Fuck me. Hold tight.
-What's that?
-lt's me belt.

No, Tommy. There's a gun
in your trousers.

-What's a gun doing in your trousers?
-lt's for protection.

Protection from what?
''Zee'' Germans?
What's to stop it blowing your
bollocks off when you sit?

-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.
lf it doesn't work,
you can always hit him with it.

Boris The Blade,
or Boris The Bullet-Dodger.

Bent as the Soviet sickle and
hard as the hammer that crosses it.

Apparently, it'sjust 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, l'll take it.
There's a reason for Tommy's newfound
enthusiasm for firearms.

Sooner or later, in unlicensed boxing,
you have to deal with that reason:

Brick Top.
lf that's not worth a bet,
l don't know what is.

-He doesn't look bad, does he?
-No, he looks great.

He'll do you proud.
You reckon that's what people should
do for me, Gary? Do me proud?

lt's what you deserve.
Pull your tongue out of my arsehole.
Dogs do that.
You're not a dog, are you?
No. No, l'm not.
:09:39 do have all the characteristics
of a dog, Gary.

All except loyalty.
It's rumoured that his favourite means
of dispatch involves a stun gun...

...a plastic bag, a roll of tape
and a pack ofhungry pigs.

You're a ruthless little cunt, Liam.
l'll give you that.

But l got no time for grouses.