Shit the bed? Let me tell you what shitting the bed is. Shitting the bed is when your man Hughie Freeman at fifteen/sixteen years old watches fully grown men shit themselves at the near mention of the name: Freeman. Shitting the bed is watching plastic gangsters melt when your man rocks up to the trouble. Fucking shitting the bed is hearing your greatest LSD champion of all time (Scottywood) make noises I’ve never heard a single human make when I caved his fucking skull in. Shitting the bed is when you get that same nasty shit in your eyes and you can no longer see what is in front of you. Don’t you ever get confused: Hughie Freeman’s arse and matress are dead clean, mate
The scene opens in Russia (or Canada) at the back of Hughie Freeman’s fight camp lodge. There, around the campfire he sits fully winter clothed around the campfire with his father, Big John Freeman. John slaps a fully gutted cod fish in a pan over the fire. Whilst Hughie just gazes into the fire in blank admiration, sitting on a log in the cold winters night.
JOHN: We’ll go round tonight, man. With your cousin Creswell and Jacob.
Hughie ignores his father and allows the man to rant.
JOHN: You can’t just let these shithouses just walk all over ya.
Nothing seems to budge Hughie’s relenting focus.
JOHN: What you want to do is go round and shite in his ensuite bathroom and leave the door wide open.
John points his two pronged fork to coincide with his ranting and raving.
JOHN: Naw, what you wonna do is proper set about him, hoy in the boot of the motor, and drop him in a field with half a tonne of cow shite.. then we’ll see who is shite-ing.
The focus temporality focuses on the cooking fish. Particularly, the droopy eye. However.. still better vision than GOD. We quickly transition back to John.
JOHN: Fucking good quality contest like that and they power stance squat over it with the balls left hanging out. Its a disgrace, son.
JOHN: It’s like the blind leading the blind down there. They don’t know a great fight when they see it.
HUGHIE: Dad man, behave, and just leave the cunt.
JOHN: Can’t just fucking leave it. He’s questioning The Freeman’s true fighting heritage. He’s practically shitting on it.
As John Freeman continues to sound off, animatedly. Hughie restores his attention back on the fish.
JOHN: I’ll fight him!
Hughie’s eyes remains transfixed on the cod. Again, particularly the eye with another cutaway shot of its sliminess. Regardless, we focus our attention back on Hughie Freeman.
HUGHIE (V. O): Know what, mate? Your man could sit here around this campfire in front of the whole HOW faithful and say Hughie Freeman has never been a quitter. Your man, in the presence of my father, who is a proud fighting man in his very own right.. I could never shame him if those two words never existed in my vocab. But the truth is: I’d be telling the ultimate porkies.
The LSD Proud Fighting Champion.. is one big fat quitter and I don’t care who knows it. I’d happily shout it from The Miracle Enterprise rooftops, no problem. Or tell every man, woman or child who might question your man’s integrity to sing along to another song that is not Sweet Caroline.
When? October 24th 2020. How? Rumble At The Rock. Why………………..? Cos it’s genuine my mate; no bullshit running down this leg.. just a stiff heavy honesty with no false-pretence. Cos that’s how your man operates. It’s all black and white and never gray, blue or indigo. That’s how your man chooses to do his business with no sneak tactics or damn scheming.
Aye, my match with your man Scottywood at Rumble At The Rock was advertised for Hughie’s freedom and the LSD championship belt. But quit being so superficial, and look at things with a bigger set of specks. Put it this way you cats: if this was a driveway job.. there’s a shitload more tarmak for layers that doesn’t meet the naked eye here. If you were to dig up that driveway.. there’s more groundwork.
John Freeman’s dialogue comes in and out of the Hughie narration in random selection. His ranting is still very much ongoing but with sporadic interludes.
JOHN: Freeze the shit and bash him with it!
Hughie then regains his focus.
HUGHIE (V. O): Listen, the mind is a powerful thing. Sometimes your biggest enemy. And trapped deep inside of Uncle Sam’s arsehole in solitary confinement for as long as your man was.. it can take you away with the fairies and wombles, no bother. Sometimes you don’t know your arse from your elbow, and believe me your man had already been a ten time HOW WORLD champion within a matter of minutes in that bastard. Fuck mate, in there RICK was just as sexy as your beauty Lyndsey Troy and I hated that hippo until he loved me. Fucking the crime that first put me on that devil Island.. none of you had the bollocks to do. And the fragile bums Lee shipped over to get broken were all a part of the same sick game that made Hughie Freeman bright green. Like a 6AM wakeup call for Benny after a VIP Best Alliance War Games victory after party.
But why keep recycling this bullshit, of what went down at Uncle Sam’s when it’s right there in the record books? Cos that’s my journey, Lyndsey. That’s your man’s legacy here in HOW. Your man survived Alcatraz. Fuck, longer than Chris America, and he’s still everyone’s precious hero. And that’s your man’s progression. But more importantly, I will tell you this much: it was that day on October 24th 2020 where Hughie Freeman was not only granted his freedom, not only the winner of the LSD championship, but that was the night your man Hughie Freeman quit….. playing.
No more Uncle Sam’s Devil Island, no more seducing whales, no more knocking dossers out in a separate playground, and no more accepting trivial punishments. Cos your man is not the man that simply moves with the punches. Naw lass, I’m far from your stereotypical Pikey Fuck. I tried to play the game but look where that got me.. a multiplayer game with Conor Fucking Fuse. Your man quit cos there wasn’t a gimmick big enough to destroy this traveller’s journey north. Up there in the big leagues and not slugging it out in a fun house created by Lee Best.
JOHN (O. S): Shite-ing in their open mouths, me.
The voice of John filtering through into the promo that has little-to-no-relevance.
HUGHIE (V. O): Without The PC bumming brigade wanting to tarnish your man’s name.. Andy Murray, wherever you are: cover your ears. Lee Best is deeply blind and your man Hughie Freeman is cushty about that. Truly great, not a fucking problem. All my best wishes to that bastard.
Aye, and although your man desperately needs to be seen like his whole career depends on it.. all this Pikey Fuck can do now is simply guide him. Lee, link your man’s arm and lemme take you to a world of pure imagination. Imagine: Sweet Caroline in your perfect eardrums, chocolate jaws getting smashed, and the best golden ticket known to man (The LSD belt) being successfully defended at Refueled XVLI. The game.. no thank-you. But you cannot deny your man his place among the elite. His crack at the big time, cos I’m a Free-Man to do whatever the fuck I like.
But that’s if your man gave two fucks about what Lee Best thinks of Hughie Freeman. I don’t care what you think, Solex thinks, StarrSek thinks, or Doctor Zebavier thinks. But when you enter my business and start bumping into everything then Hughie Freeman starts to really give a shit. You bump into me and my business then it’s shite on my doorstep that your man needs to shovel. Be the president of the whole world for all I care; you rule everybody and everything.. but not The LSD Proud Fighting Champion.
JOHN: Absolutely fucking shite, man. There’s nothing more to it.
A quick interjection from John there, who remains clueless at Hughie’s lack of indulgence.
Hughie (V. O) : But this is where the promo breaks down. There won’t be any catchphrase to cement this as some popular known Hughie Freeman art. You ain’t whoring this shit on HOtv. And fuck.. if a bear gets a whiff of this fish then they won’t be some comical climax where your man lays Yogi out with one fatal crack. Cos what you think you know about Hughie Freeman.. you ain’t got a fucking Scooby Doo. You think and want me to remove all of my clothes and leather myself up in peanut butter; raging for a fight with the biggest predators out here.. but your man won’t. Cos my unexpected is expected for HOW, and you’re not getting another thing from me. Besides, your man is saving that for.. her. She doesn’t just get the skin-on-skin action, how’s your father treatment.. she gets the same treatment everyone gets. Cos it’s only fair. Your man is not blind to see what I have here. It’s special, and it’s worth the fight.
With all due respect, Lyndz.. your man is excited. We get to do this bastard all over again, but this time without the political bullshit and blind ignorance. They cannot ignore us having the match that is worthy to headline any pay-per-view across the board here in HOW. They can turn blind eyes all they want, try to shit on it, and draw a big fat meaty cock on it. But don’t look.. listen. It’s the sound of changing winds and no cunt has farted; ultimately following through. It’s the truth your man speaks and you need to invest your ears around this bad-boy. Plug your drums into the sound of great fighting culture with every bit of respect in the world. Cos that’s what whispers into my grooves on the side of your man’s head, mate.
But do your man a favor, pet. Let’s not leave it late this time. I know you girls like to keep a man waiting. But eleven fifty nine? You’re fucking teasing me. By that time I’d already would have had the three s’s: shit, shower and a shave. Your man will be smelling great and looking sexy. Cos this means a lot to me. Being in the ring with a stud like you, missy.. is making my whole world spin. And in the word’s of Neil Diamond himself, just like how he’ll be singing me out at Refueled XLVI: touching hands. Once it’s over, my love.. I wonna reach out and touch your hand. Cos respecting you goes hand-in-hand and nothing will ever change that. Not old cod-eyes and his pretty dog too. Nothing will stop us having a good old fashioned dust up my love.
You’ve fought with the top five ranked most of your HOW career.. now fight me. Let us go fucking crazy on one another cos its what the fans want. They don’t want car crash tele like they saw at the end of Refueled XLV. They wonna see two of the best athletes on this planet go toe-to-toe and chest-to-chest in the art of love and war. They’ll be expecting the Thy Kingdom Come, but out of fucking nowhere.. you’ll be sadly just another floating fatality. Maybe then my girl.. you’ll get to fly with those fairies and know what progression is really all about.
But something your man can’t quit is fighting. And even if your man wanted to.. I’d be right back at the starting block with fists clenched. I’m a fighter and it’s not something your man can turn off. And the only time you will see me quit the fight game is when you dig my grave next to Max’s and burry me with my fucking dignity. It’ll not happen.. not a cat in hells chance. Your man did not quit Uncle Sam just like I won’t quit you Lyndsey Troy.
Nothing fucking fishy.. you got your man’s word.
Just eyes on the fucking prize.
John Freeman then suddenly waddles into shot as the visual widens; pants down to his ankles.
JOHN: I’ll shite right fucking now!