closer began to play, and Julia stepped through the door into the hall, it began. Around two hundred people began to scream. "We want chicken! We want chicken!" Julia got into the ring, and the chant got even louder. Julia bent down, and looked me straight in the eye. "You are so dead!" I responded to the threat with a wink and a smile. My unholy army had carried my wishes. Although if truth be known, that crowd was so receptive, so open to suggestion, that if Osama Bin Laden had been wrestling there that night, I could have had the fans cheering him like he was the biggest baby-face in wrestling history.
After the show ended, Julia again gave me that smile. She was plotting something.
Two days later, at the Watton Sports Centre, and Julia would be teaming with Ricky against Angel and the Zebra Kid in an inter-gender tag-team match. The crowd, to be honest, was very disappointing, but the small group to the left of me at ringside, like their counterparts in Sheringham, seemed open to suggestion.
As the night progressed, I fed them several lines. "Girls wear make-up", "U.K. Shitbulls" and "Bulk fears Slimfast" seemed to be favourites. Then came the final match. Julia and Ricky came to the ring first, and as they entered the squared circle, it began. Ricky took the microphone, and as the usual Stone Cold "WHAT?" chants began, so did the "we want chicken" chants.
As I covered my mouth to conceal my laughter, Julia stared at me, and again mouthed the words "you are so dead". Ricky, always a good improviser as far as microphone work goes, sent Julia to my position at ringside, as the what and chicken chants continued.
"Everytime you shout WHAT, Saraya will slap him in the head!"
With big smiles on their faces, my Watton cheer leading brigade chanted what after what after what, and with each chant, Julia smacked me in the head. I couldn't see her face, but I was pretty sure that she had a huge smile on it. And I swear to god, that bloody woman hits harder than her old man!
The match started, and the chicken chant continued, along with the other line young Saraya and I had fed them; "Rowdy Rick sucks dick!".
The show ended, and I found myself talking to two fans as they waited outside the dressing room, wanting some autographs.
"So why were they chanting we want chicken?"
"Because it's her favourite food!"
I was a little surprised. "How did you know that?"
"Because I saw it on her website!"
This pleased me no end. It made me realise that people other than those connected to WAW saw her website.
A few moments later, I saw Julia, again with that smile on her face. I asked her if any of that had been planned. Julia shook her head. "None of that was, mate!"
Because of the sort of person Julia is, she doesn't take this little game of ours seriously. I view this in the sort of way Mick Foley views Al Snow. Al is Mick's proverbial punching bag, and in a twisted, but kind, sort of way, I view Julia like this. These little insults are really born out of affection, and I would be honoured if, in some way, Julia insulted me like this, unless it involved disrobing, or being doused with some sticky or wet substance.
But then again, I know how to stay on Julia's good side. After all, she once told me she'd do anything for chicken!
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