-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.
l fucking hate pikeys.
That's a flash car, mister.
Not as flash as your bike.
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?

-What are you waiting for?
-The five quid you'll pay me.

Fuck off, l'll find him meself.
-Two fifty.
-You can have a quid.

You're a real tight fucker.
There was a problem with gypsies.
What're you doing?
Get out of the way, man.

You can't understand
what's being said.

You Tommy? Come about the caravan?
-Mr. O'Neil.
-Fuck, man. Call me Mickey.

Not Irish, not English.
-How are you?
-Weather's been kind.

It'sjust Pikey.
Would you look at the size of him?
How big are you?
-Kids, how big is he?
-Big, 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.
See if they'd like a drink.

l could murder one.
Be no murdering done around here,
l don't mind telling you.

Get your hands out of there.
Cup of tea for the big fella?
Don't be silly, Mickey.
Offer the man a proper drink.

You little bugger.
-ls the big fella not coming with us?
-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?


-Yeah, dags.
-Dags. You like dags?

Oh, dogs.
Sure, l like dags.
-l like caravans more.
-You're very welcome.