it's a dog eat dog world, lads, and i got bigger teeth than you.
you were saying?
no you prat, that's for me.
how many times do i have to explain this to you, plank? you find a job worth doing and you will find your share improving . . . now do you have a problem with that?
so do you know these geezers well?
what they like then?
listen, they can't be all stupid if they got a container load of cash sitting in shoe boxes, a skip-load of class a gear and you don't think there is anybody sensible involved.
what about security?
what do you mean, never? well what have they got it for, then?
is there no way they can get back to you?
there is no such thing as easy in my experience and, if you think this is going to be easy, you're a dick. it may be easier than most but it's not going to be easy.
what's that idiot doing next door? we use your van. it's up some stairs this place, so we'll stick out like balls on a bulldog. plank is going up first. there is a cage but it is never locked, is it plank?
and it better bloody not be. once he is firmly in place, he gets the rest of us in. we'll get nasty with a couple of them, shit 'em up, scare and gag 'em. i can't see these wankers giving us a problem, but they might have a couple of tools hanging around like any cowboy. when the job is done we'll come straight back here. it's dark by then, unload and robert's your father's brother. everybody savvy?
right, tomorrow, eight o'clock we'll do it. apparently these stags don't get out of bed till midday, lowest ebb and all that, and that's how i like it.
so no messing around tonight. we leave eight a.m., ok?
what the fuck is going on?
no, you silly fucker, stay still. what's going on?
go! go! go! fucking run, you two.
(mesmerized} the fucking gate's shut, you prick.
what the fuck did you do to fauntleroy?
get the sodding gate open now, plank.
just give me the keys.
you could have brought something a bit more fucking practical, couldn't ya?
who are you going to kill plank? there's no one there.
well shoot them.
i don't fucking believe this. could everybody stop getting shot. sit down john, you cock, patch yourself up; it's only a fucking air rifle.
if you use that again, you're a dead man, do you understand?
right, his leg's going now.
and all your friends, there's a good lad.
do you want me to take his leg off? where's the fourth?
plank?
ok, open the gate.
where?
and the weed?
all right plank, get paul out of the van.
give us your knife.
shut up, you idiot. you got the bags? can you get it in?
bollocks, you'll get it in even if you have to do two trips.
how about you? all right?
do it quietly.
paul, what's that?
what's he doing in the van?
we will deal with him later.
i'll find you.
dead. dead. i don't know who they think they could be, for me not to find 'em. of course i'll find 'em. i don't give a flying fucking fish who they think they are. i'll kill - fur and feathers, burning wheel south african style, kebab 'em, peel 'em, slice 'em and dice ' em, hang draw and fucking quarter ' em.
i want you to search the house for bugs. i mean i want you to strip it.
it is too late for you to start thinking john. it is a possibility and that is good enough for me. and after you strip the house, i want you to get every thieving slag this side of ceylon and torture them, badly. i want to know who is responsible, otherwise i will hold you responsible.
so we have a bit of a problem, don't we?
in fact it is a little more than a bit of a problem, isn't it? you could say that in the scale of these things this is the mount fucking everest of problems, couldn't you? . . . and the reason it is such a mon fucking-strosity of a problem is because you don't have the first fucking idea who did this to us, do you?
you wouldn't know if it was the next-door fucking neighbours, you prick! you find 'em, you hear? and find 'em quick! now get out and start looking! out! out!
the stupid bastards! count it!
we're not going next door until we've flayed these dead men walking. count it out the back. i don't want them seeing you fingering that money as soon as they walk in.
made a few quid, did ya? now where is it?
very fucking funny. where's what i want?
well, you had better go and get it from the office. that's if you want to see your son reach his next birthday. now chop-fuckin'-chop.
what are you doing?
you had better be careful.