Across The Muddy Fields Of England

[Ian Lord]

1880 - Prizefighting is a crime. However, it thrives across the length and breadth of England, from savage back-room arena's to the open air farmers fields in the countryside. Enjoyed by both the gentry and roughians, boxing is here to stay, and it was this that inspired Lord Ian Lord to codify the rules. Biting, gouging and wrestling is no longer allowed, and rounds have been introduced, in an effort to make boxing 'respectable'. The English Prizefighting Society [EPS] has been formed, with English fighters urged to register. Boxing as English society has never known, is about to begin.....

[Ian Lord]

Now's your chance to register guys. If you'd like to participate in the English Prizefighting Society, then leave your fighters name [why not use your own name], and hometown [remember it's got to be an English city/town/village]. I'll be adding other nationalities as I progress. Will accept Scottish, Welsh and Irish as well. You can also add a bio. Will only be running one weight [heavyweight]. I'll be using fighters that were around at the time [plus some that had already retired], plus some randomly generated fighters. Just aim to have a bit of fun with it all. Hope to see you in the EPS.

[Ian Lord]

Just realised I've posted in the wrong section
Be really grateful if one of the moderators could move it to 'Inside The Ropes.'

[bob_bask]

Fighter name: The Reverend G H West

Hometown: Roughton, Lincolnshire

Reverend Gabriel Henry West is vicar of the parish church of St Margaret.

Despite the sport's "is it, isn't it" legal position, the Reverend is a keen participator.

“Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle."

[Lee]

Fighter Name: Cyril "The Butcher" Crooks (Named after my Uncle)
Hometown: Chilton, County Durham


A purveyor of fine cuts of beef to the local populace, "The Butcher" is a brawling southpaw, who sports a paralyzing right hook and an appetite for wenches and mead.

[JOHNNYGUAPO]

Fighter Name: Joey "Skimps" Davis.
Hometown: Liverpool, England.

A vicious body puncher. Besides fighting, takes action on all sports and loan sharks for his main income. Collects his own debts from the deadbeats.

[Ian Lord]

Thanks guys. Sorry for the delay. Been away from the game for awhile. Going to get this up and running. Great bio's.

[Ian Lord]

Carlisle Journal

New Years Day, 1880.

A field in England. A field in Carlisle to be precise. It was a cold, wintry day, shrouded in mist. The two combatants squared of under what was the first prizefight under the new rules set up under the English Prizefighting Society, with rounds, the wearing of mufflers and a points system introduced. The ring remains the same.

On the one side, we had Cyril 'The Butcher' Crooks, an Englishman from Chilton, Durham. Nicknamed 'The Butcher' after his profession back in his hometown, was he also a butcher in the roped circle and able to make the blood flow. We were about to find out.

Squaring of on the opposite side was John 'Kingfisher' Knifton, a salmon farmer from St. Cyrus in Scotland, wearing a kilt,traditional of his fellow countrymen.

The vacant North British title was up for grabs, the belt kindly made and donated by Durham guildsman John J. Johnson, no doubt confident in Crooks winning and bringing it home to Durham with him. It was scheduled for fifteen rounds.

The bell sounded, signalling the start of the bout. Both men circled each other, weighing each other up. Crooks with his shaven skull and muscular frame, although you couldn't help but notice his slight paunch, no doubt from all the mead and women he is rumoured to enjoy. Meanwhile there was not an ounce of fat on Knifton, resplendent in his kilt with flowing red locks and beard.

Finally Crooks moved in and landed the first blow of the contest, and the first blow under ESP rules. It was a solid left to the jaw, although it was the only telling shot of a dreary first round.

Crooks got the better in the second round, with Knifton appearing to struggle to settle into the fight. The third was another wretched round to watch, with both men seemingly content to clinch and wrestle with each other. Referee Ronnie Nelson had his work cut out in this round. The fourth was again close, but with more action. Again, not a lot in it. Crooks was warned for repeated kidney punching. These butcher's like their kidneys.

The remainder of the fight carried on in much the same vein. The rounds were very close and to be honest there wasn't much action in them, except in the ninth and tenth rounds. In the ninth, Crooks wobbled Knifton with one of his paralyzing left hooks. However, before Crooks could capitalise, both men went into a clinch, with Crooks recieving another warning for leaning down onto the back of the Scotsman's neck. His advantage had slipped away.

Then in the tenth, Knifton stunned Crooks with a solid shot to the head. Crooks was staggered, but made it to the bell. Knifton seemed to pull ahead in the last five rounds. The bell sounded at the end of the fifteenth, and it was down to referee Ronnie Nelson to declare a winner. A draw would have been fair. The crowd watched expectantly to see who's arm would be raised. It was Knifton's, by a close eight rounds to six. He was ecstatic. A dejected Crooks congratulated him, before asking for a re-match.

"Ye want this," bellowed a jubilant Knifton, pointing towards his newly won North British title belt, "then ye come tae Scotland, and try to take it. But I'm telling ye now, that will never happen!"

With that, Knifton turned and began the journey back to Scotland with his entourage, as a dejected Crooks stood and watched his victor disappear into the mist....

[Lee]

Rumors are that Mead will soon be eradicated from the training regimen of The Butcher, as it has now become a personal quest to bring down the Scot.

[skybluerob]

John "Last Orders" Stout

A regular at one of the roughest pubs in London, Stout enjoys a good drink, good company and a good fight.

Strengths: Powerful haymaker and ability to take lots of punishment due to many years of drink already damaging his brain cells.

Weaknesses: Beer belly limits mobility and stamina. Beard sometimes gets caught in the ropes.

[CONN CHRIS]

Dandy Dorian MacAllister

Son of a wealthy Scottish land owner who also competes in pedestrian contests.

Exquisitely conditioned and skilled boxer with very limited power. Comes to the ring in lavender silks.

[Ian Lord]

Originally Posted by Lee

Rumors are that Mead will soon be eradicated from the training regimen of The Butcher, as it has now become a personal quest to bring down the Scot.

Sounds like The Butcher means business.

[Ian Lord]

Originally Posted by skybluerob

John "Last Orders" Stout

A regular at one of the roughest pubs in London, Stout enjoys a good drink, good company and a good fight.

Strengths: Powerful haymaker and ability to take lots of punishment due to many years of drink already damaging his brain cells.

Weaknesses: Beer belly limits mobility and stamina. Beard sometimes gets caught in the ropes.

Originally Posted by CONN CHRIS

Dandy Dorian MacAllister

Son of a wealthy Scottish land owner who also competes in pedestrian contests.

Exquisitely conditioned and skilled boxer with very limited power. Comes to the ring in lavender silks.

Thanks guys. Great bio's.

[Ian Lord]

Mersey Echo

Liverpool can be an unforgiving place at the best of times. Tonight, the second of January, it was doubly unforgiving. First of all for middle-aged vagrant George 'Gee Gee' Gerrard, who was found beaten to a pulp in the dockside area. Gerrard, a well known local character around The Dockside, especially the taverns, had recently fell on hard times. Rumour had it that he had gotten in with a bad bunch,and owed money to some dangerous men. The local constabulary believed it was one of these men who had done Gee Gee over, and were now swarming the local area looking for their suspect. Descriptions were vague, although it was believed the attacker may be sporting a fresh cut under his right eye as Gerrard managed to connect with a blow. Even the drunkards in this town can handle themselves.

This now brings me on to my next story of brutality, which took place at The Slaughterhouse Tavern, overlooking the docks. Local heavy, Joey 'Skimps' Davis was making his debut under English Prizefighting Society rules, in a bout scheduled for ten rounds. The air was thick with smoke as he made his way too the ring, with the upstairs room of The Slaughterhouse packed full with villains, roughians and ne'er do wells. Even before the opening bell, 'Skimps' seemed to have a cut below his right eye, and didn't seem to be his usual, aggressive self. In fact he seemed lethergic, and his foe 'Welsh Dragon' Hugh Evans, from the Welsh Borders sensed this, and was onto Skimps from the opening bell.

Evans comfortably took the opener, landing to body and head, and immediately went to work on Skimps's right eye. The bell sounded ending the round, and Evans was again onto his foe at the beginning of the second. At the rounds mid-point, Evans landed a heavy blow to the jaw of his foe. Davis wobbled, and clung on, and lasted to the bell.

The onslaught continued in the third. Davis's right eye split open. Evans took the round, with not a lot of resistance. The crowd were restless.

Davis, probably feeling the crowds contempt, upped his work rate in the fourth. It was a close round, with the Welshman edging it.

Davis's eye was worsening in the fifth, with Evans working on it. Coming up to halfway through the round, the Welsh Dragon shoved Davis into the corner, then ruthlessly went work, landing some sickening blows to the head of Davis, who eventually pitched face first to the ground. The count was a formality.

The onlookers, many of them who had wagered on Davis to win, hurled ale tankards into the ring. Davis made a dash for safety and managed to get out of the tavern intact. The crowd were soon quelled. Meanwhile, Evans collected his winners purse, and headed back to Wales a happy man.