Rollergirls really rock

Formed just over a year ago, the Glasgow Roller Girls compete in one of the most hard-hitting contact sports around - where a broken coccyx, dislocated shoulder, snapped ribs and even a dislodged breast implant are all par for the course.

"Another thing players get is fishnet burn," adds Scarlett Smith, aka the team's Mistress Malicious and vice-chairman. It's a wheely tough game

MAUREEN ELLIS road tests her wheels at a Glasgow Roller Girls practice session...

RIPPED fishnet tights, sprawling tattoos and punk hair colours bear little resemblance to my fondest memories of roller-skating; the beautiful white skates with pretty rainbow motif that will forever remain my most cherished of Christmas presents.

But the ugly black derby quads that have been thrust upon me - not to mention the sturdy helmet, wrist, knee and elbow guards - make me feel like a cross between a flopping fish out of water and Bambi on ice.

Skating for the first time in more than a decade, my new, fatter indoor wheels are scarily slippery and I'm already on my backside before I've even left the changing area of the Arc. Good start.

Having ungracefully pulled myself up using the benches and more effort than should really be necessary, I find the balance and right amount of movement - barely a muscle flicker - required to propel me towards the practice room. Thankfully, there's plenty of walls and doors to hang onto along the way.

Scarlett trusses me up with the various joint guards and I complete my first lap with only a few wibble-wobbles as the other girls fly past like crazed, mini-skirted pinballs auditioning for a Rollerball remake.

Building up my speed progressively, she teaches me to go faster (moving skates outwards and away from my body), turn (a slight lean to the side) and three different ways to stop. One of those involves just falling onto my knees; the snow-plough-close-together and foot-dragging-behind were slightly less painful methods.

I'm delighted that I manage to crank the pace up to something approaching quite respectable, but give up just as my left foot cramps for the third time and escape to a safe corner when the team begin their aggressive bouting sessions.

"How did you find it?" asks one rollergirl, to which I reply that I really enjoyed the skating part.

"It's just the violence that you're not sure about," she laughs. Pretty much.

SCARLETT'S VERDICT: Good potential. You did very well considering you hadn't skated in so long. We'll make a rollergirl of you yet, I'm sure.

"It happens when they've landed on the track and when you take your fishnets off, then you've got the perfect image still on your thigh."

Roller derby is an American flat track game dating from the Depression era that's currently enjoying a renaissance in Britain, with teams from Aberdeen to Brighton taking part.

Comprising local women aged from 18 to 45, the team is made up of all shapes, sizes and backgrounds; including a doctor, nurse, truck driver, fitness instructor and charity worker, who each take on their fierce rollergirl skatename.

"You can be a Plain Jane during the day, but when you're on the track you can become someone else," adds Scarlett.

"It's attracting people so much because it's a women's sport that's so different, and the visual aspect of it is so great as well. It is quite an empowering sport."

The team was founded by Teri Toxic (Teri McGonagle), who has since left to have a baby. And watching one of the team's twice-weekly, two-hour-long practice session is a scary proposition in itself.

Two five-strong roller derby teams race around the makeshift oval track in Glasgow Caledonian's Arc sports centre at lightning speed.

Each team's "jammer", or point-scorer, tries to pass the pack made up of three blockers and one pivot from both of the two teams.

The blockers try to force the jammers off the track by whatever legal means necessary. A forceful shoulder or hip charge is commonplace, but elbow jabs are definitely out. Jammers are identified by a star on their helmet, pivots - the last line of defence - by a stripe.

Each bout lasts two minutes, with substitutes drafted in regularly by the watching line-up managers to replace any exhausted players.

A point is scored when the jammer passes a team member from the opposing squad. When a jammer passes the entire pack, she can call off the bout by placing her hands on her hips - and thus stop the other team from scoring.

The team's best jammer Marla Mayhem is whippet fast as she streaks with ease past the pack, but it's terrifying to watch another point-scorer forced off the track, and sent hurtling into a wall. By the looks of it, she's out cold.

A first aid team is called for and the rollergirl comes round quickly.

"We have a saying that what happens on the track stays on the track, so when it's over it's over and there's nothing personal.

"You become someone else and then you go back to your day job afterwards," adds West End-based mum-of-two Scarlett.

The team have just travelled to their first competitive bouts, taking on London and Birmingham in the last month. They lost 163-31 to London and 91-74 to Birmingham.

The experience has served to make them all the more determined - and they're set to host an international bout on June 6, taking on a Canadian team in a match at the Arc that will be open to the public.

"That's going to be a biggie," says Scarlett, who is currently trying to source financial sponsorship.

The team is overseen by a nine-strong management committee chaired by Armalite Angie.

Each member pays a monthly membership fee of £25, while new recruits, not yet up to competitive matches, pay £5 per practice session to help cover the cost of hall hire.

It's an expensive hobby from the outset. A pair of the quad derby skates will set you back over £80, then there's the helmet, gumshields, wrist, elbow and kneepads to shell out for.

It takes around four months of training for a girl to become a competitive rollergirl - and all the original team members are completely self-taught.

Members also sign a disclaimer stating they won't hold the team responsible should any injuries occur.

Team captain Sister Grimm (real name Barbara Kerr) had thought about joining a netball or hockey team when she saw an advert recruiting team members for the rollergirls.

The 28-year-old nuclear medicine practitioner said: "You need to be physically strong, you need to be physically quick, and have an awful lot of stamina.

"You need to be able to take hits, give hits, fall, get back up again - no matter if your leg is hanging off."

Charity project manager Deirdre MacAulay (aka Creamola D'Ville) joined the team last year.

The 32-year-old from Cambusnethan, who acts as a team line-up manager, said: "It's like herding 14 cats who are all angry at you and shouting at all the time."