The entire British Empire was built on cups of tea, and if you think I'm going to war without one, mate you're mistaken.
So, the only thing connecting us to the case, is in the back of your car which is parked outside?!
There's no money, there's no weed. It's all been replaced by a pile of corpses.
They're lacking in a criminal credibility, ain't they? I might get laughed at.
Listen to this one: You open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club. You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop - as a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now this is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club", saying we're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
I'm not sure what's more worrying. The job or your past!
Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry. Once there was this geezer called Smithy Robinson, who worked for Harry. It was rumoured that he was on the take. Harry's invited Smithy round for explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job. Within a minute, Harry's lost his rag. Reached out for the nearest thing at hand which happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock. He's then proceeded to batter poor Smithy to death with it. Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go, hence, Hatchet Harry is the man you pay if you owe.
A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.
Oi! Keep your fingers out of my soup!
You're not funny, Tom. You're fat, and look as though you should be, but you're not.
Guns for a show, knives for a pro
If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kinda pussy to drink it.
If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now do you understand everything I've said? Because if you don't, I'll kill ya. Now, Mr. Bobble-and-Squeek, you may enlighten me.
Get Nick, that greasy wop, shistos, pesevengi, gamouri Greek bastard, if he's stupid enough to still be on this planet.
We're gonna do a proper decoration job. I want the grey skies of London illuminated. I want that house painted red.
If you don't want to be counting the fingers you haven't got, I suggest you get those guns. Quick!
When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop.
Hello boy, feeling a bit poorly? I know your friends are responsible for most of the cash so I'm gonna give you one week to find it. Otherwise I will take a finger of each of you and your friends' hands for everyday that passes without payment. And then when you run out of digits, your dad's bar and who knows what then. All right, my son?
It's been emotional
All right, son: roll them guns up, count the money, and put your seat belt on.
I don't want to know who you use, as long as they're not complete muppets.
Alarm bells are ringing Willy.
You're lucky you're still breathing. Let alone able to walk. I suggest you take full advantage of that fact.
Golf - the best way to spoil a good walk. Winston Churchill said that. I say it's a dog-eat-dog world. And I got bigger teeth than you two.