YOU know that scene in the film Jurassic Park, where the footsteps of a dinosaur make ripples in a glass of water? Well I had a similar sense of fear while waiting for Weymouth wrestling legend Klondyke Kate.

Mind you, it was my own fault for making her angry. Very, very angry as it happened.

After expressing an interest in women’s wrestling, I’d found myself sitting ringside at the Bournemouth Pavilion ballroom. From my research I knew that my opponents would be the veteran Kate and the 4ft 11 Little Miss Dynamite.

I wasn’t unduly concerned and that was my first mistake. First out of the dressing room was the glamorous Little Miss Dynamite in a fetching pink costume. So far so good.

As Little Miss Dyn-amite, or Erin, did some pre-match stretches I was surprised to learn that she had been professionally wrestling for seven years des-pite being only 23.

“I began my training when I was 15 under the tuition of wrestling veterans Drew McDonald, Phil Powers and Jonny Storm,” says Erin.

For a bloodthirsty female wrestler, Erin was charming and happily explained her signature moves, such as the missile dropkick. The pleasant conversation lulled me into a false sense of confidence.

Desperate to get to grips with these Lycra ladies, I demanded that Klondyke Kate hurry up and got into costume. Big mistake.

Never rush a lady when she’s getting ready, especially when she’s 24 stone and carrying a niggling back injury. Also, remember to call Klondyke Kate by her real name of Jayne.

“Right, where’s this journalist. Because of him I’ve not been able to put my make-up on and my back’s killing me,” said Jayne as she got me in a headlock. With my face smothered in her ample bosom, I finally got a taste of women’s wrestling.

“I think he’s enjoying this, it’s obviously not hurting enough. Did you hear that cracking noise?”

The strange noise was Little Miss Dynamite making my arm bend the wrong way.

I ached for a week after our encounter and still flinch when approached by big women.