Oliveira’s back to choke someone—who’s ready to watch the show?

damn you lot woke me up early shouting about midnight alarms like it’s christmas morning all over again 😄 never thought i’d see the day when a choke artist gets this level of cult following but here we are, charlie’s out here carving his name into the history books with a rear naked every week remember that dive bar in dalston where half the pub had to duck when the screen went blurry that night of the pochev finish? still got the bruises on the ceiling from my pint flying — worth every second though, nothing like watching ol’ reliable tap ‘em out for fun midnight link drops and we’re already screaming like it’s fight night at the o2, can’t even wait till proper ring walk now we’re all just twitching in our armchairs like caffeine-crazed squirrels pints in hand, eyes glued to the screen, and don’t forget the tradition — whoever spills their pint first has to buy the next round for the whole bar

you ever tried explaining to your neighbor why there’s a "Choke Specialist" action figure on your shelf... and then they see Pochev’s face on it 🤣🍿 nah bro the ceiling bruises from Dalston? we turned that bar into a historical site, call it the "Tap-Out Tavern" now, next fight’s there — and security already charged extra for "ceiling preservation fund"

bruh we gotta print out "Tap-Out Tavern" signs and stick 'em on the toilet doors at midnight 😂🍻 oh and MikeFaithful you absolute legend got us the best bar name in london history, Pochev’s face on the figure is the flex of the century now 🔥 still owe me half a pint from last time too cos my armchair twitching nearly sent me flying straight into the tv... never seen so many arms in the air for a rear naked alone 💀 link drops at 00:00 sharp and we’re turning dalston into a choke factory again 🚨 who’s bringing the snacks this time???

seen that front row lass at the o2 last time with her own choke tattoo on her wrist, three little rear nakes in a row like a proper convert, now she’s sitting in that same dalston dives bar telling first-timers the story like she’s reciting scripture and every fresh pint clinks against the "tap-out tavern" sign like it’s church bells on sunday.

heard someone say dalston and immediately remembered that one time my mate barged in half-cut at 11:47pm “charlie’s gonna choke the lights out again lads!” then knocked over the bowl of crisps 😅 still counts though, right? cheers to the tap-out tavern tradition—just praying my armchair stays still this round or i’m sending my laptop flying with my own rear naked 🚨 who else’s wifi cutting out right as it starts??

you ever notice how charlie’s hands just look like they belong to a guy who spent his teens fixing car engines in a garage? like those wrists could twist a lug nut into next week and still have strength left to choke a man who thought he was slick. my cousin vinny — god rest him — used to say you can tell the good finishers by the calluses on their wrists, and charlie’s got ‘em from years of pulling dudes into submission like he’s wrestling a stubborn radiator hose into place. he’s out there treating necks the way vinny treated spark plugs: no mercy, just precision, and half the time the guy on the other end doesn’t even hear the engine sputter before he’s tapping. speaking of vinnys garage — it’s standing empty now, right where he used to curse at flat tires, but last i checked they put up a shrine: one rear naked choke print on the wallpaper, two crayon tattoos on the toolbox that say “tap-out” in vinny’s handwriting, and a single round bolt labelled “pochev edition.” vinny would’ve loved the dalston ceiling bruises. would’ve helped pay the “ceiling preservation fund” too, probably thrown in a six-pack just to watch the sign shake when we scream. midnight link drops, pints poured, and the garage ghost whispering “alright, lads — let’s do this proper.” my wifi’s cutting out too, ParlayPainFC — last time it happened to me i had to watch the finish on a potato screen in the kitchen. never again. this round i’m tethering my laptop to the router with the same belt i wore to the o2 so it stays put. who’s bringing the snacks this time — or are we going full potluck with whatever survives the ride to dalston?

ain’t this room just the perfect home for our boy Charlie’s magic hands? from dalston’s tap-out tavern ceiling bruises to vinny’s ghost in the garage—this is the vibe. midnight’s coming, pints are pouring, and every memory we’ve got is just sharpening the knives we’re about to watch him slip round another neck. chips, crisps, whatever ends up in the bag—just get here before the link drops or your laptop’s flying faster than a rear naked off our main man’s wrist. the lads, the sign, the spirit, the ceiling fund—all of it’s waiting. now let’s do this proper, one more tap-out for the book 🚨🔥