The place looks familiar. Awfully familiar. A CLOSE-UP on keys hung from a belt as they jangle whilst the occupant walks down a dimly lit hallway.
WIDE-SHOT of Hughie Freeman strolling down a hallway in the Best Arena, carefree. Until he reaches a door. Granted, he’s passed several since broadcast. Calmly and gracefully, Hughie Freeman elevates his face up close up to the door itself.
FREEMAN: You’re being served, Dessy.
The rebuttal doesn’t come. However, it seems Hughie wasn’t expecting one.
FREEMAN: You’ve claimed squatters rights far too long and simply ran out of every human rights entitlement you think a pathetic soul like you deserves.
We’ve tried. We’ve really fucking tried to accommodate you and your circumstances but that just ain’t good enough is it? You greedy son of a bitch..
The Taxman gently taps his knuckle off the glass pane, twice or perhaps three times.
FREEMAN: You’ve heard the knock. You know what’s coming to you. You’re borrowed time here in HOW requires full payment.
Twenty four hours you little cunt and you can no longer lawfully flaunt about calling yourself HOW. GOD’s way is always above the clouds and above board. But your man’s way.. if The Taxman had his way, Sunny Jim, then this window would be out and I’d drag you back through it head first. Fuck that, come 17th April if you’re still free-loading.. your man will pop down to the local fish market and pick out a fifty kilogram salmon. Hughie Freeman will thank that good sir for his brilliant service, come back here.. not even give you the courtesy of another knock and smash that fucking salmon through this pane of glass. Then and only then it will give you an insight on exactly what we think of you in HOW. Once fisher price.. always fisher price.
One week your dog ate your homework, this week you’ve got a collapsed anus. Why GOD of all people gave you pity your man has no idea. But that’s the beauty of the guy. Evil Genius nothing. GOD has been good to you and enriched your life with a HOW contract. You’re lucky, you’re priviledged.. you’re so ungrateful. GOD is good and when you didn’t hold up your side of the contract and repay it by turning up against Sutler Kael. Well mate, your might as well not have shown up after that dismal display… The Taxman already started drawing up his own contract. And that contract was the law biding Pikey Fuck getting the full green light on lighting your face up black and blue.
You’re a fucking bum.
Wrestling 101 nothing. What do you think this is.. fucking charity? Hughie Freeman ain’t putting you over because you would rather sit smelling in there rotting out your remaining days here. So instead of building this match up like your man probably should: nah, not today. You’ve had too many days. One too many days over your allocated stay. You’ve been living in this bitch rent free like you are the most deserving fucker on this whole entire roster. Your self-entitlement sickens me and you’ve been using this space in your locker-room that could have housed a more appreciating talent. That or just let Silent Witness crash here and use it as a makeshift soup kitchen.
Then you got Sutler Kael. See what your man is having to do here? Name-dropping cos you’ve done Sweet FA to engage with The Taxman. The Taxman that is a real accommodating guy that would listen if you just didn’t chose to sweep all of your troubles underneath the rug. Regardless, Sutler was right last week. You’ve gave this fine company nothing and you expect success to drop into your lap. But listen, your man hasn’t done his research either. Cos guess what? Your man doesn’t need to look up anything about you to know exactly who you are.
You’re a thief. You’re a toe-rag. You’re a parasite. You’re a tea-leaf. You’re a college drop out. You’re a dole-waller. You’re a bottom feeder. You’re a leach. You’re cretin scum. You’re indebted up to your eye balls and the big old nasty lone shark is gunna jaws your face off!
But your man shouldn’t complain. Cos waste-of-spaces like you.. keep The Taxman in a job. As long as there’s chancers like you in this business they’ll always be work for me to carry out. Guys like you that get that golden ticket when they sign for HOW and then that’s it.. your work stops. You think the hard work is done so there’s no reason to keep the drive. The drive that probably got you that contract in the first place. You feel like you can just turn up and that’s all that’s required. Fuck mate, this isn’t a doss-house you know. GOD ain’t just gunna wipe your arse for you and treat you all softly-softly. Mate, this is fucking HOW. And HOW you’ve managed to negotiate a contract here in HOW sickens me. Even for a Pikey Fuck. Aye, that’s rich coming for your man. Cos Freeman is all about hustling for every last penny. But you’ve fucking lied my friend. You’ve lied through your perfect little nashers. That’ll be imperfect once your man cracks them at Refueled LIX.
You’ve sat in front of GOD himself.. one hand on the bible and told a great bunch of codswallop. You’re no fighting man.. you’re a disgrace to the human race. You’re a fraud in spandex and it really ain’t a good look. For you or HOW. But your man could careless what you look like. Cos your man will make you look totally worlds apart when you get your hearing on 17th April. I’m telling you. Turn up to the hearing.. be a man for once in your life and not a yellow belly. The money quite frankly isn’t what’s necessarily important here. Granted my man, you will pay up buy hook or by crook. But for you it’s all about manhood. It’s can you look in the mirror and say that you faced up to your punishment. To be honest, if you’re asking your man.. your dick has been shrivelled into your belly for so long where you don’t know nothing different. My ploy could quite easily insult you until the cows come home but at the end of the day it wont make a difference. The attacks in evoking some beast that’s never been created inside of you is simply the wrong tactics. But your man knows that just as much as you do. But if you’ve got any ounce of courage there little lion.. come on out.
Mate, if you come out now.. we can forget this whole thing. Hughie Freeman knows that you’ve got the money in there cos of your Harvard boast. That’s right; your man wasn’t born yesterday. Just come on out.. lets have a chat. You see, I’m still in my business attire. That means The Taxman has only come to collect what is rightfully owed. The money and the residence as GOD as your landlord. You wait until the 17th at Refueled LIX and that’s a whole different ball game altogether. Aye okay, you might get a slap here just for good measure. That’ll be a promise.. almost a guarantee. But so fuck. Just take a slap like a good little lad and then we’ll have a coffee. Job done. It’ll only be if your card gets declined that the coffee may or may not go back in your sly face. But take the risk, it’s worth it. It’s worth taking your beating now then for the extra costs amounted on Refueled LIX.
But if you can’t raise your game for a name like Kael.. don’t patronise me you little cunt; you wont be bothered to fight me. Cos your man already knows what you think of The Pikey Fuck even without you opening your snobby mouth. Bust listen, think what you like. Your man’s name has been driven through muck his whole life. Especially from little smart little fuckers like you. But isn’t it all wonderful how The Dog is chasing you down. An untouchable prick like you who clearly thinks he’s above the law. Well in your little protected world where you’ve been wrapped up in cotton wool, then maybe. But lad, the only thing that’s between you and The Taxman in this reality is a flimsy little door. The reality is that the law of HOW says that your man has to wait until 17th April. But fine, your man will play ball and hold up his end of the bargain.
But listen lad, your man will happily camp out here until your debt is paid. Cos are you fuck escaping through the cat flap with no repercussions. If there is one thing you are fully deserving in HOW then that’s a good hard smack that’s for sure. But that makes no odds to your man Hughie Freeman. I’ll collect this debt whether it’s one day or one year. Your man cares that much about this particular debt that the depths I will go to will mean there’s no running this time. Mammy and daddy can’t bail you out this royal time. Cos like I say mate, money is no drive to a guy like Hughie Freeman. The job at hand.. the desire of my self-fucking-respect means everything. No money can buy that just a good old fashioned clip.
Trying to be nice wont get you anywhere. Your man has tried to be straight up and totally honest with you. But you’re treating me like a mug. Even if you open this door on the eleventh hour.. you’re late. You’re far too late. You’re always full of apologies of why shit goes wrong for you. But aye, grand.. no problem. We’re a sympathetic bunch, honestly. However lad, when you then leave it so fucking late after a sob-story for your shit show last week.. no excuses. There’s simply no excuses lad. You should of been hard at work the very next day putting the loss to Kael to rights. Making sure you leave every last stone unturned but no. That requires too much hard work. That requires responsibility. Responsibility that you’ve not had a single ounce of in your whole life. Your too busy in there getting fat on value cheese. My fucking cheese! The cheese of HOW that doesn’t fucking belong to you. Not then and certainly not now. You’re like the rest of them stealing a living here who don’t give a fuck about ticket sales and HOW ratings. You’re too self-absorbed to realise that it’s not some one man gig. You need to be a team player whether you like it or not. Your Royal Pikey Fuck found that out and look at me now. Look at me now..
Collecting for the rich! Cos there’s nobody more richer than Hughie Freeman let me tell you. Your man feels blessed every single bastard day here. But the difference between us is.. your man never hid away. You think you deserve more? You don’t believe you’ve been given a fair shake? Then speak up. That’s all you got to do. Do not go quietly into the night. Fucking fight me! Be the man your daddy wants you to be and tell this Pikey Fuck why you’re worth a Black Mamba shit.
We’re the Best of everything my friend. That’s all you need to know about your man and The Best Alliance. You try and rob us you little carny and it’ll be your funeral. You’re clearly mad but haven’t got the onions to back the madness up. You’re just a fart in a phonebox. You are no threat to this business.. only in buy rates. Which you think it should have nothing to do with you but has everything to do with you. You’re the performer that supposedly everyone wants to see. And if they’re not your words.. they should be! Cos the lack of bums on seats means the more knuckles on your cheeks from dastardly evil.
Young mothers and babies require shelter like this and you couldn’t give a monkeys. And people think your man is a bad man? Hughie Freeman ain’t no bad man. Trust me, the HOW faithful who once chanted for me.. I’ll do this one for you, honestly. When your man is done punching Desmond’s face like cake mix.. I’ll picture the homeless. All of the Silent Witness’ in the world that would die for refugee like this locker-room. You heartless son of a bitch would see HOW greats out on the streets then to face up and tackle your problems head on. Your biggest and most baddest problem being Hughie Freeman. Nothing greater.
I’ll see you shortly you little snivelling coward. Your man won’t be far.. I’ll just be marching these halls in eternal darkness. Whilst your man knows for a FACT you’ll be wanting to–
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKING ON HEAVENS DOOR
Wanting a prayer.
But it’s over.
Freeman stoops down whilst pulling out a crumpled envelope from out of his suit jacket pocket. He then immediately shoves it under the door ever so casually whilst whistling that Bob Dylan classic.