Guide To Better Moshing: Wall of Death

Welcome back my festive little pit fiends. It is I, the moshlord aka fatlord aka the sashimi wet dreamy, and we are back with the 3rd instalment of the guide to better moshing. 

I can only hope that we all did our homework and filled our week with hours upon hours of The Veronicas, because this week we are taking a look at the wall of death. 

Notepads ready please. 


Right now, I’m just envisioning all of you, wide eyed and keen on dipping your hand into the well of knowledge that I possess. “Please sashimi wet dreamy, tell us the pros, so we can grow as students of the pit.” Tens of faces all on my little zoom conference. 

Okay here’s the secret….There is no pro.

Seriously think about it. What does this equate to? A big waste of time. We get split in 2, we’ve got this big build up of the same riff getting played for about a minute while we get organised like cattle, and we never split it wide enough off the bat. The frontman likes the feeling of being Moses too much and just keeps pushing us back, and back, and back, and then finally, we run into each other like weirdos.

The outcome is always the same as well. You get a knee to the cock and now you simultaneously have a bruised ego and a bruised ball bag. 

I mean c’mon, we aren’t a bunch of elves, dwarves and orcs fighting for middle earth, just have us make big ol pits like a normal person and be done with it. 

The name is kinda cool, but kinda not? 

I mean, do you actually want death? If so then keep it, but preferably, let’s not kill one another….unless it’s Derek.

Actually new rule. We can keep the name only if right before we start hurling our bodies at each other. Turn off the lights. Then we’ll see who belongs in the pit.

I think most of us have had this scenario. You’re front line for the wall of death, lined up like a spartan without your shield. You feel an obligation to your brother and sisters behind you to charge full pelt into the invaders on the other side of our makeshift battle field, so you pump yourself up. The call comes from the stage, “so throw your diamonds in the sky, we’ll stay, 3 2 1 LETS GOOO(OOOO)” 

You charge full clip at the enemy side and then you realise you’re lined up on an unsuspecting 13 year old girl who had no idea of the BMTH origins and why her celeb crush Oli Sykes is ordering a juggernaut to run through her like an NFL line-backer. So you have 2 options. 1, you pull up a bit shy of them and actually end up protecting them a little and it feels anticlimactic. Or 2, you absolutely bulldoze a teenager and then if you actually have a conscience you feel a little bad.

Of course we choose 2 but was it worth the couple of minutes of fun? 

Probably, actually.

Actually when you think about it you can tell a person’s IQ by what row of a Wall of Death they stand in. If they are towards the back they are most likely a Barista or a Subway Sandwich Artist, respectable but pathetic. People at the front consist of P.E Teachers and Crackheads which are basically the same thing. Finally for the love of god if I EVERRRRRR see you in the middle of the Wall of Death trying to hog the spotlight like the dweeb you are. I will shank you.


We currently don’t get to run through small people because of a global pandemic.

How to improve

As mentioned above. Some enjoy. Some do not. All would enjoy however if the 2 sides slid into each other crotch first like in Blades Of Glory

Or even better, I don’t know if anyone else was at the Parkway Drive gig in Melbourne circa 2010 when Winston split the crowd in 2 sides. One half for everyone going for St Kilda in the grand final, the other for Collingwood scum I mean supporters, and then they kicked a footy into the middle of the wall of death and watched the biggest game of markers up ever. They should do that. Every time. Except with cake.

Actually throw a bag of white powder in the middle of that bitch and tell everyone to wait like they’re dogs wanting a treat. Fucking sesh gremlins.

Finally, I put this to you. Instead of lining up into 2 sides, we form a gargantuan circle. On the bands call we run to the centre of the circle. We call it…The sphincter of death

I think that’s a good time to end it this week. 

Stay safe friends. Next week we shake things up.

See you in Michigan xoxo

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