Freddie is a very interesting character and I take metaphors too far. That's about it really.

He's really lost it all this time.

He considers everything he does a sort of a gamble. And with gambling, your luck always has to run out.

He pouts. He whines how unfair it is to the cold walls of his apartment. But you won, they appear to whisper back to him. What are you moaning about, you idiot American? You won.

He tries to explain that he didn't win. He won the match but he lost the girl. It wasn't at all how a typical Hollywood movie goes. And everyone knows that the girl is the one win that really matters.

So you won a game of chess, he tells himself. But it's just a game. You arrogant man, to think that chess is so much more than 64 black and white squares and a king and a queen. You were trapped in a game there that wasn't chess, one that you couldn't win. Your queen was captured. Even if you won the game, you lost the queen.

The queen is what matters to you. Not the game. The queen.

He'd thought it was the fame that mattered, then. But now he found the one rule he'd usually played by to win all of his games was true: protect the queen.

You can lose the match but keep the queen. Or, you can win the match but lose the queen.

He surrounds himself in his own misery. He'd have much preferred to keep his queen.