Snatch movie

Dialogues and Scenario for  Snatch movie

My name is Turkish.

Funny name for an Englishman,

I know.

My parents to be were on the same plane

when it crashed. That's how they met.

They named me after

the name of the plane.

Not many people are

named after a plane crash.

That's Tommy.

He tells people

he was named after a gun.

But I know he was really named after

a famous 19th century ballet dancer.

Known him for as long as I can

remember. He's my partner.

Doesn't mean we hold hands

or take walks.

What it really means is I try to keep him

out of as much trouble as he inflicts on me.

I give him a hard time.

Keeps him in check.

But really, he's like my brother.

What do I know about diamonds?

I'm a boxing promoter.

I was a happy boxing promoter

until a week ago, and then...

What do I know about diamonds?

Don't they come from Antwerp?

Himy, would you listen to this?

Do we have a choice?

A lot of it wasn't

meant to be taken literally.

It's a nice story, Adam and Eve.

It's bound with moral fiber,

but asking a grown man

to believe it?

What is it?

Well, what is it?

What you want I should do,

drop my pants?

Okay, go through.

It's a nice story.

It's just that. Just a story.

Catholic religion is based

on a mistranslation.

Enough already. Ruben,

will you say something?

Listen to this. Are you

busy? I'll tell you the whole story.

The Septuagint scholars mistranslated

the Hebrew word for "young woman"

into the Greek word

for "virgin".

It was an easy mistake

to make

because there was only a subtle

difference in the spelling.

So, they came up

with a prophecy:

"Behold, the virgin shall

conceive and bear us a son."

You understand this? It was the word

"virgin" that caught people's attention.

It's not every day a virgin

conceives and bears a son.

But leave that for a

couple of hundred years to stew

and next thing you know you have

the Holy Catholic Church.

Oy vay, what are you saying?

I'm saying, just

because it's written

doesn't make it so.

Gives them hope. It's not really

important whether it's fact or fiction.

People like to believe.

I don't want to hear any more.

Anyway, who is it

that we're seeing?

- Michael.

- Hello?

Mutti.

Rudy! Rud, Rud,

let them in, please.

Rud, it's okay,

let them through.

- Michael.

- Mutti.

You have kept us waiting for half an

hour. Are you trying to give me heartburn?

Mutti. Mutti?

Lie down on the floor.

Get on the floor!

Lie on the floor!

Get on the fucking floor!

Get down!

Get fucking down!

Down on the floor! Get down!

On the ground!

Get down, I say!

- Time.

- Seven minutes!

Where is the stone?

Where is the stone?

Where is the stone?

Michael, where is the stone?

When does

your plane leave?

Twenty minutes.

Give me your gun.

When you get to London,

if you want a gun,

call this number.

- Boris.

- Boris.

He can get you anything

you need.

Is he allowed

to do that?

It's an unlicensed boxing match.

It's not a tickling competition.

These lads are out

to hurt each other.

What's happening with

those sausages, Charlie?

Two minutes, Turkish.

Look at it. How am I supposed

to run this thing from that?

We're gonna need

a proper office.

I want a new one, Tommy.

You're going to buy it for me.

Why me?

Well, you know

about caravans.

How's that?

You spent a summer in one. Which

means you know more than me.

And I don't want to have me

pants pulled down over the price.

What's wrong with this one?

Oh, nothing, Tommy.

It's tiptop.

It's just I'm not sure

about the color.

It's all arranged.

You just got to pick it up.

Here's an address.

It's a campsite.

You've got 10 grand, and it

would be nice to see change.

What's happening with

them sausages, Charlie?

Five minutes, Turkish.

It was two minutes

five minutes ago.

They ain't pikeys,

are they?

I fucking hate pikeys.

You're a sensitive boy,

Tommy.

Fuck me. Hold tight.

What's that?

It's me belt, Turkish.

No, Tommy. There's a gun

in your trousers.

What's a gun doing in your trousers?

It's for protection.

Protection from what?

"Zee" Germans?

What's to stop it blowing your

bollocks off every time you sit down?

Where did you get it?

Boris The Blade.

You mean Boris the sneaky,

fucking Russian.

Heavy, isn't it?

Heavy is good.

Heavy is reliable.

If it doesn't work,

you can always hit him with it.

Boris The Blade,

or Boris The Bullet-Dodger.

As bent as the Soviet sickle and

hard as the hammer that crosses it.

Apparently, it's just impossible

to kill the bastard.

Back to my partner, Tommy.

Tommy runs the other business,

the slot machines,

which keeps rain off our heads

and gloves on Gorgeous' hands.

However, Tommy's a little preoccupied

with protection at present.

All right, I'll take it.

There's a reason for Tommy's

newfound enthusiasm for firearms.

Sooner or later, in the unlicensed boxing

world, you have to deal with that reason:

Brick Top.

If that's not worth a bet,

I don't know what is.

He doesn't look bad, does he?

No, he looks great.

He'll do you proud, governor.

You reckon that's what people

should do for me, Gary? Do me proud?

It's what you deserve,

Mr. Pulford.

Pull your tongue out

of my arsehole, Gary.

Dogs do that.

You're not a dog, are you, Gary?

No. No, I'm not.

However,

you do have all the

characteristics of a dog, Gary.

All except loyalty.

It's rumored that his favorite means

of dispatch involves a stun gun,

a plastic bag, a roll of tape

and a pack of hungry pigs.

You're a ruthless little cunt,

Liam. I'll give you that.

But I got no time

for grouses.

Feed him to the pigs,

Errol.

What the fuck are you

two looking at?

If you got to deal with him, you just

make sure you don't end up owing him.

Because then you're in his debt.

Which means, you're in his pocket.

And once you're in that,

you ain't ever coming out.

I hear he's a good fighter,

so I'll use him.

I'll be doing you a favor, boy.

What he means is,

I'm doing him a favor.

Because everybody knows nobody

takes a dive in my fights. Unlike his.

Here, Errol, I don't think

he likes me.

You don't like me,

do you, boy?

Don't know what you mean.

I do know I can't wait to get

out of here. Fuck me, it stinks.

I like my fights to finish prompt so we

can get out before the authorities find out.

Play your cards right

and I'll sort you out.

You can sort me out

by showing me out.

It's hard to make a living in the

boxing world, so every now and then

you gotta do something that might

not agree with your principles.

Basically, you have to forget

you got any.

Are they Lancashire pigs?

Who the fuck is talking

to you, boy?

Oh, yeah, Tommy.

Brick Top loves Tommy.

Don't let me down.

You don't want to let

me down, do you, boy?

See you ringside.

Boris,

Franky-fucking-Four Fingers

has a diamond the size

of a fist.

I have told you it's in the

briefcase connected to his arm.

I sent him to you

to buy a gun.

What more do you want me

to do, hit him for you?

But don't you hit him either.

Americans can't know

it was Russian.

It will come back to me.

So, what should I do?

Boris, you're my brother,

so think like my brother!

Get somebody else

to steal that stone!

I don't want it getting

back to me.

And don't have him killed.

It will raise suspicion.

So don't use idiots

for the job.

He'll stay in London only for a couple

of days before he goes to New York.

So move quick, okay?

One more thing.

It might help.

He loves to gamble.

Eighty-six karats?

Brilliant cut, beautiful make.

Clean, no fluorescence.

A beautiful stone.

You're a good boy, Franky.

A good boy. And you did a real

good job. Now when do you get back?

I got to move the two-grainers here,

and get a better price. Couple of days.

Talk to my cousin Dougie.

Doug The Head?

Yeah, Doug The Head.

And Franky...

And what?

Stay out of those casinos.

You did a good job, bubbe.

Don't go screwing it up, all right?

I hear you, Avi.

I'll see you, Avi.

Eighty-six karats.

- Where?

- London.

- London?

- London.

- London?

- Yes, London.

You know, fish, chips,

cup of tea,

bad food, worse weather,

Mary-fucking-Poppins. London!

No, Paulie,

that ain't for me.

That's Doug The Head.

Everybody knows Doug The Head.

If it's stones and it's stolen,

he's the man to speak to.

Pretends he's Jewish.

Wishes he was Jewish.

Even tells his family

they're Jewish,

but he's about as Jewish

as he is a fucking monkey.

He thinks it's good for business.

And in the diamond business,

- it is good for business.

- Avi!

He'll be there today.

Take care of him, will you?

Avi, you know

I won't buy schtrops.

He isn't selling schtrops.

Make it smaller.

Who do you take me for?

This is England.

We play by the rules.

Listen to me.

If the stones are kosher,

then I'll buy them, won't I?

Now, if you'll excuse me,

it's my lunchtime. Bye.

What are you doing here?

It's a free country, isn't it?

Well, it ain't

a free shop, is it?

So fuck off.

I want to see you two girls

up in my office.

I just had cousin Avi

on the phone.

- You got to go see him.

- Yeah, Dad. You told us.

- He's a big mucker in New York.

- Yeah, Dad. You told us.

I want to see you two girls

up in my office.

Yeah, Dad. You told us.

The weight is sign of reliability.

I always go for reliability.

I'll take it.

How much do you want for it?

Nothing.

Okay, so what do you

want for it?

I want you to do

something for me.

Hmm.

There is a fight

in couple of days.

What kind of a fight?

Unlicensed boxing.

Aha.

There is a bookies I know

that will take bets.

If you place one

down for me,

we will call it quits.

- Why don't you put it down yourself?

- Well,

there is not too many bookies

that takes those kind of bets.

And I already have an

outstanding debt with the house.

I know something most don't.

So, nu?

What do you know?

It's a campsite, a pikey campsite.

- Ten points.

- What are we doing here?

- We're buying a caravan.

- Off a pack of fucking pikeys?

What's wrong with you?

This will get messy.

Not if you're here.

Oh, you bastard.

I fucking hate pikeys.

That's a flash car, mister.

Not as flash

as your bike, is it?

Who are you looking for?

Mr. O'Neil.

- Want me to get him?

- That's a good lad.

Piss off.

- Are you going to go get him for me?

- Yeah.

- What are you waiting for?

- The five quid you'll pay me.

Fuck off, I'll find him meself.

- Two fifty.

- You can have a quid.

Oh, you're a real

tight fucker, aren't you?

Now, there was a problem

with pikeys, or gypsies.

What're you doing?

Get out of the way, man.

You can't really understand

much of what is being said.

You Tommy?

Come about the caravan?

- Mr. O'Neil.

- Fuck, man. Call me Mickey.

It's not Irish, it's not English.

- How are you?

- Weather's been kind.

It's just, well... It's just Pikey.

Fuck me. Would you

look at the size of him?

How big are you?

- Hey, kids, how big is he?

- Big man, that's for sure.

Hey, Mam, come and look

at the size of this fella.

Bet you box a little, can't you, sir?

You look like a boxer.

Get out of the way, Mickey.

See if they'd like a drink.

I could murder one.

Be no murdering done around

here, I don't mind telling you.

Get your hands out of there.

Cup of tea for the big fella?

Come on.

Don't be silly, Mickey.

Offer the man a proper drink.

You little bugger.

- Is the big fella not coming with us?

- No, he's minding the car.

- What does he think we are, thieves?

- No, nothing like that.

- He just likes looking after cars.

- Good dags. Do you like dags?

- Dags?

- What?

- Yeah, dags.

- Dags. You like dags?

Oh, dogs.

Sure, I like dags.

- I like caravans more.

- You're very welcome.

Now, pikeys are well-known for their

skills of negotiation in business.

It's probably the reason

they talk like they do,

so you can't follow

what's being said.

But if Tommy can get the caravan

for less than the price asked,

on his return

there will be ice cream waiting.

Good dog,

good family.

He'll get a little homesick,

but he'll get over it.

See you later, lads.

See you, boss.

All right, Mickey. Laters.

I don't see what

the fuss is about.

They aren't bad fellas.

The deal was, you bought it

how you saw it.

Now look, I've helped you as

much as I'm going to help you.

See that car?

I suggest you use it.

You should fuck off now while you

still got the legs to carry you.

- Nobody-

- Nobody brings you

unless they're trying to say

something without talking, right, boy?

Sorry, Mickey, just give our money

back and you can keep your caravan.

Why the fuck do I want a caravan

that's got no fucking wheels?

- You want to settle this with a fight?

- Over my dead body.

Now, go on! Go on!

I'll not have you fighting! You

know what happens when you fight!

Get her to sit down.

For fuck's sake!

Want the money?

I ain't fucked you.

I'll fight you for it.

You and me.

So that's the kind

of fight it'll be.

You want to stay down.

You want to stay down!

Get back down

and fucking stay down.

I promise you,

you want to stay down.

Deadly kick for a fat fucker,

you know that?

Cheeky bastard.

- Okay, lads.

- Get him on his feet.

Get back down.

or you will not be coming up

next time.

Bollocks to you.

This is sick. I'm out of here.

You're not going anywhere,

you thick lump.

You stay until the job's done.

It turned out that the sweet-talking,

tattoo-sporting pikey

was a gypsy bare-knuckle

boxing champion.

Which makes him harder

than a coffin nail.

Right now that's the last thing

on Tommy's mind.

If Gorgeous doesn't wake up

in the next few minutes,

Tommy knows he'll be

buried with him.

Why would the gypsies

want to go to the trouble to explain

why a man died in their campsite?

Not when they can bury the pair

of them and just move camp.

It's not like they got

social security numbers, is it?

Tommy, "The Tit",

is praying.

And if he isn't,

he fucking should be.

Bad Boy.

- Sol.

- Easy.

No, it's a moissanite.

A what-anight?

A moissanite is an artificial

diamond, Lincoln.

It's Mickey Mouse, mate.

Spurious.

Not genuine.

And it's worth

fuck-all.

Bad Boy, I keep telling you,

stick to being a gangster.

Leave this game to me

and Sol.

Laters.

What is that, Vince?

This is a dog, Sol.

You are not bringing

that thing in here.

What's your problem?

It's only a fucking dog.

- Where'd you get it?

- The gyppos.

Here.

They threw it in

with a load of moody gold.

You know gyppos, Sol. They're

always throwing dogs in with deals.

Well, it better not

be dangerous.

And what do you think

you're doing now?

I want him to get used

to the shop, don't I?

Stop the dog!

Come back here!

All right, Boris?

- Don't worry about the dog.

- I'm not.

What can I do for you, Boris?

I have a job for you.

I already have a job.

Fifty grand

for half a day's work.

Go on.

I want you to hold up a bookies.

Ah... From Russia

with love, eh?

I have stones to sell,

fat to chew and many different men

to see about many different ducks,

so if I am not rushing you...

Slow down, Franky, my son.

When in Rome.

I am not in Rome, Doug.

I am in a rush.

I got to make the bookies.

Bookies?

- What are you betting on?

- Bomber Harris.

The unlicensed boxer, right?

Do you know something

that I don't?

Bubbe, I probably know

a lot you don't.

He's bad to the bone,

ain't you, Tyrone?

Of course I am.

Tyrone will drive for us. He's

done a rally driving course.

Of course I have.

I don't want that dog

dribbling on my seats.

Your seats?

Tyrone, this is a stolen car,

mate.

While I'm at the

wheel, it's my car,

so stop that dog dribbling

on my seats. All right?

- I can't believe you found it.

- Where'd it go?

It went straight back

to the gyppos.

Oh, shut up.

And how could it find them?

Well, I don't know.

I'm not a dog, Sol.

Ask him.

It's like he's a fucking

homing beacon or something.

Steady on the brakes.

Fuck me, I thought you

said he could drive, Sol.

Listen, don't worry about me. Just

worry about that dog on my seats.

All right?

- Hey.

- What?

I thought you said he was a getaway

driver. What the fuck can he get away from?

Don't worry about Tyrone.

He can move when he has to.

Just worry about getting us

a gun, yeah?

Yeah?

What's that?

This is a shotgun, Sol.

It's a fucking

anti-aircraft gun, Vincent.

- I want to raise pulses, don't I?

- You'll raise hell, never mind pulses.

That does not look

like a bookies.

Why'd we stop here for? What's the

matter with that space over there?

It's too tight.

Too tight?

You could land a

jumbo-fucking-jet in there.

Leave him alone. He's a

natural. Ain't you, Tyrone?

Of course I am.

A natural fucking idiot.

Tyrone, what've you done?

Yeah, Tyrone,

what have you done?

Look, you hassle me,

you see what happens.

It's all right.

No, don't move it now.

People'll see the damage.

Why'd you do that?

I didn't see it there.

It's a four-ton truck, Tyrone. It's not

like it's a packet of fucking peanuts, is it?

It was at a funny angle.

It's behind you,

Tyrone.

Whenever you reverse,

things come from behind you.

Control that dog

as well.

Get that dog off him.

Get it off me.

Give me that squeaky toy.

It shut him up last time.

Don't snatch.

He can't swallow

the whole ball.

Yeah.

Why the fuck

did you put Gorgeous George

into a bare-knuckle boxing match

two days before

he had to fight The Bomber?

- He was half his size.

- I didn't expect him to get hurt.

You put the man into

a bare-knuckle boxing match.

What the fuck

did you expect?

A grease-down

and a shiatsu?

Who took the jam

out of your doughnut?

You took the fucking jam

out of my doughnut, Tommy.

You did.

You said get a good deal.

I fail to recognize

the correlation

between losing 10 grand,

hospitalizing Gorgeous,

and a good deal.

How're we gonna explain this

to Brick Top?

That his fight isn't gonna happen?

We replace the fighter.

Oh, and hope he

doesn't notice?

And who the fuck are we gonna

replace him with?

What about John The Gun?

Or Mad Fist Willy?

You're not Mr. Current Affairs,

are you, Tommy?

Mad Fist went mad,

and The Gun shot himself.

Jesus.

- What?

- Let's use the fucking pikey.

- How much you gonna pay us?

- 10k.

Me bollocks. Lose more than

that running for the bus.

All right.

I'll do it for a caravan.

A what?

A caravan.

- Top of the range and all that.

- It was us that wanted a caravan.

Anyway, what's wrong

with this one?

It's not for me.

It's for me ma.

Your what?

His ma.

Brick Top runs an illegal bookies.

They take bets on anything

that involves blood and pain.

Now I'm changing fighters,

and Brick Top's gonna

exploit the situation.

He's gonna pull my pants down,

grease me up,

and aim for penetration.

If I didn't have

the replacement pikey,

he'd want to split me in half.

They could charm the paint

off walls, these fellas.

Look mean now,

you hairy fucker, won't you?

Shits himself when

you put him in the ring.

Poke him with a stick,

you watch his bollocks grow.

Do you like a dog fight,

Turkish?

We've lost Gorgeous George.

Shh...

You're gonna have

to repeat that.

We've lost Gorgeous George.

Well, where'd you lose him?

He ain't a set

of fucking car keys, is he?

And it's not as if he's

incon-fucking-spicuous, now is it?

We're not backing out.

You bet your bollocks to a barn

dance you're not backing out.

We're changing the fighter.

Oh, fuck me, your lady

friend got a voice?

And who might you be changing

him to, sweethearts?

You won't know him,

but he's mustard.

Mustard?

I don't care if he's

Muhammad "I'm Hard" Bruce Lee,

you can't change fighters.

- Look, you've still got your fight.

- No.

I lose all bets at the bookies. You

can't change fighters at the last minute.

So, no, I don't have my fight,

do I, you fucking prat?

You can take bets

at the fight.

Put a lead on her, Turkish,

before she gets bitten.

And you don't want to get

bitten, now do you, sweethearts?

Make sure your man

goes down in the fourth.

You understand me now,

don't you, Turkish?

This is the one place

I didn't want to be.

In his debt.

Which now means

I'm in his pocket.

You're on thin fucking ice,

my pedigree chums.

And I shall be under it

when it breaks.

Now, fuck off.

Doug, where's Franky Four Fingers?

I don't know, Avi. I'm not his mother.

But I'm seeing him later.

- When later?

- Well, he said he wanted cash.

So he's coming back

after he's been to a fight.

A fight?

What do you mean? What do you

mean, a fight? A boxing match?

- Is there gambling involved?

- It's a boxing match, Avi.

- Did he have a case with him?

- Yes, he had a case.

And this schmuck is gambling?

You're talking about Franky "I've got a

problem with gambling" Four Fingers, Doug.

Avi, I'm not telepathic.

Well, you're plenty fucking

stupid, I'll give you that.

Do you have any idea why they

call him Franky Four Fingers?

No, I have no idea.

Well, because he makes stupid

bets with dangerous people.

And when he doesn't pay up,

they give him the chop, Doug.

And I'm not talking about

his fucking foreskin either.

Avi, I'm sure he can pay.

Not with my goods, he isn't. You got

a toothbrush? We're going to London.

Do you hear that?

I'm coming to London!

- Avi!

- Shut up and sit down, you bald fuck!

I don't like leaving

my own country, Doug,

and I especially don't like leaving it

for anything less than warm, sandy beaches

and cocktails

with little straw hats.

We've got sandy beaches.

So who the fuck

wants to see them?

I hope that you can appreciate the

concern I have for my friend Franky.

I'm gonna find him, Doug, and

you're gonna help me find him.

And we're gonna start

at that fight.

How am I gonna

get it out?

It will probably

cough it up.

Do you think he'll

be all right?

I hope not.

Look, are we gonna rob this bookies?

Yes, big man.

What are we waiting

for anyway?

We are waiting for a man with

four fingers, carrying a briefcase.

And why's that?

Because the deal is, the Russian

gets the case, we get the money.

What's in the case?

Oh, for fuck's sake, Tyrone, just

concentrate on the steering wheel.

Jesus.

- Private night tonight, chaps.

- I'm well aware of that, my son.

That's why we're here.

Well done.

This is the back way in.

Oh, really?

I thought it was the front.

Private night tonight,

chaps.

We know. That's exactly

why we're here.

Tickets.

Are we ever gonna get

into this place, huh?

Avi, Avi,

you gotta understand.

This ain't exactly Vegas,

and this ain't exactly legal.

I'm not looking for Vegas,

and I'm not looking for legal.

I'm looking for

Franky-fucking-Four Fingers.

I know that, and he

said he's gonna be here.

Well, if there's gambling

involved, he'll be here.

Let's not have a fuck-up.

You won't let us down,

will you?

He's going down in the fourth,

don't you worry about that. Peter.

Oh, is that him?

I don't know. How many

fingers did he have?

I'm sorry, I didn't get

the binoculars out in time.

Look, let's not stand on ceremony,

mate. Let's start the show.

Do you know who

this bookies belongs to?

Look, if you know what's good

for you you'll give me everything-

Ah!

Vince, what are you

doing up there?

What does it look

like I'm doing up here?

This is starting to hurt,

Solomon.

Drop the screen now.

How you doing, Vince?

I'd do a lot better if

you'd stop using my name.

- Fill that bag.

- All bets are off.

I am not in here

to make a fucking bet.

Appreciate it,

but all bets

are

off.

If all bets are off, then there

can't be any money, can there?

I ain't fucking buying that.

Well, that's handy because I ain't

fucking selling it. It's a fact.

What have you got?

Nothing, really.

A few coins, but no notes.

Show me your hands.

You've got five fingers.

Copper coins.

What do you mean,

copper fucking coins?

It won't open because

it's a security door.

Hold that.

Ah!

Fuck.

My leg.

What are you moaning about?

It didn't even touch it.

We're fucked.

What the fuck are

you two doing?

Get us out of here, Tyrone.

Tyrone, what are you doing?

Get us out of here!

Who the fuck

is this man, Tyrone?

He's a man with four fingers

and a briefcase, Vinny.

In the red corner

we have the young

and unchallenged...

So, Mickey, you're going down

in the fourth. Is that clear?

Just make sure he doesn't

kill me before the fourth.

So give it up

for the bone-crunching

one-punch machine gun,

Mickey!

And in the other corner...

Now, I know he looks

like a fat fucker-

Well, he is a fat fucker, but

he's dirty and he's dangerous.

Bomber "The Mad Man" Harris!

Now, try and look

like a fighter.

Let's get ready

to rumble!

Do you realize I've just dumped

fucking forty grand down you?

What's the fucking crack?

- I'll make it up to you.

- I ain't fucking happy.

I'll make it up to you,

I promise. Stand on me.

Oh, that fucking pikey's

put me in it.

Well, thanks for the tip,

Brick Top.

Listen, you fucking fringe,

if I throw a dog a bone,

I don't want to know

if it tastes good.

You stop me again whilst I'm walking

and I'll cut your fucking jacobs off.

Ah!

- He's here.

- Well, you explain it to him.

- What you doing with him?

- The case was attached to his arm.

So why didn't you

chop it off?

- Why?

- We ain't fucking butchers, Boris.

But he has the case.

Look, we, well, you have a problem.

What?

There weren't much cash

at the bookies.

Oh. Okay.

Here is the 10 grand.

No. Keep it.

We want this.

Well, at least

half of this.

What was

in the case was mine.

What was in the bookies

was yours. Okay?

Well, it wasn't much, but here is

the 10 large to help the situation.

No, I'm afraid

it's too late for that.

We want half of this, and that's

because we're being generous.

I mean, we could, by all rights,

keep the whole fucking stone, Boris.

Watch out!

Drop the gun, fat boy.

You fucking idiots. He

could not know my name.

Give me the stone.

- It's in the case.

- What?

It's in the case.

You put the stone in the case?

Then open it

and give me the stone.

The only man who knew the

combination, you just shot.

Now, it's not too clever to hang

about after Mickey's performance.

Brick Top, in short, will be looking

to kill Tommy, Mickey and myself.

I know he's looking for us,

but I don't have a choice.

I'm happy to leave the country,

but I need money to do so.

But any money I have is in the safe,

which is in the office.

Once I have that, it's-

Oink, oink.

Shit.

So that's where

you keep the sugar.

What brings you two here?

Run out of pants to sniff?

That sounds like hostility,

doesn't it, John?

And we don't like hostility,

do we, Errol?

No, we don't, John.

Hey.

I just had them polished.

Go and put the kettle on.

- You take sugar?

- No, thank you, Turkish.

I'm sweet enough.

He is now your problem.

Okay?

You can keep the 10 grand,

along with the body,

but if I see you again,

you motherfuckers...

Well, look at him.

I've got a bare-knuckle fight

in a couple of days.

I want to use the pikey.

All right. Of course.

Of course, fucking of course.

I wasn't asking, I was telling.

But this time...

I do want him to go down

in the fourth.

And I do mean it, this time.

Now, I know you come

back here to open your safe.

So now you can open it.

He's been a busy

little bastard, that Turkish.

I think you've let him get away

with enough already, governor.

It can get you in a lot of trouble,

thinking, Errol. I shouldn't do so much of it.

Right. That takes

care of one little piggy.

Now find me the silly sods

who blagged the bookies.

Find them today.

Top of the morning

to you, Mrs. O'Neil.

Tommy.

You're a snake in the grass, ain't

you, Tommy? Where'd they come from?

You're looking for

my boy, are you?

Do you know

where I can find him?

Yeah.

Don't suppose you'd like to share

that information with me, would you?

I don't want you getting my boy

into any trouble. Do you hear me?

He's my only boy.

And he's a good boy.

He's coursing.

- What's coursing?

- Hare coursing.

They set two lurchers-

They're dogs, before you ask.

On a hare.

And the hare has

to outrun the dogs.

So, what if it doesn't?

Well, the big rabbit

gets fucked, doesn't it?

Proper fucked?

Yeah, Tommy.

Before "zee"

Germans get there.

Do you know these tits, Errol?

I know a lot of tits, governor...

but I don't know any quite as

fucking stupid as these two.

John?

I can't help, guv.

Ah, Tyrone.

You silly, fat bastard.

Well, do you want to do it?

- That depends.

- On what?

On you buying

this caravan.

Ah, not the rouge one.

The rose.

- It's not the same caravan.

- It's not the same fight.

It's twice the size

of the last one.

Turkish, the fight

is twice the size.

And me ma still

needs a caravan.

And I like to look after me

ma. It's a fair deal. Take it.

Mickey, you're lucky we aren't worm

food after your last performance.

Buying a tart's mobile palace

is a little fucking rich.

I wasn't calling your mum a tart.

I just meant...

Eh, save your breath

for cooling your porridge.

Now look, she wants

a hack with two roof lights...

Right. And she's terrible partial

to the periwinkle blue, boys.

Have I made myself

clear, boys?

Yeah, that's perfectly

clear, Mickey. Yeah.

Just give me one minute

to confer with my colleague.

Did you understand a single

word of what he just said?

I'll tell you what

I'm gonna do.

Fucker.

I'll bet you for it.

- You'll what?

- He'll bet you for it.

What, like Tommy did last time?

Do me a favor?

I'll do you a favor.

You have first bet.

If I win, I get a caravan,

and the boys get

a pair of them shoes.

If I lose...

oh, fuck it,

I'll do the fight for free.

Now the last thing I really

want to do is bet a pikey.

However, I don't really

have much of a choice.

Somehow I've got to get

him to fight, but if I lose...

Well, I don't even want

to think about losing.

Okay. I reckon

the hare gets fucked.

What? Proper fucked?

You got that, London?

We're on!

Okay, I'll fucking tell you!

Get those off me.

I'll tell you

who robbed your bookies.

Periwinkle blue.

Bye, boys.

Who's proper

fucked now, then?

There's something

very wrong with this.

It was us that wanted

to buy a caravan off of him.

Well, why didn't you "bust a

cap in his ass" then, Tommy?

Mind you, you'd do more

damage if you threw it at him.

What? You saying

I can't shoot?

Oh, no, Tommy. I wasn't

saying you can't shoot.

I know you can't shoot.

What I was saying is, that six-pound

piece of shit stuck in your trousers there

would do more damage

if you fed it to him.

You saying the

gun don't work?

You tried it?

Whoops.

I want to see that

sneaky fucking Russian.

What has he got a tea

cozy on his head for?

To keep his head warm.

- What happened to him?

- He got shot in the face, Lincoln.

I thought that was obvious.

What'd you do that for? Did

you mistake him for a rabbit?

- What do you want me to do about it?

- Sort it out.

- I'm not a fucking witch doctor.

- But you are a bad boy yardie.

And bad boy yardies are supposed

to know how to get rid of bodies.

I create the bodies,

I don't erase the bodies.

Looks like

we're in, governor.

Goody gumdrops.

Get us a cup of tea,

would you, Errol?

Grab hold of his legs.

What do you think I'm gonna

grab him by, his fucking ears?

Hope this is not

a bad moment.

Do you know who I am?

I do.

Good. That will save me

some time, then.

Well, I don't.

You're always gonna have problems

lifting a body in one piece.

Apparently, the best thing to do

is cut up a corpse into six pieces

and pile it all together.

Would someone

mind telling me,

who are you?

And when you got your six

pieces, you gotta get rid of them

because it's no good leaving it in the deep

freeze for your mum to discover, now is it?

Then I hear the best thing

to do is feed them to pigs.

You gotta starve the pigs

for a few days,

then the sight of a chopped-up body

will look like curry to a pisshead.

You gotta shave

the heads of your victims

and pull the teeth out

for the sake of the

piggies' digestion.

You could do this afterwards,

of course,

but you don't want to sieving

through pigshit, now do you?

They will go

through bone like butter.

You need at least 16 pigs to

finish the job in one sitting,

so be wary of any man

who keeps a pig farm.

They will go through a body

that weighs 200 pounds

in about eight minutes.

That means that a single pig

can consume two pounds

of uncooked flesh

every minute.

Hence the expression

"as greedy as a pig"

Well, thank you for that.

That's a great weight off me mind.

Now I mean, if you wouldn't mind

telling me who the fuck you are,

apart from someone who feeds

people to pigs, of course.

Do you know what

"nemesis" means?

"A righteous infliction

of retribution

manifested by an

appropriate agent."

Personified, in this case,

by a horrible cunt.

Me.

Gentlemen...

Why can't you find

me Franky, Doug?

Avi, what do you want me to

do? I'm not a bounty hunter.

What about Tony?

You know, Bullet-Tooth Tony.

- Who's Bullet-Tooth-...?

- Tony!

You silly fuck.

He's a liability.

He'll find you Moses and the

burning bush if you pay him to.

You are gonna die, Tony!

He got shot six times,

had the bullets molded into gold.

I shoot you, you go down!

Yeah, he's got two in his teeth that

Dad did for him, so he loves Dad.

Why don't you fucking die?

He's the best chance

you got of finding Franky.

Six times?

In one sitting.

You're in trouble now.

Well, that sounds promising.

What are we waiting for?

Bonjour.

What have you got to tell me

that's so fucking important?

Mr. Pulford, why do you

think we've got a dead man

missing an arm in our office?

Talk to me, tell me.

Four days.

You give us four days

and I will get you a stone the size

of a fucking home. I kid you not.

What do you think, Errol?

I think we should drip-dry them,

governor, while we got the chance.

It was a rhetorical

question, Errol.

What have I told

you about thinking?

- You got 48 hours.

- Yeah.

You can keep that silly, fat

wanker. The lads can't lift him.

Forty-eight hours.

After that it's your family

and the pigs finish

what the dogs don't do.

So, what should I call you? Should

I call you, uh, "Bullet", "Tooth"?

You can call me "Susan"

if it makes you happy.

Tony, there is a man

I'd like you to find.

That depends on all the elements

in the equation. How many are there?

Forty thousand.

Where was he last seen?

At a bookies.

Bookies?

Pass us the blower, Susi.

- The bookies got blagged last night.

- Blagged?

Speak English to me, Tony.

I thought this country

spawned the fucking language,

and so far, nobody

seems to speak it.

Blagged, robbed.

We're gonna go and see a man that

looks like he might know something.

I need a gun.

You don't, Rosebud, me

old son. You need me.

I got fucking black ink

all over fuck boy, mate.

He's stained for fucking life.

Okay, that and the golden teeth as well.

Fucking hell, mate. You should have seen it-

All right, Mullet?

How you doing, Tony?

You all right, mate?

Oh, nice tie.

I heard you weren't about

that much these days, Tone.

What do you know? Still warm, the

blood that courses through my veins.

Unlike yours, Mullet.

I wanna know who blagged

Brick Top's bookies.

- Do me a favor, Tone.

- I will do you a favor, Mullet.

I'll not bash the living fuck out of you

in front of all your girlfriends here.

Gonna make it worth my while, mate?

Jesus, Tone, you know how it is, man.

Comfortable, Mullet?

Seems sadly ironic, it's that tie

that's got you into this pickle.

Now, you take all

the time you want, mate.

What the fuck

you doing, Tone?

Driving down the street with

your head stuck in my window.

What you think

I'm doing, you penis?

Well, don't, Tone.

You been using dog shit

for toothpaste?

Slow down, Tone.

Slow down, Tony!

I don't think so.

I think I'll speed up.

Play some music if you like.

Oh, I love this track.

I want to know who blagged

Brick Top's bookies.

Yes, Mullet?

I think it's two black guys that work

from a... In a pawnshop in Smith Street.

Better not be telling

me porky pies.

I'm fucking tell you, it's two black guys

work out of a pawnshop on Smith Street.

It's very effective, Tony.

It's not too subtle,

but effective.

Are we taking him with us?

It's the Russian.

A Russian?

Well, to be technical he's

an Uzbekistanian, but...

Uzbekistanian? I've been dealing

with those sneaky Russian dogs.

Give me a name.

Yurinov.

Boris.

- Boris The Blade?

- Yeah.

As in Boris

The Bullet-Dodger?

Why do they call him

The Bullet-Dodger?

Because he

dodges bullets, Avi.

He won't fight unless

we buy his mum a caravan,

and you nicked all our savings.

In the quiet words of the

Virgin Mary, come again?

He's a stubborn bastard. He said

he's got to look after his mum.

- Are you taking the piss?

- What can I do?

I can't make him do it, can I?

You're not much good

to me alive are you, Turkish?

He's a useless shite, that boy.

Punish him for me, Errol.

I want that pikey to fight.

Brick Top thought

smashing up our arcade

might help me

to persuade Mickey to fight.

And if that wasn't enough,

he thought it would be

a good idea

to burn Mickey's mum's caravan.

While she was asleep in it.

Turkish, get your arse up.

You lot,

follow me and I'll

fucking shoot you.

Calm down, son.

Behave yourself.

I've got the gun, son. I think

it's you who should behave.

What?

You want to see

if I've got the minerals?

Jesus.

Sorry, Mickey.

Did you do it?

Then what are you sorry for?

What the fuck

are you still doing here?

Darren, come back!

- You got some tars on you.

- Fuck off, Darren.

- Fuck off!

- Darren!

How silly do I feel?

His mum is still smoking

next to us,

and I'm asking him to fight.

I'll do the fight before he

causes any more carnage.

And if he'd said no,

it could've been

a shite sight worse.

Russians.

Russians.

I should've known.

Anti-Semite,

slippery Cossack sluts.

What do you know

about this goyim?

Ex-KGB cancer.

He was a highly trained

undercover agent.

He'll be impossible

to track down.

Yeah.

There's a strange man who

wants to sell us an 84-karat stone.

- Where does he come from?

- I don't know. Hard to tell.

He's got a thick Russian accent.

Well, what was I supposed to do?

He set the dogs on me. Look.

That sneaky fucking Russian!

No wonder he didn't want to do it.

First things first. One of us...

Tyrone, you get around to the Russian's.

The second you see him, you give us a call.

Now.

He's a right handful,

this fella, so watch out.

I hate Russians.

I'll take care of him.

He's all yours, Rosebud, old son.

Not a problem.

You're gonna have

to get me to a doctor.

- Shoot that fuck!

- Yeah, yeah.

Then, get me to a doctor.

Okay, yeah, yeah. But first

we get the stone, Rosey.

First the stone. And then

I'll get you to a doctor.

And not just any doctor, boychik. I'm

gonna get you to a nice Jewish doctor.

Find my friend

a nice Jewish doctor!

Get his keys and find out

exactly where the stone is.

I think that you got

something to tell us.

Easy. Take it easy,

Rosebud.

Oi. Do you want him

to be able to talk or not?

What the fuck do

you mean, replicas?

They look the shit, don't they?

And nobody is gonna argue.

And I've got some extra

loud blanks, just in case.

In... Oh, in case we have

to deafen them to death?

- Yeah.

- Boris is here.

We're coming over.

You hold him there.

Hold on!

He's not on his own!

We're off.

Very industrious

for a Cossack.

Sneaky fucking Russian.

So, where is he, Tyrone?

It's not just he. Three

fellas went in the house.

They locked Boris

in the back of the car.

Why didn't you tell us that?

Oi. Did they look hard?

They looked messy.

Hey, come on.

Let's get out of here.

What do you want to do

about the Russian?

I want you to bury him.

All right.

I think we should

get you a new gun.

But this time, try it.

How far to the Russian's?

We'll be there

in a minute.

- Well, come on, then.

- Not so fast, Vinny.

We can't take them now.

We're gonna have to follow them.

You shouldn't drink

that stuff, anyway.

Why? What's wrong with it?

- It's not in sync with evolution.

- Shut up.

How do you wanna

get rid of him?

- Well, do you want to shoot him?

- It's a little noisy, isn't it?

- Well, do you want to stab him?

- Well, it's a little cold-blooded, isn't it?

- Do you want to kill him or not?

- I'll cut him. I got a blade.

There. That's the spirit.

Do they fire?

Of course they fire.

Yeah. But how do you know?

I mean, they're replicas.

What do you know

about replicas?

Whoa!

What the fuck are

you doing, Solomon?

Well, you wanted to know

whether or not they worked.

I didn't mean try it in the car,

Sol, you arsehole!

What are you gonna do

with that, pick his teeth?

Wipe the butter off

and put it away.

Look, there's a proper

blade back there.

Cows have only been domesticated

in the last 8000 years.

Before that, they were running

around as mad as lorries.

The human digestive system hasn't

got used to any dairy products yet.

Well, fuck me, Tommy.

What have you been reading?

Let me do you a favor.

Whoops.

You. Want a knife?

Me? Oh, no, not me. I wouldn't

know what to do with it.

It's a knife, for God's sake.

What have you used to keep

your fork company all these years?

The sharp side, a blunt side.

What do you want, a lesson?

Is that Boris?

Oh, Tyrone,

what have you done?

What about Rosebud?

Well, you can bring him

with you if you like.

But which bit would you like to bring?

- They're getting out.

- Hold on.

Get down

and follow them.

Cover yourself up, Avi.

You're making a scene.

I'm sorry for causing

a scene, Tony.

Whoa, you are not taking

that dog with you, Vince.

Well, I can't leave

him in here, can I?

Pint of the black stuff, landlord.

I thought you wanted to get

cleaned up. Bathroom's back there.

He's left the door open.

Shouldn't think that's a good idea.

Should we go in?

I don't want to go in there.

He's a dangerous bastard.

Taken too many disco biscuits

in the heat of Russian disputations.

He's got as many of these

nuts as he has those nuts.

I don't care if he's

got fucking hazelnuts.

I want a gun that works,

and I'm gonna tell him.

My God, Tommy, you

certainly got those minerals.

Well, come on, then,

before "zee" Germans get here.

You just tell him

who's in charge.

Uh, Boris-

You certainly told him, Tommy.

The Drowning Trout.

Come and pick us up.

And Doug...

sharpish.

I don't want a fuss and I don't

want to put a bullet in your face,

but unless you give me exactly what

I want there will be fucking murders.

What's your name?

Shoot him.

Ooh.

Let go of the gun!

So, you're obviously

the big dick,

and that, on either side

of you, are your balls.

There are two types of balls.

There are big brave balls, and there

are little mincey faggot balls.

These are your last words

so make them a prayer.

Your dicks have drive

and clarity of vision,

but they're not clever.

They smell pussy and they want

a piece of the action.

And you thought you smelled

some good old pussy

and have brought your two

little mincey faggot balls along

for a good old time. But you've

got your parties muddled up.

There's no pussy here,

just a dose that'll make you wish

you were born a woman.

Like a prick,

you're having second thoughts.

You're shrinking.

And your two little balls

are shrinking with you.

And the fact that you've got "Replica"

written down the side of your gun...

and the fact that

I've got Desert Eagle .50...

written on the side of mine...

should precipitate

your balls into shrinking,

along with your presence.

Now...

fuck off.

Lock the door.

Lock it!

Oh!

Give me the case.

Fuck you.

Shoot me.

I will. I'll shoot you.

Pass me case

or I shoot you.

You know what?

Fuck you too.

Go ahead and shoot me. You'd be doing

me a favor, you Russian fuck. Go ahead!

You! Drop guns.

Fuck you!

You drop your gun!

Okay.

Avi...

pull your socks up!

- Tyrone?

- Fuck it. We're out of here.

Give me case.

Avi...

- Where's the case?

- Put the gun away.

What's Boris doing here?

Boris, what are

you doing here?

Fuck you!

Where's the case?

- You piece of crap.

- Don't take the piss, Boris.

I'll show you.

Fuck you!

Almost had it.

For fuck's sake.

Fuck you and all.

You lucky bastard.

Jeez, it's flawless.

Don't get attached to it.

It's going to Brick Top.

Leave the dog here.

- Sol, why don't we just leave?

- Because life's too short, Vincent,

and it'll get a lot fucking shorter

if Brick Top wishes it to be.

- Now leave that dog here.

- I'm gonna leave the dog here.

Don't worry about it!

And if that pikey mutt does

any damage, you're gonna pay.

It's okay.

Sit down. Down.

I don't want to go in there.

You'll never see me again.

Well, we won't if you don't.

All right, you give

me the stone,

and I will give it

to Brick Top. Yeah?

All right. Give me

a minute. It's a bit fiddly.

What is it doing down there?

Well, I put it down there

in case we got mugged.

You ain't from this planet,

are you, Vincent?

Who is gonna mug two

black fellas holding pistols,

sat in a car that's worth less

than your shirt?

Bullet-Tooth Tony and his

friend, Desert Eagle .50.

What have they got to do

with anything?

They're both staring

straight at me.

You should never underestimate

the predictability of stupidity.

Now, out of the car.

And leave your

water pistols behind.

Look, just... just tell him

the stone's back at the office.

I'll think of something.

Why's he sweating, Gorgeous?

Oh, never mind.

Tommy, why is your skin leaking?

- I'm a little worried, actually, Turkish.

- Worried about what?

What happens if the gypsy knocks

the other man out?

I mean, he's done it before,

hasn't he?

We get murdered before

we leave the building,

and I imagine we

get fed to the pigs.

Well, I'm glad to see you're

climbing the walls in fucking anxiety.

Pardon my cynicism,

but I don't exactly trust the pikey.

Don't think I haven't thunk

about that one, Tommy.

It's his mum's funeral tonight.

God bless her.

You know those gypsies

like a drink at a wake.

I'm not worried about whether

Mickey knocks the other man out.

I'm worried about whether Mickey

makes it to the fourth fucking round.

Well, what if he doesn't

make it to the fourth round?

We get murdered before

leaving the building,

and I imagine we get fed

to the pigs.

So why are you so calm?

- I said-

- I heard what you said, Tommy!

It's not as though we've

got a choice, now, is it?

You show me how to control

a wild fucking gypsy

and I'll show you how to control

an unhinged, pig-feeding gangster.

Bollocks!

I'm going for a walk.

Oh, that fucking dog!

Go on, get the dog.

- It's a bit funky in here, isn't it?

- Open a window.

You people

live like animals.

Now, where's the stone?

- Come on, where is it?

- It's over here.

- Where? Where?

- I left it in a box.

It's empty.

I'm getting heartburn.

Tony, do something terrible.

No, I'm being serious!

The dog. The dog

must have ate it.

Now then, let's have a look,

shall we? Tony.

- What?

- Look in the dog.

What do you mean,

"look in the dog"?

I mean, open him up.

It's not a tin of baked beans.

What do you mean, open him up?

You know what I mean.

That's a bit strong, isn't it?

I don't know about this.

No, you can't do this.

It's fucking squeaking!

What's the matter? You never heard a dog

squeak before? Give me that goddamn gun!

I'm shooting the dog!

Shoot the fucking dog!

Look, it's here. It's here.

You sneaky fucking bastard.

Thank God for that.

I hate fucking dogs!

Come on, Tony.

Tony, come on!

Tony?

- Anything to declare?

- Yeah. Don't go to England.

That dog is gonna go

back to the campsite, Sol.

I'm telling

you. It always does.

How's the dog gonna

find the campsite, Vin?

Have you smelled

the campsite, Sol?

All right. But we're gonna

have to wait until it gets light.

And we have to get rid

of these bodies.

That one over there with the tea

cozy on his head's starting to stink.

Right. Let's stick them in the car,

and then go and look for a pig farm.

Mickey.

Oi, Mickey!

You feeling all

right, Mickey?

Need a drink.

You can't give him a drink!

It's not for him.

It's for me.

Ah, mates. Amen.

He's a hard bastard, this Good Night Anderson,

so pay attention to what you're doing.

All right, Mickey?

Mickey!

Need to have a shite!

If you see the pikey, Turkish or

his girlfriend come out before me,

shoot the bastards.

Well, come on.

We got a fight to go to.

All right, Tom.

Hope we're gonna get

a better show this time.

This will make up for it.

Mickey's going

down in the fourth.

Now, Terry over there

is in charge of the bets.

Now, you have

to forgive me.

I'll forgive you

if he goes down this time.

- Are our lads down at the campsite?

- They're over there now, governor.

I fucking hate pikeys.

How long have we gotta stay here?

As long as it takes.

Now, shut up.

Fucking hate pikeys.

Is he fucking stoned?

He's like that

before a fight.

Do you know when

you're going down?

Of course he knows

when he's going down.

Oi, fuck-face, who's speaking

to you? He asked him, didn't he?

Fuck-face?

I like that one, Errol.

I'll remember that next time

I'm climbing off your mum.

- Not now.

- Gonna be a tragedy of a fight.

Be a nice one. Nice one.

Hell of a way to be a war.

And there none of yours.

There's a campsite full of pikeys that

might not think you're so fucking funny.

Not when they're putting out

flames on their children's backs.

Now get up and have

a fucking fight.

Three rounds and you're

a vegetable, aren't you, pikey!

I'm in charge here. No

fucking about, no eye-gouging.

Do your worst.

Let's get it on!

What the fuck's going on?

You gonna finish him or what?

Talk about saved by the bell.

Do you understand the

consequences of what would happen

if you knocked that man out?

Do not knock him out, Mickey.

All right, let's break it up.

What, is he fucking deaf?

What is he doing?

Come on and sit.

What the fuck are

you doing, Mickey?

You're dancing like a fairy.

They'll hang us with the ring

ropes if they think it's rigged.

Get out there and hurt him.

But for fuck's sake,

do not knock him out.

All he's got to do is stay down.

Now, we are fucked.

He can't stand up.

We're out of here.

Stupid pikey knows

Brick Top's got a dozen

keen-to-kill monkeys

with shotguns

sitting outside his campsite.

Once the campsite's wiped out, I

know it's gonna be the same for us.

You ever cross the road

and look the wrong way?

Give me that fucking shooter!

And, hey, presto,

there's a car nearly on you.

So, what do you do?

Something very silly.

You freeze. And your life

doesn't flash before you

because you're too

fucking scared to think.

You just freeze

and pull a stupid face.

But the pikey didn't. Why?

Because he had plans

on running the car over.

It had previously occurred to me

that the gypsy had taken the

demise of his mother rather lightly.

For every action,

there is a reaction.

And a pikey reaction

is quite a fucking thing.

Pete, talk to me.

If you want your friend to hear you,

talk a lot louder than that.

Give me that

fucking shooter.

I'll give you your shooter,

you cunt.

That is when I thought the

pikey had money riding on himself.

That's the reason the bastard never

goes down when he's supposed to.

We've been tucked up...

while he's been cleaning up.

We're worse off now than

when we started.

The next day we went

to the campsite,

but the gypsies had

disappeared during the night.

Which was probably a good thing,

considering they'd just buried

12 people somewhere in the area.

Where is he?

He ain't fucking here,

that's for sure.

We can't ask a man to fight for

us if we can't find him, can we?

You won't find a pikey that doesn't

want to be found, Tommy.

He could be in a campsite

in Kampu-fucking-chea by now.

Bollocks! Come on.

- What you doing here?

- What's it got to do with you?

So, what you doing here?

I'm taking the dog for a walk.

What's the problem?

What's in the car?

Seats and a steering wheel.

What do you know about gypsies?

I know they're

not to be trusted.

All right, get your dog.

On your way.

Get the dog, Tommy.

Aye?

The dog.

All right, boy. Come on.

Come on, Daisy. No, Daisy!

He loves that dog.

Always playing silly games.

Stop messing about, Tommy,

and get it in the car. Tommy!

Good boy. Good boy.

Good boy, Daisy, good boy.

Could you tell me

why you got a dead man with

an arm missing in your boot?

Hey, George,

is that a tea cozy

on his head?

Oh, you love a dog,

don't you, Tommy?

Tommy persuaded

me to keep the dog.

I eventually agreed,

as long as he took it to a vet.

I couldn't stand

that squeaking anymore.

The vet found half an

undigested shoe, a squeaky toy

and an 84-karat diamond

lodged in its stomach.

It's quite amazing what

can happen in a week.

Still didn't shut it up, though.

So, what do you do?

You go see the man that knows

about these sort of things.

So, what do you think?

Do you know anyone

who'd be interested?

I might.