Lucimius d’La Buvette: Dimaaa! Dimaaa! Dima Whooo? Dim – (*gasp*) Dima falls to the ground, knees crumbling under the weight of A. Rochal’a lethal right hand. Since when does Ukraine buckle? They don’t. Dima returns with an almighty uppercut, connecting beautifully with Rochal’s pointy chin, as his tooth flies into the crowd of chanting women. [dramatisation]
Now this is an event worth going to. Not only do you see your friends getting mullered, but also, at times, do some mullering yourself. Which is more entertaining is a matter of personal choice. But where else would you witness your fellow art history tutorial classmate fighting Dundee strippers? Fight Club has scoured the depths of Fife, and the social scene of the toon has reached new heights. Mr Harry Bremner, founder, I salute you.
Natasha Franks: Similar to the fashion shows, the night’s centrepiece was our fellow students. Yet this atmosphere tapped into a more competitive part of our spectator brains: Guests arrived holding signs in support of their favoured fighter, with each man and woman’s honour and self-respect riding on the battle’s outcome. It was evident, based on the quality of the action, that every individual had trained extensively for this night. Gamblers were given a run for their money, with every battle appearing evenly matched in both talent and ambition.
d’la B.: Fashion Show, I hear you say? Rubbish. For once, the audience actually paid attention to the show. Although there was a fair amount of fashionable dress, the fighters’ coach, with his Turkish-imported ray bans and his three-piece tweed suit, won the centrepiece on that front. The night’s MCs, Mr Bremner and J Murray, also caught our attention with their sausage-looking black ties. Their fighter introductions were also rather amusing – although unfortunately couldn’t quite make out what they were always saying, one definitely stood out: “He won’t speak to you unless you have a signet ring on your pinky”. Touché. Mine has just been ordered, fresh from the local Fife factory (they seem very prosperous with the St Andrews clientele) so I’m treading safe waters.
Natasha: Aided by top notch bar service, the audience grew more rambunctious as the night wore on. By the time the final fight had been fought, guests were prepared to embrace the afterparty – headlined by old favourite DJ Ashton Squires.
d’la B.: [interrupting] Asquires describes Throwback as the untreated STD, but may I say, it takes one to know one.
Natasha: Anyway. The afterparty begun on a spirted note, with fighters descending into the crowd to celebrate their wins or consolidate their losses. Aided by the tunes of the aforementioned Asquires, guests created a dancefloor around the now-empty ring. Within the next hour or so, however, the room largely emptied out. Exhausted fighters had made their way home, and their entourages followed. The night’s crown jewel had been the battle royale; in this, Fight Club excelled. The afterparty was a comedown – though guests who stayed behind remained in high spirits.
Overall, Fight Club provided a welcome respite from the usual Kinkell tomfoolery. Bremner and the team, alongside headlining sponsor Local Student Storage, ought to feel proud for having pulled off the tournament. Hopeful candidates for Fight Club 2019 are recommended to start hitting the gym now.