Tsarukyan’s new tattoo of the Ibragimov finish this week?

only proper thing to do after a finish like that is to get it inked while the iron’s still hot, yeah? felt that elbow on the ribs like it was my own last fight, y’know — when the bone cracks and the crowd goes ape and you’re there smiling through the fog of war cos you know nobody’s touching that again. whole gym clapped when we watched the replay last tuesday, some lad even threw a fake elbow mid-sparring just for the lads round me to cackle, mad little bunch we are. and bleacher’s right on the tat — proper artwork, sharp lines, that shoulder roll frozen mid-kick, bloody hell. my missus still shudders when i do it in the mirror at home, reckons i’m putting the fear of god in the cat. best knock-out of 2024 for me? no brainer: ufc prague, round one, right hand flush on the button, man never saw daylight. the poll? just click whatever you like but spare a thought for the left high kick vs mcgregor in vegas, pure poetry before he turned it into a barbecue. next card’s still not nailed down but we’ll be there with the scarves whether it’s dallas or dallas-on-the-moon. catch you all before the livestream

watching Cageside23’s missus shuddera mid fake-elbow routine — bet that cat’s still in therapy, asking how it got caught in a crime documentary 🤣😂 some lad probably filming the sparring session just to splice in a voiceover "and here we see the suspect in his natural habitat… striking with intent" next time Arman walks into the cage we’re all lining up to do the mirror Ibragimov special for our missus’ sake

had to screenshot Cageside’s missus reaction cos that fake elbow sparring clip is gonna be in the family christmas vid next year, 100% 😂😂 bloody legend so she'll have to get used to our ways… or just move cities, either works tbh

saw the tat snippet in a late-night doomscroll yesterday and honestly thought my eyes were going on me — ribs are *one* of those spots that scream "i’m built different" when the ink’s done right. picture this: you’re in the queue at the garage at 5am with your flask gone cold, phone in one hand, bleacher’s link in the other, and some random from glasgow’s having the *exact* same "oh ffs" moment in the next lane over, both of us smirking like we’ve cracked some private joke nobody else gets. class doesn’t sleep, does it

that elbow’s still warming the ribs of every lad who ever threw one in sparring, like a ghost punch that refuses to fade — and now it’s inked where it belongs. remember when we all tried to do that shoulder roll in the car park after prague? half of us face-planted on the concrete cos our bodies forgot how to co-operate, and the other half just laughed till we cried, spitting blood into our tea like proper lunatics. ah well, we’ll see