In the annals of professional wrestling history, few figures command as much conflicted respect as Thomas Billington, known to the world as The Dynamite Kid. Inside the squared circle, he was a revolutionary. He is universally credited with introducing a high-impact, snap-action style that influenced a generation of wrestlers, including Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero, and Bryan Danielson. He was pound-for-pound one of the greatest in-ring performers to ever live.
The Architect of the Rib
To understand the fear Billington instilled, one must understand the culture of the WWF in the 1980s. It was a “wild west” environment fueled by testosterone, cocaine, steroids, and alcohol. “Ribbing”—the act of playing pranks on fellow wrestlers—was a standard way to pass the time on the grueling road schedule. But for the Dynamite Kid, ribbing was not about humor; it was about dominance.
Partnered with his cousin Davey Boy Smith as The British Bulldogs, Billington ruled the locker room with an iron fist. Their ribs were not harmless practical jokes. They were destructive and often chemically dangerous.
Stories of the Bulldogs’ cruelty are numerous. They were known to cut up wrestlers’ clothes, leaving them with nothing to wear to the next town. They would defecate in people’s food or luggage. In one infamous instance involving a wrestler known as “Outback Jack,” they allegedly injected him with milk or other substances to make him sick, or drugged him to the point of incapacitation just for their own amusement.
Mick Foley, who worked as an enhancement talent (jobber) during the Bulldogs’ peak, recounted in his autobiography Have a Nice Day how terrifying it was to be in the ring with them. Billington did not “work light.” He took pride in hitting opponents as hard as possible, often inflicting legitimate pain on those who had no power to fight back. He viewed kindness as weakness and sought to break anyone he perceived as “soft.”
This behavior was enabled by their position on the card. The British Bulldogs were a top draw, holding the WWF Tag Team Championships and putting on the best matches on the card. Management, including Vince McMahon, largely turned a blind eye to the bullying as long as the tickets were selling. This impunity emboldened Billington, making him believe he was untouchable.
The Rougeau Brothers Incident
The downfall of the Dynamite Kid’s locker room dominance came from an unlikely source: a French-Canadian tag team known as The Fabulous Rougeaus. Jacques and Raymond Rougeau were skilled technicians who kept to themselves, but they became the target of Billington’s harassment.
The tension began with a card game. The locker room was a gambling den, and Billington often bullied others out of money or accused them of cheating. The ribs against the Rougeaus escalated. Their belongings were tampered with, and they were subjected to constant verbal abuse. In the macho culture of the 80s, the Rougeaus knew that complaining to management would label them as “stooges.” They had to handle it themselves.
The boiling point occurred when the Bulldogs allegedly pranked the Rougeaus’ belongings (some accounts say clothes were cut, others say a lock was tampered with). Jacques Rougeau decided he had had enough. He knew he could not beat the Dynamite Kid in a fair fight; Billington was a legitimate “shooter” with a reputation for toughness. Jacques needed an equalizer.
The confrontation took place in a dining hall (accounts vary between Miami and Fort Wayne, Indiana) before a television taping. Jacques Rougeau approached Billington, who was seated. Billington, arrogant and expecting verbal sparring, stood up to intimidate Jacques.
Jacques did not hesitate. He had a roll of quarters tightly clenched in his fist to add weight and density to his punch. He struck Billington squarely in the mouth.
The impact was devastating. Four of Billington’s teeth were knocked out instantly. As Billington crumbled, Raymond Rougeau stepped in to ensure Davey Boy Smith could not intervene. Jacques reportedly continued the assault, making it clear that the bullying was over.
The aftermath was a seismic shift in the WWF power dynamics. The “toughest man in the company” had been beaten up by the “nice guys.” Billington’s aura of invincibility was shattered. While he remained a dangerous wrestler, the fear he instilled in the locker room evaporated. The bully had been bullied, and the roster quietly celebrated.
The Physical Cost of Greatness
Parallel to his backstage tyranny was the destruction of his own body. Billington was a pioneer of a high-risk style that the human frame was not designed to withstand, especially when combined with rampant steroid abuse.
Billington famously used horse steroids and other heavy performance enhancers to maintain a heavyweight physique on a cruiserweight frame. The extra muscle mass put immense strain on his joints and spine.
In 1986, in a match in Hamilton, Ontario, disaster struck. While wrestling, Billington felt a searing pain in his back. He had suffered a severe herniated disc. The injury was debilitating. He was hospitalized and told he might never wrestle again.
However, the WWF needed the Bulldogs to drop the tag titles to the Hart Foundation. In a display of grit that bordered on madness, Billington discharged himself from the hospital against medical advice. He was practically carried into the ring by Davey Boy Smith, barely able to stand, just to lose the belts.
He returned to the ring far too soon, refusing to alter his style. He continued to deliver the diving headbutt—a move that compressed his spine with every impact—and take massive bumps. By his late 20s, his body was already beginning to shut down.
The Bitter Exit and Estrangement
The British Bulldogs left the WWF in 1988 after a series of disputes with management and the other wrestlers. They returned to Stampede Wrestling and All Japan Pro Wrestling, but the magic was fading.
The partnership between Billington and Davey Boy Smith eventually dissolved into bitterness. Billington resented Smith for registering the trademark “The British Bulldog” for himself, effectively cutting Billington out of the royalties and the identity they had built together. When Smith returned to the WWF in the 90s as a solo star, Billington viewed it as a betrayal.
Billington’s personal life was equally volatile. His marriage to his first wife, Michelle, was marred by severe domestic abuse. In his autobiography Pure Dynamite, and later in the Dark Side of the Ring documentary, horrific details emerged. He admitted to waking his wife up by holding a shotgun to her head. He threatened her and their children. The violence that he inflicted on the locker room was nothing compared to the terror he inflicted on his own family.
Michelle eventually fled the marriage, taking the children and moving back to Canada, leaving Billington alone in England.
The Sad Final Years
The final chapter of Tom Billington’s life was a grim existence of isolation and physical decay. By the late 1990s, the damage to his back and legs had rendered him unable to walk. He was confined to a wheelchair, living in a small council flat in Wigan, England.
The steroid abuse, painkillers, and head trauma had taken a heavy toll. He suffered a series of strokes and heart problems. In video interviews from this period, the man who once flew through the air with grace was slumped, slurring his speech, and visibly withered.
Despite his condition, the bitterness remained. He harbored deep grudges against the wrestling industry, Vince McMahon, and his former partner Davey Boy Smith (who died in 2002). He expressed little remorse for his past actions, viewing his bullying as “toughening up” the boys and his domestic violence as a private matter.
However, there were moments of humanity. He received visits from wrestlers like Chris Jericho and Scott Hall, who paid homage to his in-ring genius while acknowledging his flaws. A GoFundMe campaign was launched by fans to help him purchase a modified van, allowing him some semblance of mobility in his final years.
The End of the Fuse
Tom Billington passed away on December 5, 2018, at the age of 60. It was the same date he had passed away, coincidentally, as his 60th birthday.
His death reignited the debate about his legacy. Can you separate the art from the artist? Inside the ring, the Dynamite Kid was a performer whose matches against Tiger Mask are still studied today as the gold standard of junior heavyweight wrestling. He innovated the Snap Suplex, the Tombstone Piledriver (before the Undertaker), and the Diving Headbutt.
But outside the ring, he was a cautionary tale of toxicity. He was a man who used his strength to hurt the weak, both professionally and personally. The “Reign of Terror” he presided over in the WWF locker room left scars on his victims that lasted decades.
In the end, the Dynamite Kid’s life serves as a stark reminder of the dark side of the wrestling glory days. He gave his body to the business and took his anger out on the world, dying broken and alone, a legend who was admired for what he did, but feared for who he was.
