Clay's Blog

Subject: Clay's Blog Sun Aug 18, 2013 5:24 pm

Quote :: Yesterday on social media - @Clay_Krueger, I promised to talk about my days as an international playboy from the 1980’s. As a man of my word, the following is the first of what I imagine will be a weekly weekend feature here at Pro Wrestling Rebellion.

The 80’s was an amazing time in the life of Clay Krueger, then known by my real name of Hal Moore (Jr.). I was in the United Kingdom, in the east end of London, learning how to wrestle with Dave Taylor and Fit Finlay. Living the wrestling dream and chasing women. I was what became known later in the decade as an international lover and player. I’ve made love to women from as far a field as Australia to Zambia. I even got a girl to wank me off in Whitby… before you mock that be fair, it was only a day trip. I was there for a mater of hours, there was no time to weave the full magic.

It wasn’t easy to get sex in the 80’s. Not like now, Back in the day you had to really work hard for it. Women didn’t want to part up too quickly. Had to put the hard hat on and go to work. If you’d met a girl on the Friday night at a disco, you’d take her out on Saturday night. Splash of Paco Rabanne, get your jeans out the cleaners with a nice crease down the side.

You took her out for the evening, treated her. Took her out for a steak Diane. A few chinzano’s. The biaco’s. And if she wanted a prawn cocktail… she got a prawn cocktail. Women went mental for the prawn cocktail in the 80’s! You’d see her little face light up something special. It was a delicacy back in those days. Exotic, even. You’ve sat her down and you’ve presented her with prawns. Lettuce. Half a tomato. In a wine glass. Drizzled with the dressing from a THOUSAND islands. Not salad cream tonight princess. Tonight, you’re special. You are going to get a dressing that has been gathered from a THOUSAND islands. Brought to this steak house in Bethnal Green… just for you.

You want the vagina. This hasn’t changed. Men have chased the vagina for centuries since time began. As we know, the vagina has changed. It was still a big hairy beast back in the 1980’s. A big hairy, militant, Marxist, feminist vagina. It was angry, the vagina of the 80’s. Had a terrible attitude. The knickers weren’t small and it was still busting out of the sides. Big angry vagina. Started rolling these Marxist knickers down and it would come out growling. But you want the vagina.

So I got myself a place. Kitted it out for love. Bedsit. Quality bedsit, not council. I went and got all the latest gear. Spent all of my earnings up to that point, £700 on kitting it out. I take her back there, sit her down on the futon - she’s half in bed already. Up there for thinking…

Go over to my stereo stacker system, an Aiwa with a built in graphic equaliser… which did nothing, but never mind. I slip into the cassette deck and select ‘Now That’s What I Call Music’… Volume 2. Now I know that Luther Vandross is coming on any minute and when Luther comes on, I’m into the vagina. This frees up the time for me to head over to my kitchen-ette area. Go behind my little bit of curtain. I change into the worldwide known and accepted uniform of the international lover and player, which we know and respect as the silk blank kimono.

Come back out into the main area, having left my jeans on because I’m not a monster. I then turn around in theatrical style to reveal the dragon and hold that pose. Spin back around producing a nice chilled bottle of blue nun and it’s off to the races.

My international player days are over now but I still have some tall tales to tell.

Clay ‘Chainsaw’ Krueger