Middle Child company member and panto dame, Marc Graham, writes about one of the most popular forms of storytelling and theatre: wrestling.

“A showman par excellence,” exclaims The Promoter as the outsider makes his entrance. Music blares, his costume glitters in the lights, women scream. He’s cocky, he’s arrogant, he thinks he’s sexy.

“The ladies love him, no doubt about that,” calls The Promoter as the performer lets two screeching teenage fans mob him. A 13 year old boy thrusts a plastic action figure into the face of this Heartbreaker, who takes it from the boy and drops it into his pants. The girls scream, the boy is disgusted, our Heartbreaker throws it back to the boy, and parts the two teenage girls with a kiss before entering Centre Stage. There’s a mixed reaction from the 11,000 strong audience. Fireworks erupt as he hits his signature pose. A few boos rain down. This isn’t his home turf; this is unfamiliar territory and it isn’t going to be his night.

Our Villain is established.

A brief silence befalls the crowd that September night in 1997.

Rule Britannia blasts through the PA. 11,000 people roar in unison. A man draped in a Union Jack makes his way down the Vom and he’s not alone. He’s accompanied by a woman, but she’s not a valet. She’s his sister, who, we are quickly informed, has been battling cancer her whole life. Tonight is dedicated to her. She joins her whole family, sitting front and centre. This man is big, powerful, a juggernaut. He wears European Gold around his waist and he is British, through and through.

We have Our Hero.

The show begins. Our Villain is outmatched for power in every early exchange. Our Hero grows in confidence and the sold out crowd are fully behind him, roaring at every moment that goes his way. The crowd begins to believe, even though some may have noticed Our Hero sporting a knee brace, but it is no cause for concern, everything is going to plan. Our Hero lifts his opponent over his head in a Gorilla Press, carries him to the edge of the ring and feigns as if to throw him stage right, then stage left. The Official seems worried and stops it happening, three times, before Our Hero unceremoniously dumps Our Villain on to the springed boards behind him, the safer option no less humiliating for Our Villain.

Our Hero is in full control. Occasionally he checks his knee, but he is firing on all cylinders. Our Villain is in real trouble here and it won’t be long before we’re all safely tucked up in our beds with beautiful memories of what we collectively witnessed in our own back garden.

“The advantage is with the Hero. He’s got the strength, he’s got the stamina, he’s got the advantage of all these home-town fans, he’s got his family here, including his sister, who he’s dedicated this match to, he cannot lose this,” The Promotor reminds the millions of subjects watching around the globe, but the crowd in this National Mecca are unable to hear.

A small fear creeps in as Our Villain gets back into this contest. But we needn’t have worried, as Our Hero hikes Our Villain into the air, pauses for 10 seconds allowing blood to rush to his head before bringing him down in freefall. A vintage move. Until…

The curtain flutters, a light is shone upon it. A suited stranger to these proceedings enters the fray, a player who is certainly not welcome here. This mysterious tall, dark and somewhat ravishing man quickly distracts the Official, trippingly on the apron. Our Hero stumbles into an unlit area of the stage and his face meets an exposed steel pillar courtesy of the Ravishing One, right in front of his family. The atmosphere darkens. Two boys from the crowd reach through the Fourth Wall to assure Our Hero he’s still loved. Our Hero is in trouble here, but despite the deck being stacked against him, he’s still putting up a big fight; he’s battling well, the home crowd spurring him on. There’s light at the end of this tunnel yet.