Memorial Show 2

Memorial Show 2

Posted on December 16, 2020 at 5:00 pm by Hughie Freeman

‘Shadow Of Myself’ plays us in. Subsequently, the harmonica instrumental version we heard whilst observing the dimese of Pikey Fuck, Hughie Freeman.

Oh my GOD…! Could it be..?! It really is! It’s Jonny O’Dell after all of these years. He appears before the camera in the flesh and not just referenced in a Mike Best promo. He’s looking slick and well, docked out in a pin-striped suit. His hair.. oh his glorious hair, swiftly combed over like a modern day John Travolta.

Production quality remains poor as a camera phone is placed on a tripod. Whilst Jonny O’Dell sits on a folding chair, the banner on the wall behind him doesn’t go unnoticed. It reads: Memorial Show 2.

O’DELL: Greetings, tonight we pay our respects to The Proud Fighting Man, Hughie Freeman. As you will know he shot himself last night and tonight we shoot on The Pikey Fuck out of LOVE. Like he would have wanted it.. transparency and honesty, right down the line.

I’ll start.. Hughie, you’re a bastard. But a good bastard. You’re not a company bastard that will always do as he’s told, but you’re a true enigma my friend. You were lightning in a whiskey bottle and it’s a shame they never got the full taste. You were The True Fighting Irish and a true man of the people.

When you had me locked away for months in your basement and used me as a human punchbag.. that was a great time we shared. Cos that, whether people like it or not, was beautiful expressive art. And for that my friend.. thank-you. You made me relevant all over again, regardless of the broken ribs and soup sucking through a straw.

With that said, your next segment is brought to you by former Benchwarmer and long lost friend, Scott Stevens.

An editing effect comes over our screens and it’s an old channel flicking fuzz effect.


Our scene is set in a Church. The altar is free and there is some commotion as Stevens makes his way towards the podium to speak. However, it isn’t the Stevens we all think it is because the man that is about to speak is the patriarch of the Stevens family, Cary Stevens. Even at a funeral Cary is still styling and profiling.

Cary Stevens: Good evening.

Cary says as he looks around and sees the disappointed faces on the faces of the people in attendance.

Cary Stevens: My son couldn’t be here because he’s you know trying to learn how to walk again and it’s not looking good.

There are some gasps in the audience.

Cary Stevens: Bright side, he’ll be able to park closer now.

Cary chuckles to himself, but the people in attendance aren’t laughing with him.

Cary Stevens: Anyways, I’m here on behalf of my son to deliver a eulogy for Dewey Freeman.

Cary clears his throat before speaking.

Cary Stevens: What needs to be said about Louie Freeman that hasn’t been said already?

Cary asks as he looks towards the casket.

Cary Stevens: Dewey was a man of the people because he was a fighting champion taking on all comers and what did it get him?

Cary asks another question before answering it himself.

Cary Stevens: Deader than Max Kael.

There is a collective gasp in the audience, but the Texan continues.

Cary Stevens: You see, my cripple of a son was a man of the people as well and you all saw what Dan Ryan did to him.

There is murmuring going around but Cary continues.

Cary Stevens: Being a man of the people only gets you crippled or in Louie’s case….dead. Maybe if he wasn’t trying to prove how tough he is every week or measuring the size of hockey sticks with Scott Woodman he would still be with us today, and more importantly he would still be the LSD champion!

Cary shouts in frustration.

Cary Stevens: Dewey had what it took to make it to the top, but he wasted it on all of you.

Cary points to the audience.

Cary Stevens: His blood is on your hands as you filled his head with the nonsense that he has to prove something to everyone when he didn’t have to. Steel Cage matches, I Quit matches, Confinement matches, and who knows what God’s name else he battled in.

Cary says as he shakes his head.

Cary Stevens: You disgust me because a great wrestler’s life was cut short for your entertainment and you all should be fucking ashamed of yourselves!

Cary shouts.

Cary Stevens: Louie didn’t deserve to go out like that. He deserved better than a Max Kael exit. He should be in the Main Event of ICONIC defending his LSD championship against the World and ICON champions in a Winner Takes All match, but that isn’t going to happen because of you all.

Cary states as he points to the audience once again.

Cary Stevens: Rest in Peace Dewey. Rest in peace.

Cary says as he steps away from the podium and exits.

The fuzz breakup effect comes back into play and returns us back to our familiar setting with Jonny O’Dell.


O’DELL: That’s great, Stevens. Words spoken by a true great there. A respected man in the sport that has never once put a boot wrong. He’s the PC bumming brigades worst nightmare and we here appreciate The Stevens.

O’Dell tries to cover up Stevens’ installemt of being set in a big elaborate setting. When really, a video call would have sufficed.

O’DELL: Next up we have a very special guest. He’s no stranger to Hughie Freeman at all, in fact they used to be considered friends. He’s big, he’s red, his feet stick out the bed..! It’s Lucien Sanitangel!

The fuzz overlaps the image and we’re right back in the same room. Except without the inclusion of Jonny O’Dell. There, however.. sits a small pumpkin on the folding chair. It’s been carved in true Nightmare Before Christmas fashion.

O’DELL V. O: Hi everyone, it’s me, Santi. I just want to say that I forgive Hughie Freeman for the accident that caused my face to burn. I mean, sure, I have to put an ice pop on my face to sooth me every ten minute but that’s my life now. I hold no grudges and actually it really gave me a name in the industry. Now when I walk down the street people always look at me. I think they want my autograph but I like to play heel. And if you think this is an angle then you’ve got another thing coming. You’ve lost the only good thing about this company and like me: once it’s gone.. It’s gone. Sure, we’ve all done bad. But in one hundred years we’ll all be dead anyway so let us all, please, try to get along.

Rest and peace my famous foe.

Instead of the special effect, this time Jonny O’Dell just enters the shot and removes the pumpkin. He adjusts himself before speaking again.


O’DELL: Cute little Steve Harrison. Not so cute anymore.

Alright cunt.. the gloves are off. You wonna say Master Hughie is nonsensical? Really dickhead? Well let’s put it in layman’s terms, plain and simple so you can understand: you’re a dead man. You see, that’s your fucking problem, mate. You think this cutthroat-style you got going on is your ace in the pack but you’re a fucking joker, mate. Not Jatt. Your ability to make them believe that you’re just a little guy happy to be here was your super strength, you Pop Eyed idiot. Every cunt and his dog took it easy on you and believe you me you stupid cunt.. your playing into my hands when ‘World’s Greatest’ by R-Kelly hits and out steps Jonny. O.

You’re fucking predictable.

You lose one and now your man is meant to believe you’re some killer now? Laughable mate. Are you still following? Well follow Hughie’s whole HOW career and don’t be blinkered. The real killers are in Alcatraz and that’s where The Pikey Fuck made his name. Not in a fucking diary farm. You match HATE with HATE with a killer like Hughie Freeman and you’re getting sliced up. Simple as that. You do HATE like Jatt does serious. It won’t work for you so go back to flogging Mike Best merchandise cos that’s your place. Know your fucking place.. It’s not in that ring with the life and death of Hughie Freeman, bonny lad.

I’m a follower of Hughie Freeman. And The Power Of The Pikey is running strong. He might not be here, but he is. He’s everywhere. You’ve got the GOD of the HOW but Hughie Freeman is the GOD of the scum. I get him and what he is trying to create. His death wasn’t an act of self-loathing, but rather an artistic performance that cannot be replicated. The whispers and rumours have already started and only he could create that. A true artist of his craft and taking the spotlight back whilst he looks up at us. That light is breaking through that heavy soil only for your man Hughie Freeman. And I must finish the job he started.

You didn’t give two frigs whilst he was here so why are you arsed now? Cos he’s made you arsed. That’s why. Hughie Freeman can make you laugh, cry and HATE in body and in spirit. He’s looking on now and he’s fucking smiling and winking at all of you bum dossers scrambling around for the lickings from GOD’s dog. Greeding off of any bit of press you can get when Hughie Freeman is always one step ahead. Criticise all you like but Hughie Freeman would rather die with pride then to have a big fat cock drawn on him.

Rape? Really mate? By lad, nothing gets past you, does it? You’re a real mastermind. Is that how you really interpret Hughie’s precious art? You’re like Turettes Guy taking everything in for face value and spewing it out: LYNDSEY TROY’S TITS! It’s like you’re singing off the same HOW hymn sheet as everybody else and it’s fucking pathetic. But if you don’t get Pikey Art then please go back and educate yourself. Cos it’s far too easy for your man to tell the idiot. But the idiot’s mind isn’t ready to be blown yet. That comes at ICONIC. Rewatch it, everything Hughie was involved in leading up to Rumble At The Rock and broaden your fucking mind, Milky Bar Kid. It’s a big bad world out there, cutie.. and it’s not rapists you need to be worried about. It’s the killers.

Jonny O’Dell’s eyes suddenly widen like he’s some hologram being started up.

O’DELL: Reach out and touch me, Harri. You can’t, can you? Your tactics are written on the back of an empty milk carton and your man knows your every move. You’re baffled, but that’s not your fault. That’s how HOW created you. It’s predictable but you can never point that cow udder at Hughie Freeman my friend. Fuck mate, you’re still questioning Hughie’s antics even now.. the good man’s dead and its mundane cunts like you that put him there. Gave him an early grave. But fuck, if Jonny O  gets beat off you a second time whilst honouring the Freeman name.. I’ll shoot myself too.

Nobody knows what angle Hughie Freeman is coming at and that’s your man’s biggest strength. Your simple mind calls it insecurity but I call it Hughie Freeman living in your head rent free you little cocksucker. And whilst Freeman is in there then I’m sure he’s gunna make you touch Rebecca’s tit you virgin fuck. Or haunt your ass to expose you for the fraud you are you little scared boy.

Whatever is conventional, Hughie Freeman is the opposite. So if you want to walk in a straight line, Freeman’s going to walk in zigzags. If you want to throw a 1-2, Freeman will throw a 2-1. His brother Shane and him used to spar with each other in the kitchen. They didn’t have gloves, so they wrapped tea towels around their hands. So you can pull on your big boy pants all you like, pretend you’re a big bad meanie – don’t matter. You’re a fraud and the law is catching up to you. The law of GBH on your pasty face.

He’s had hundreds of challenges at Traveller gatherings. They get a few beers in them, and they start thinking they are Tyson or Ali: throwing punches, swearing, and jumping around with their big fat bellies. But at least it’s honest. At least it comes from a real place and not processed from bull like your bastard milk.

All Hughie Freeman wanted was to make money, get on with his life, and be involved in good fights. If he couldn’t be involved in good fights, then what’s the point being alive? There’s never been someone like Hughie Freeman in history – a fighter like him only comes along every 1,000 years. Foolish people follow the system, get caught up in media news, what the government wants you to believe and all the higher powers want you to believe, and go down the same path as all the sheep in the cattle market. But at least Hughie Freeman gave you his word like a good honest fighting man. Not flipped flopped his character like footwear worn from a fat Brit at Benidorm.

Hughie will be dictated to by nobody. He’s a free-man. First from the clutches of Uncle Sam and now from the harness of GOD. He’s the man. And if anyone can prove me wrong, their chance is to go out and create something meaningful. You don’t like it, change the station and enjoy some pre-watershed Jatt Starr skits.

Whether someone like Jatt Starr wins, loses, draws, or gets knocked out in five seconds, he is still a big name. Something Hughie Freeman’s name wasn’t on the main stage. But to the underground, where the voice of the people matters.. Hughie Freeman is there right besides you, Jatt. You don’t know it and the whole HOW doesn’t know it but once the death settles you’ll start to remember the moments. The moments that made this product good to watch again and not just the same names on the same pay-per-views. But credit to you, Jatt. Cos you’ve gone from super stardom to super journeyman. Doing the rounds, doing the miles. Credit to you but you’re an old dog. Like me, you’re a Tin Man in this athletic game now, son. But luckily Hughie is powered through my veins to get me through this final farewell.

LSD champion. One and done. And Hughie Freeman being a two-time-greatest-of-alllll-time champion.

It was all great you all had a lovers tiff last week.. milk, tits and a dick right there in that arena. But it was some of the brainless pieces of television your man Jonny O’Dell has ever seen. And that’s coming from a bloke that made love to a stray greyhound. And there’s me thinking the eGGbandits ran too long. It was like Lord Of The Rings was caught on bastard loop. Then you wonder why Hughie Freeman wanted to distance himself? It’s attachment. Attachment to HOW the product and what real men think of wrestling. The shame of being caught up in a low budget soap opera and being ridiculed in real life. Look through history.. Hughie bashed me just as hard as he bashed RICK and Scottywood. Simply because of attachment. I simply was in his mere presence.. RICK and Scotty baked brownies together. Yeah, when you say it out loud it kind of rings home. No wonder a bastard Milk Man threw him over the edge.

But the stage is set and the Hughie Freeman Fighting Pride will live on. With my fists clenched and heart beating like a Pikey Fuck. This is for you, Hughie..

O’Dell’s voice breaks, emotionally.


Before emotionally breaking down, Jonny bows his head and the fuzz effect disturbs the touching moment.


RICK..! He’s back! He’s stood in a lonely field in Cork, Ireland with a bunch of daffodils in hand. The field of yellow daffodils burst through the lens but its The Monster RICK that dominates the frame.




The sorrowful looking RICK holds deadly still. However, a little droplet of a tear trickles down his cheek.