THE Ghoul - in Darlington pronounced as in "fool" and in Hartlepool rhyming with "foul" - was reckoned the Masked Monster of the Mat.

"The most sensational wrestler of all time," proclaimed the post-war posters, not least (presumably) because of his fearsome guillotine garrotte - or rabbit punch, as in these parts it is known.

We'd written of old Ghouly in 1995, recalling the bout with Ernest Baldwin at the Farrer Street stadium in Middlesbrough when - having been left for dead by the guillotine garrotte - Baldwin was miraculously reinvigorated by the same blow. It was a classic example of what maks yer bad'll mak yer better.

That piece also stirred memories of how Hartlepool's tricoteuses would sit at ringside in the Engineers' Club whilst the guillotine was lowered and then - too late - throw balls of knitting wool at the egregious executioner.

Familiar legend had it that the Ghoul remained masked because he'd suffered horrific burns as a child, though the cognoscenti knew that he was really a good looking chap called John Bates from Manchester and that you couldn't hope to meet a nicer feller.

We again mention the Ghoul on the bill because of a remarkable doorstep delivery from Ian Luck in Gainford. Browsing at a fire station sale in Darlington - in aid of the New York disaster fund - he came upon a vast cornucopia of wrestling magazines, programmes and photographs from around 1950, and suggests we give them to a good home.

Maybe we will, but should any freestyle philanthropist care to make an offer - there must be 100 Mat magazines alone - the money will also go to the appeal.

The programmes are all from St James's Hall in Newcastle - Abdul the Turk, Legs Langevin, Kwango (who may have had it easy), lugubrious Les Kellett and even Tiger Woods, who played the saxophone when not putting the wind up elsewhere and might still have been a couple of bob behind his later namesake.

Mighty Ted Beresford, alas, had been obliged to spend several months hors d'combat after being bitten by a fish.

There was Hassan Ali Bey, reckoned the world's strongest man and photographed doing his Tommy Cooper impression, Ali Baba (sans thieves), the masked Bert Royal ("causes a certain amount of consternation") and Gypsy Benito, who may or may not have got lucky.

They were joined on the mat, if not the carpet, by North-East wrestlers like Norman Walsh, a former river policeman from Middlesbrough; Ron Johnson, an Easington council foreman who opened an off-licence in Hartlepool, and Alf Rawlings from Stockton, who appeared to have a particular thing about the Ghoul.

The masked man, a programme noted, had offered not to use the guillotine garrotte if Rawlings would kindly refrain from his death lock.

Dave Armstrong from Northumberland, the first man to wrestle in contact lenses, was known as the Choppington Chicken - not, probably, for reasons of cowardice - and should not have been confused with Larry "Whiskers" Laycock, an ex-Marine who kept a chicken farm in Darlington.

All right then, whatever happened to Larry "Whiskers" Laycock?

It's Mat magazine which offers the greatest ringside entertainment, however, both in its almost hysterical defence of the "sport" - "leading journalists use wrestling as a whipping boy on every possible occasion" - and in the unexpected nature of some of the features.

They included "Famous frogmen of yesterday", "Do carrots wrestle?", "The curse of indigestion" and "Masturbation: can it be cured?"

"The answer," concluded Mat magazine prudently, "is yes and no."

It cost a shilling, rose to 1/6d, incorporated Rugby League Record "and other sports" and fought to the end - two falls, two submissions or a knock-out - to legitimise wrestling's iffy image.

"There isn't much you can say to those human parrots who go around exclaiming 'It's a fake', for we feel that they are under a psychological handicap that places them beyond means of reasonable argument."

It died, probably, when ITV pulled the Saturday afternoon plug. As the Guillotine Garrotter might ultimately have observed, it was the cruelest cut of all.

STILL with the dangerous sports club, the World Conker Championship again takes place at the Royal in Trimdon Colliery on Sunday. It is almost an old chestnut by now; a competition with strings attached.

"It began as just a bit daft carry on, but now it's deadly serious. You can't move around here for conkers and on Sunday it'll be busier than New Year's Eve," says Susan Sanderson, the landlady.

This year there'll even be a new trophy. "It was just a bit of skirting board with a conker stuck to it," says Susan. "We've got a shield but had to have it specially made. For some reason, none of the sports seemed to do conker trophies."

The Prime Minister, who lives a few hundred yards away, is unlikely to join the conkering band, however. He has enough global conflicts to worry about already.

It began in 1998, reached national status when word reached Wheatley Hill and was declared the world championships when someone inadvertently stumbled by from Peterlee, though he'd only come in for 20 Woodbines.

The rules are prominently displayed - no tangled strings, no old boilers, no superglue, no ringers and (it's whispered) not much notice, either.

There's also a suggestion that playing whilst sober may be declared ungentlemanly conduct - fresh legs, and all that - whilst the disciplinary committee waits to administer raps over the knuckles.

Gavin Mercer, from Trimdon Village, has won for the last three years without so much as climbing a conker tree. "He gets them off other people," says Susan. "There can't be anything in the rules about that."

The competition starts at 1 30pm, will probably end about five o'clock. After that, they'll be ready for a drink.

SOME of us old pro's spend ages honing the vital first paragraph. The start of Alan Smith's match report in the Darlington Greyhounds FC programme says it all much better: "Does anybody want to see my holiday pictures? They would be slightly more interesting than this account of a very poor performance." Darlington Greyhounds 0 Shuttle and Loom 4.

MANY splendoured beneath the Cathedral, the Racecourse in Durham has narrowly lost the competition to find England's most scenic cricket ground.

The winner, announced today by Wisden Monthly, is Keswick - said to "reflect the continuity and rural tradition of the English game" and to have once been so rural that the bucket and shovel brigade had to shift the sheep muck before wickets could be pitched.

The Racecourse made the frame, final six. Backtrack readers also suggested Reeth, Rievaulx, Raby, Bamburgh and Guisborough.

And if you're still looking for the most attractively situated football grounds, says a reader whose note we have wretchedly mislaid, Richmond Town remains simply unbeatable.

DAVE Bassett, parachuted on Wednesday into Leicester City, sounds as Cockney as jellied eels. The book says he was born at Hendon, Middlesex, in September 1944; yesterday's Telegraph confirms the date but reckons the birth place was Bishop Auckland. Surely not?

THE search for Shildon Football Club's class acts of 1961 - the last time the team reached the FA Cup first round - is proving pretty successful.

When existing avenues have been explored, only George Sinclair, Bobby Armstrong and Mick Scalley - Leeds lad - are likely to be unaccounted.

They've even traced Roly Giles, forced to withdraw after failing a fitness test on the morning of the match at Oldham.

"The trainer opened his bag, pulled out a bottle of rum and applied it forcefully to my knee," recalled Roly, who'd been signed from Whitburn. For some reason it appeared not to be the spirit.

George Sinclair, then a South Shields policeman, scored the opening goal in the 5-2 defeat. They hope to mark the anniversary on Sunday, November 4 with a top of the table match with Penrith and a reunion. Shildon secretary Mike Armitage is on 01325 316322.

JOHN Dawson, ground hopper extraordinary, has had the best possible present on his 60th birthday. He qualifies for a senior citizen's railcard.

"The amount of miles I do it makes a huge difference," says the Hartlepool postman, en route to Lowestoft v Ely on Tuesday and the following evening to their Suffolk neighbours Leiston, against Needham Market.

His trusty motor bike awaited back at the station. "I think I'm going to be seeing a lot less of it," said John. The old lad has watched 80 games this season.

THE intriguing little matter of the English record set up at last weekend's Japan v Nigeria international at Southampton - up, as Tuesday's column noted, from 261 to 352. It was the number of press box passes issued - the Japanese media is getting excited.

Willie Fyvie, Sunderland lad, is seeking the identity of the three footballers - all at some time in their careers with Sunderland - who still hold the record for most goals in a season with clubs now in the Scottish Premier League.

The column plans a few days north of the border, too. Back on October 23.

Published: Friday, October 12, 2001