At the FT, Toby Moore attractively reviews two appealing-sounding books on physical culture, Marcus Trower's The Last Wrestlers and Wayne McLennan's Tent Boxing. Go and take a look, here's how it starts out and there's some bizarre stuff about wrestling and semen later on too:
My grandmother developed a passion for wrestling late in life, an odd counterpoint to a world where even the library books came by post from Harrods. Every Saturday she settled delicately in front of the television with her small, spoilt lap dog, to watch portly men with names such as Giant Haystacks preen in leotards and grapple in violent intimacy. She winced and oohed as bodies slammed on to the floor. But mainly she laughed, because the fights were a rare combination of absurdity and ferocity, even to a fan in her eighties.