Peter Thornley a.k.a. Kendo Nagasaki wrote: “I was saddened to hear of the passing of Andy Robin – he was a very genuine man, capable and imaginative, and one of the true characters of British wrestling’s ‘Golden Years’. One of my most memorable recollections of Andy was Kendo’s match with him where Gorgeous George made his debut in wrestling and subsequently wrote about it: ‘My debut in the wrestling world as Kendo Nagasaki’s Manager was to be at Dumfries in November 1971. I hadn’t a clue what I was letting myself in for, and bearing in mind that I – like millions of others – had previously watched it on T.V. (and I’d been to a few live shows with Peter), I must, in retrospect, have been completely off my rocker. I could be maimed for life, or even worse, and yet there I was, serenely trotting two hundred odd miles in order to get my block knocked off. Peter had years of training behind him, but I, what did I have? Nothing but four years of complete idleness. As luck would have it the opponent of the night was one Andy Robin, Scottish Heavyweight Champion, a title bestowed upon him mainly on the grounds that he was such a wild-man and that there were very few other heavyweights around foolish enough to fight him. Actually, Andy is quite a nice guy, and has taken to living with a bear called Hercules, who has a thing about Kleenex. However, one can gauge the caution that an invitation to wrestle with him should engender, from the following tale. From time to time, Andy would promote his own wrestling show, with himself naturally as the top of the bill. As an increasing number of wrestlers were decidedly dubious about getting into the ring with such an unpredictable tartan terror, he occasionally added Hercules the Bear to the bill. On the night in question Andy had actually succeeded in persuading Klondyke Jake, a rough and tough fighter from the Midlands, to join battle with him, and Andy said to him, ‘Jake, I’ll tell you what, you fight the bloody bear, an’ there’ll be another tenner in fur ye.’ Jake turned round contemptuously and replied ‘F*** off, I’ll do the bear for the same f***ing money, it’s you I’ll need the extra tenner to fight!’ That was what I was walking blithely into on my debut. The bout itself was not particularly remarkable, and I thought my opening speech went down quite well, considering only a couple of beer cans bounced off my glasses – yes – unbelievably, I had omitted to remove them. In the second round Kendo got a fall, and I quietly encouraged the timekeeper to start the third round promptly, by looking at my watch and shaking my head. Now, if you’ve never actually ‘felt’ a thousand hostile Scotsmen standing simultaneously and moving as-one in your direction, it’s something that defies description. The next thing I knew was that I was trying to get into the relative safety of the ring, aided and abetted by both Kendo and Andy, whilst those same thousand Scotsmen were trying to pull me out! After one or two of them received ‘accidental’ kicks in the head from both [Andy and Kendo], the crowd suddenly let go of me, and I fairly catapulted into the ring with the velocity of a bullet. I was bereft of great chunks of clothing, and missing one shoe. It says something for Peter’s careful upbringing that when I told him this – in the ring – he just replied ‘Well, go out there and bloody get it!’ Somehow we managed to get through the rest of the bout, though truthfully I remember very little of it...’ (Edited, from ‘Kendo Nagasaki and the Man Behind the Mask’, an autobiography by Peter Thornley.) Rest in Peace, Andy – we shall not see your like again.” Peter.