You're on thin-fucking-ice, my pedigree chums. And I shall be under it when it breaks.
Pull your tongue out of my arsehole.
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.
— The dog... The dog must have had 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 f***ing tin of baked beans! What do you mean "open him up"
— Do you know these tits, Errol?
— I know a lot of tits, but I don't know any as fucking stupid as these two.
Do you know why they call him Franky "Four Fingers" Doug? 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.
You put the man into a bare-knuckle boxing match. What the fuck did you expect? A grease-down and a shiatsu?
— 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, is it?
— We're not backing out.
— You bet your bollocks to a barn dance you're not.