Gangster No. 1

- It was him. He was one of them.
- You shut your fucking mouth!

Well, what was I supposed to do?
He started the fire. He fucking shot at me.

Being flash and a coon,
Roland had to be different.

Goes in with the shaft.
Bends the fucking thing.

I tell a lie, breaks the fucking thing.
Mad John's doing his feet.
Meticulous attention to detail.

Billy's doing his ribs.
Stone-Age xylophone.
- He'll be all right.
- All right?

The cunt is in traction
for the next nine months.

Might need a fucking wheelchair!
Plastic surgeon. "All right"?

It is not fucking all right.
It is all fucking wrong, you morons!

Saw him about a year later.
Some scarring, bit of a limp.

Seemed all right.
He bought me a drink. What can I say?

He misbehaved. Got punished.
Fuck! Fore!
Should have seen the looks we got
when we brought the clubs back.

Remember what I said?
This is a delicate matter.

What do you do?
You go and give the cunt a handicap.

Fucking grief you've caused me.
"Fuck what Freddie says," is that it?
Is it? Well, there's the chair.
Who wants it?

There it is. Come on, who wants it?
Come on, who wants it?