- Event: Refueled XLV
Fights are not won by talking in the press room. They’re won in the ring with fists of fury. People say they’re unbeatable, and one solid smack in the face could mean goodnight Irene for them. It’s those fine margins we tread on as performers. The art to sell a fight becomes bigger than the actual fight itself.
I wasn’t expecting to say anything more on the matter. Truth me told, mate: I’m sick of the sight of Lyndsey Troy’s sexy delicious face. Not cos your man doesn’t appreciate her any less.. but just cos this whole thing is tiresome. Again your man is having to perform like a monkey on cue and try to hoax the audience into buying the event. But this shit is coming out of my workout time. But that’ll not get documented.. that isn’t entertaining enough is it. No one actually wants to see the donkey work that goes into making the LSD Proud Fighting Champion.
But fuck, all of this media work can burn alive. I’ve said what needed to be said and your ruining this like you ruin lives. An actual death took place two weeks ago and the gutter press were there to glamourize it. You’re real pieces of shit you know that? Where you have to parade death around like its The Queens Jubilee. Cos it ain’t just Andy Murray that’ll be spitting feathers over it, believe you me.
This shit is no different. Leave us cats be to train and put on a show. You’ve heard from Hughie Freeman and you’ve heard from Lyndsey Troy. But if I’ve gotta do tours around the world to sell this fight then you can do one. Your man’s job is to set right-handed bombs off.. not be a second hand car salesman. That’s HOW’s job. And if this fight doesn’t sell then Lee Best better put some fresh ink in that pen cos people need sacking.
We get caught up in the selling that the fundamentals of hard fucking work just get left by the wayside. More emphasis on who becomes the best stand up comedian or class clown. It’s sometimes just best to sometimes leave that up to guys like Jatt Starr.
Hughie Freeman versus Lyndsay Troy should sell itself. Without all of the bullshit, and without the gobbing off. One, two, three.. how many interviews do you want? Your man can only say so much about a girl like Lyndsey Troy, who is at the top of her game. And when you over sell it.. the match always fails to deliver. Your talking becomes the main event and the match secondary. And I refuse to sell out to the powers of entertainment. Let the match be for what it is.. Lyndsay Troy versus Hughie Freeman. Plain and simple.. no extra shite needed. Lyndsey thinks she’ll win and your man Hughie thinks he’ll win. Stick that as part of your narrative.
Everything after the first possible contact is filler. We know the date, our weights, and we’ve talked a good game ahead of battle. Everything after that my friend is just playing the same broken record. We know how badly you want it, or what advantages you may have over the other. But let’s face it.. that doesn’t mean anything once the music hits. All the talk, the well studied game plan tactics, and all the self-motivation you wonna give yourself.. It’s bollocks now, mate.
Your man is happy for this thing to be all about respect. Course mate.. that’s how it started. Certainly from your man’s point of view. But I can’t help but think that respect will soon drift away when we come face to face. The drive to be crowned winner over any ounce of respect will go out of the window. And if your man has triggered you over the Lee Best comments then so be it. I’m calling a spade a spade here, with much due respect.
Your relationship with that bloke has given you a rocket up your arse and straight to the stars. That’s not to say you wouldn’t have come out smelling of roses if you’d taken my path. But the guy chose you.. not me, not Zion.. and certainly not Scott Stevens. Cos we know who we are; we’re fucking rats, mate. We don’t deserve the rub like you do. See love.. I’m agreeing with you. It needed to be you. Not fucking me. I’m a scoundrel.. I’m cruel, untrustworthy and a downright bastard. Give me an inch and I’ll take a whole mile. So Lee picked wisely. He picked the perfect sexy pinup to spearhead his success. The company didn’t need Hughie Freeman.. they needed you.
There’s always a risk with Hughie Freeman. I know that.. and certainly Scottywood does. One minute we’re all hunkey dorey and then the next.. I’m burning shit. Your man can’t be trusted with the name of HOW and it’s representation. Are you mad?! Who’s gunna give me the keys? Fuck mate, they’ll give the keys to the guards though and keep me in a dirty smelling hole. But you can’t hang your hat on someone like Hughie Freeman. It’s not always about the right thing.. it’s simply my culture. Your man has no idea why I do certain things.. but I do. I’m no fucking company man, and never will be. I’m the black sheep with a mouthful of fox, mate. And I’ll chew, claw and nut ya right to the top.
Your man ain’t gunna eat thunder and crap lightning. Your man Hughie Freeman is gunna eat Troy and crap Harrison. I’m gunna consume you Lynz cos that’s what your man does. My pressure, my pace.. and it’ll all be on my terms, bonny lass. You’ve fought them all, my love.. but you ain’t fought someone who constantly fights like a caged man. The name goes with the territory but your man fights to stay alive. No glistening gold could ever shadow what is deep in my heart my friend. I fight cos this is what I love to do. To never be tarnished by the gobshites. Your man Hughie Freeman has every faith in you to take care of Jatt Starr who is the perfect version of the trash-talk fighter. Your man might even agree that he’s the king of that world. But know this, love.. I’m done talking. Your man Hughie Freeman will leave that to the experts. The field where matches are won.. I don’t think so.
Hard work, baby.. hard work. That’s what gets you places. That’s what makes a man progress. Aye, I could have been projected into the main event picture early doors but where’s the fun in that? Don’t make a man like me feel privileged cos a man like Hughie will take the ultimate piss. I’ll take liberties every step of the way and not give a flying fuck. Your man needs to care, be passionate.. to actually give the flying fuck. Cos if I don’t.. I’m offending. I’m breaking all of the PC laws, and coming for the protected top five that are wrapped in cotton wool.
Like it or not, Lyndz.. you’ve been protected. And I know you’re a big fighting woman, your man won’t discredit that. But whereas you will want to fight.. the regime wants to protect. They want to protect their assets from problem childs like your man here. Fuck me, if I were to get anywhere close then do you know what fucking trouble that would cause? I say this with a smile on my face, Lyndz. Cos I’m so close I can already smell ya. And it smells fucking beautiful, girl. It’s the smell of competition; without bullshit. And I appreciate you smelling so great cos I’ll get closer to you on the 21st of November my friend. At Refueled XLV.. I’ll put whole new lovely lady lumps on your face. Not cos I’m fucking brutal, but cos you want me too. You want everything I bring to this table and more. You want this fight just as much as I do. You wonna be the woman that puts The Pikey Fuck away for good. And that’s all gravy. Cos I’m gunna progress, whether or not you love me any less.
Not in the burning heart.. The HATEFUL heart, there won’t be No Easy Way Out.. your man controls his own destiny. They’ll be no Sweetest Victory.. but your man Hughie Freeman’s victory. I’m not Living In America.. I’m just the toughest guy at the Cork barbeque working miracles.
All your man can do now is..
Win Hughie… win.