Snatch

Turkish:
Not many people are named after a plane crash.

Turkish:
[Voiceover] This is Tommy. He tells people he's named after a gun, but I know he's named after a famous 19th century ballet dancer.

Turkish:
Hurry up, Tommy, before zee Germans get here.

Turkish:
That's Doug the Head. Everybody knows Doug the Head. If it's stones and it's stolen, he's the man to speak to. Pretends he's Jewish. Wishes he was Jewish. Even tells his family they're Jewish, but he's about as Jewish as he is a f***ing monkey. He thinks it's good for business. And in the diamond business, it is good for business.

Turkish:
Now, I know he looks like a fat f***er … well, he is a fat f***er … but he's dirty and he's dangerous.

Turkish:
[Voiceover] Boris "the Blade", or Boris "the Bullet Dodger". As bent as the Soviet sickle, and as hard as the hammer that crosses it. Apparently, it's just impossible to kill the bastard.

Turkish:
You show me how to control a wild f***ing gypsy, and I'll show you how to control an unhinged, pig-feeding gangster.

Turkish:
Ever crossed the road and looked the wrong way? And hey presto, a car's nearly on you, so what do you do? You freeze. And your life doesn't flash before your eyes, 'cause you're too f***ing scared to think - you just freeze, and pull a stupid face. The pikey didn't - why? Because he had plans on running the car over.

Turkish:
It had previously occurred to me that the pikey had taken the demise of his mother rather lightly. For every action, there is a reaction. And a pikey reaction … is quite a f***ing thing.

Turkish:
Tommy persuaded me to keep the dog; I eventually agreed, as long as he took it to a vet. Couldn't stand that squeaking anymore. The vet found a squeaky toy, an undigested shoe, and an eighty-six carat diamond lodged in the dog's stomach. Lot can happen in a week. [The dog barks] Still didn't shut it up, though.

Turkish:
Now … we are f***ed.

Brick Top:
In the quiet words of the Virgin Mary … come again?

Brick Top:
I don't care if he's Muhammad "I'm-hard" Bruce Lee, you can't change fighters!

Brick Top:
[To Turkish] You are on thin f***ing ice, my pedigree chums, and I shall be under it when it breaks! Now, f*** off.

Brick Top:
Goody gumdrops. Get us a cup of tea, will you, Errol?

Brick Top:
Listen here, you f***ing fringe. If I throw a dog a bone, I don't want to know if it tastes good or not. You stop me again whilst I'm walking, and I'll cut your f***ing jacobs off.

Brick Top:
Do you know what "nemesis" means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible c*nt... me.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[Tony repeatedly slams a car door down on a man's head while the car phone rings; he politely answers] Bonjour?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[Madonna's "Lucky Star" comes on on the radio] Oh, I love this track.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[To a would-be assassin who has just run out of bullets] You're in trouble now, boy.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Never underestimate the predictability of stupidity.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
So, you're obviously the big dick. And there on either side of you are your balls. There are two types of balls. There are big, brave balls, and there are little, mincy f*ggot balls. You d*cks have driving clarity of vision. But they're not clever; they smell p*ssy, and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good ol' p*ssy, and have brought your two little, mincey, f*ggot balls along for a good ol' time. But you've got your parties muddled up. There's no p*ssy here- just a dose that will make you wish you were born a women. Like a prick, you're having second thoughts. You're shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with ya. And the fact that you've got "Replica" written on the side of your guns. And the fact that I've got "Desert Eagle .50" written on the side of mine, should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now f*** off!

Mickey:
Ya got a helluva kick fer a fat focker.

Mickey:
[Roused from his drunken stupor] I need to have a shite.

Mickey:
Fook, 'e's a big fella.

Mickey:
Now look, she wants the Heki 2 roof lights, uh, the stylish ash frame furniture, and the scatter cushions with, uh, matching shag pile cover. Yeah. Right. And she's terrible partial to the periwinkle blue boss.

Mickey:
Ya stay until the job is done

Mickey:
Nobody brings a fella the size o' him, 'less they're tryin' to say somethin' without talkin'.

Mickey:
Why the f*** would I want with a caravan that's got no fockin' wheels?!

Cousin" Avi:
Russians. Anti-semite cossack sluts.

Cousin" Avi:
I'm getting heartburn. Tony, do something terrible.

Cousin" Avi:
[After Rosebud has been badly injured in capturing Boris] First we get the stone, bubi, then we'll get you to a doctor. And not just any doctor, boychik, I'm gonna get you to a nice Jewish doctor. [To Tony] Find my friend a nice Jewish doctor!

Cousin" Avi:
[To his colleague] Yes, London. You know, fish, chips, cup o' tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary f***in' Poppins … London!

Cousin" Avi:
[When asked by the Customs agent at the American airport if he has anything to declare] Yeah, don't go to England!

Cousin" Avi:
[To Doug the Head] Shut up, and sit down you big, bald, f***!

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
Drop the gun, fat boy.

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
You can keep the 10 large, along with the body. But if I see you again - you motherf***ers! - well, look at him. [points to Franky Four Finger's corpse]

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
[referring to the gun he sold Tommy] Heavy is good, heavy is reliable. If it doesn't work … you can always hit them with it.

Chinese Victim of Bullet Tooth Tony:
[after shooting Tony several times without him dying] I shoot you, you go down!

Franky Four Fingers:
So the Biblical scholars mistranslated the Hebrew word for "young woman" into the Greek word for "virgin". It was an easy mistake to make, since there is only a subtle difference in the spelling. But it was the "virgin" that caught people's attention. It's not every day a virgin conceives and bears a son. So you keep that for a couple of hundred years, and the next thing you know, you have the Holy Catholic Church. Oy vey.

Sol:
[Vinny tries to open the outer door at the bookies] It won't open because it's a security door!

Various characters:
[regarding Boris the Blade] Sneaky f***in' Russian

[After seeing Gorgeous George throw an elbow and headbutt a punching bag]

Tommy:
Is he allowed to do that?

Turkish:
It's an unlicensed boxing match, Tommy. It's not a tickling competition. These lads are out to hurt each other.

Turkish:
[referring to their caravan/office] It's not good enough, Tommy. I want another one. And I want you to buy it for me.

Tommy:
Why me?

Turkish:
'Cause you know about caravans.

Tommy:
How's that, then?

Turkish:
You spent a summer in one, which mean's you know more than me. Here's ten grand, and it would be nice to see change. [turns towards caravan]

Tommy:
What's wrong with this one?

Turkish:
[sarcastically, as he pulls the caravan door off trying to open it] Oh, nothing, Tommy. It's tip-top. It's just I'm not sure about the colour.

Turkish:
What's happening with them sausages, Charlie?

Sausage Charlie:
Five minutes, Turkish.

Turkish:
[stares at Charlie in disbelief] Hang on, it was two minutes five minutes ago!

Turkish:
F*** me, hold tight. What's that?

Tommy:
It's me belt, Turkish.

Turkish:
No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?

Tommy:
It's for protection.

Turkish:
Protection from what? Zee Germans? What's to stop it from blowing your bollocks off every time you sit down?

Brick Top:
Pull your tongue out of my arsehole, Gary. Dogs do that. You're not a dog, are ya, Gary?

Gary:
No, no, I'm not.

Brick Top:
However, you have all the characteristics of a dog, Gary … all except loyalty.

[Errol zaps Gary]

Turkish:
[narrating] It's rumored that Brick Top's favorite means of dispatch involves a stun gun, a plastic bag, a roll of tape, and a pack of hungry pigs.

Brick Top:
You're a ruthless little c*nt, Liam. I'll give ya that. But I got no time for grassers.

[Liam is grabbed]

Brick Top:
Feed 'em to the pigs, Errol.

[He turns to face the two shocked boxers in the ring]

Brick Top:
What the f*** are you two looking at?

[In a pig farm, Brick Top is negotiating with Turkish while feeding the corpses to the pigs]

Turkish:
[narrating] If you got to deal with him, just gotta make sure you don't end up owing him. 'Cause then you're in his debt. Which means you're in his pocket. And once you're in there, you ain't ever coming out.

Brick Top:
I hear he's a good fighter, so I'm gonna use him. I'll be doing you a favour, boy.

Turkish:
[narrating] What he means is I'm doing him a favour. 'Cause everybody knows nobody takes a dive in my fights, unlike his.

Brick Top:
Here, Errol. I don't think he likes me. You don't like me, do you, boy?

Turkish:
Don't know what you mean.

Turkish:
[narrating] I do know I can't wait to get out of here. F*** me, it stinks.

Brick Top:
I'd like my fights to finish prompt so we can get the punters out before the authorities find out. Now, play your cards right, and I'll sort you out.

Turkish:
[narrating] You can sort me out by showing me out. It's hard enough to make a living in a boxing world, so every now and then you gotta do something that might not agree with your principles. Basically, you have to forget you got any.

Tommy:
Are they Lancashire pigs?

Brick Top:
Who the f***'s talking to you, boy?

Turkish:
[narrating] Oh yeah, Tommy. Brick Top loves Tommy.

Brick Top:
Now, don't let me down. You don't want to let me down, do you, boy?

Turkish:
[pause] See you ringside.

[Doug sees four Jewish kids smoking outside his shop]

Doug the Head:
What are you doing?

Jewish Boy:
[spits] It's a free country, innit?

Doug the Head:
Well, it ain't a free shop, is it? So f*** off!

Franky Four Fingers:
I have stones to sell, fat to chew, and many different men to see about many different dogs, so if I am not rushing you …

Doug the Head:
Slow down, Franky, my son. When in Rome …

Franky Four Fingers:
I am not in "roam", Doug. I am in a rush.

Gorgeous George:
It's a campsite. A pikey campsite.

Tommy:
Ten points.

Gorgeous George:
What're we doin' here?

Tommy:
Buying a caravan.

Gorgeous George:
Off a pack of f***in' pikeys? What's wrong with you? This will get messy!

Tommy:
Not if you're here.

Gorgeous George:
Oh, you bastard! I f***in' hate pikeys!

Pikey Kid:
That's a flash car, mister!

Tommy:
Not as flash as your bike, though, is it?

Pikey Kid:
Who're you looking for?

Tommy:
Mr O'Neill.

Pikey Kid:
Do you want me to go and get him?

Tommy:
That's a good lad.

[The kid still hasn't left]

Tommy:
Are you gonna get him for me?

Pikey Kid:
Yeah.

Tommy:
What are you waiting for?

Pikey Kid:
The five quid you gonna pay me.

Tommy:
Well, f*** off. I'll find him meself.

Pikey Kid:
Two-fifty!

Tommy:
You can have a quid.

Pikey Kid:
Well, you're a real tight f***er, aren'tcha?

Turkish:
[narrating] Now, there was a problem with pikeys or gypsies …

Mickey:
What're ya doin' here? Get out of the way, man. [babbling and speaking quickly]

Turkish:
[narrating] … you can't really understand much of what's being said.

Mickey:
You Tommy? Come about the caravan?

Tommy:
Mr. O'Neill.

Mickey:
F***, man, call me Mickey.

Turkish:
[narrating] It's not Irish, It's not English …

Tommy:
How are ya?

Mickey:
Weather's been kind, [starts babbling].

Turkish:
[narrating] It's just, well, you know, It's just, pikey.

[Gorgeous George gets out of the car]

Mickey:
F*** me! Would you just look the size of him? How big are ya? Hey kids, how big is he?

Pikey Kid:
Big enough man, fer sure.

Mickey:
'Ey Ma, come and look at the size of this fella. Bet you can box a lil', can't ya, sir? Ah, you look lak a boxer.

Mrs O'Neill:
Get outta the way, Mickey. See if these fellas'd like a drink.

Tommy:
Oh, I could murder one.

Mrs O'Neill:
Be no more murdering done 'round 'ere, I don't mind telling ya.

[Gorgeous George not coming inside with them]

Mrs O'Neill:
Is the big fella not coming with us?

Tommy:
Nah, he's minding the car.

Mrs O'Neill:
What's he think we are? Thieves?

Tommy:
No, nothing like that, Mrs O'Neill. He just likes … looking after cars.

Mickey:
Good dags. D'ya like dags?

Tommy:
Dags?

Mickey:
Dags. Ya like dags?

Mrs. O'Neil:
Yeah, dags.

Tommy:
Oh, dogs. Sure, I like dags. I like caravans more.

Mrs. O'Neil:
You're fairly welcome.

[After the wheels have fallen off the caravan that Tommy and George have just bought from Mickey]

Mickey:
The deal was you bought it like you saw it. Hey, look, I've helped you as much as I'm going to help you. See that car? Just use it, for you're not welcome anymore. You should f*** off now while you still got the legs to carry you.

Gorgeous George:
Nobody …

Mickey:
Nobody brings a fella the size of you unless they're trying to say something without talking, right?

Tommy:
Sorry, Mickey. Just give our money back and you can keep the caravan.

Mickey:
Why the f*** do I want a caravan that's got no f***ing wheels? You want to settle this with a fight?

Mrs. O'Neil:
Over my dead body! Now, go on! Go on! I'll not have you fighting, Mickey! You know what happens when you fight.

Mickey:
Get her to sit down. [turns to face Gorgeous George] For f***'s sake! Want the money? I ain't f***ed you. I'll fight you for it. You and me.

Gorgeous George:
Get back down, or you will not be coming up next time!

[Watches as Mickey warms up]

Gorgeous George:
Oh, bollocks to you. This is sick. I'm out of here.

Mickey:
You're not going anywhere, you thick lump. [pulls off his shirt] You stay until the job's done.

[Mickey kisses his good luck charm, George throws a punch, but Mickey dodges and knocks out George with a clean punch to the jaw]

Turkish:
[narrating] It turned out that the sweet-talking, tattoo-sporting pikey was a gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion. Which makes him harder than a coffin nail. Right now that's the last thing on Tommy's mind. If Gorgeous doesn't wake up in the next few minutes, Tommy knows he'll be buried with him. Why would the gypsies go through the trouble explaining why a man died in their campsite? Not when they can bury the pair of them and just move camp. It's not like they got social security numbers, is it? Tommy "the Tit" is praying. And if he isn't … he f***ing should be.

Sol:
No, it's a moissanite.

Bad Boy Lincoln:
A what-a-nite?

Sol:
A moissanite is an artificial diamond, Lincoln. It's Mickey Mouse, mate. Spurious. Not genuine. And it's worth … f*** all.

Turkish:
You put Gorgeous George into a fight with a gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion? What did you expect? A grease-down and a shiatsu?

Tommy:
Who took the jam out of your doughnut?

Turkish:
You took the f***ing jam out of my doughnut, Tommy! You did!

Mickey:
I'll tell you what, I'll do it for a caravan.

Turkish:
For what?

Pikeys:
For a caravan.

Tommy:
It was us who wanted a caravan.

[Looking around]

Tommy:
Anyway, what's wrong with this one?

Mickey:
It's not for me. It's for me ma.

Turkish:
Your what?

Pikeys:
His ma!

Turkish:
We've lost Gorgeous George.

Brick Top:
[to all] Shh! [to Turkish] You're gonna hafta repeat that.

Turkish:
We've lost Gorgeous George.

Brick Top:
Well, where'd ya lose him? He's ain't a set of car keys, is he? And it's not as if he's incon-f***ing-spicuous, now, is it?

Tyrone:
I don't want that dog dribbling on my seats.

Vinny:
Your seats? Tyrone, this is a stolen car, mate.

[After seeing Tyrone struggle to get out of the car because of his size]

Vinny:
Oy!

Sol:
What?

Vinny:
I thought you said he was a getaway driver. What the f*** can he get away from, eh?

Sol:
What's that?

Vinny:
Heh-heh. This is a shotgun, Sol.

Sol:
It's a f***ing anti-aircraft gun, Vincent!

Vinny:
Yeah, I wanna raise some pulses, don't I?

Sol:
You'll raise hell, never mind pulses!

Vinny:
Why are we stopped here? What's wrong with that spot over there?

Tyrone:
It's too tight.

Vinny:
Too tight? You could land a jumbo f***ing jet in there!

Sol:
He's a natural, ain't you, Tyrone?

Tyrone:
'Course I am …

[Reverses into parked van]

Vinny:
A natural f***ing idiot! What have you done?

Sol:
Yeah, Tyrone, what have you done?

[Tyrone just backed into Franky Four Fingers' van]

Tyrone:
I didn't see it there.

Vinny:
It's a four ton truck, Tyrone. It's not as though it's a packet of f***ing peanuts, now, is it?

Tyrone:
It was at a funny angle.

[All three turn and look back at the van]

Vinny:
It's behind you, Tyrone. Whenever you reverse, things come from behind you!

Tommy:
You said, get a good deal.

Turkish:
I fail to recognise the correlation between losing 10 K, hospitalising Gorgeous and a good deal. How are we gonna explain this to Brick Top? That his fight isn't gonna happen?

Tommy:
We replace the fighter.

Turkish:
Oh, and hope he doesn't notice? And who the f*** are we gonna replace him with?

Tommy:
What about John the Gun? Or Mad Fist Willy?

Turkish:
You're not exactly Mr Current Affairs, are you, Tommy? Mad Fist went mad, [a quick, split second shot of Mad Fist Willy going mad] and The Gun shot himself. [quick, split second shot of John the Gun shooting himself in the head]

[On learning that Franky is making his way to a boxing match - and gambling]

Avi:
Did he have a case on him?

Doug the Head:
Yes. He had a case.

Avi:
And this schmuck is gambling? You're talking about Franky "I've got a problem with gambling" f***ing Four Fingers, Doug!

Doug the Head:
Avi, I'm not telepathic.

Avi:
Well, you're plenty f***ing stupid, I'll give you that. Do you have any idea why they call him Franky "Four Fingers", Doug?

Doug the Head:
No, I have no idea.

Avi:
Well, 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 f***ing foreskin either!

Avi:
[to his aide "Rosebud"] You got a toothbrush? I'm going to London. [into phone] You hear that, Doug? I'm coming to London!

[Quick, split-second shots of Avi's flight from New York to London, instantly]

Doug the Head:
Avi!

Avi:
Shut up and sit down, you big, bald f***! [Doug sheepishly complies] I don't like leaving my own country, Doug, and I especially don't like leaving it for anything less than warm, sandy beaches, and cocktails with little straw hats.

Doug the Head:
We've got sandy beaches …

Avi:
Yeah? So who the f*** wants to see 'em?

Tyrone:
Look, are we gonna rob this bookies or what?

Sol:
Yes, big man.

Tyrone:
What are we waiting for, anyway?

Sol:
We are waiting for a man with four fingers, carrying a briefcase, Tyrone.

Tyrone:
And why's that?

Sol:
Because the deal is, the Russian gets the case, we get the money.

Tyrone:
What's in the case?

Vinny:
Oh, for f***'s sake, Tyrone, just concentrate on the steering wheel.

[While robbing the bookies]

Sol:
How you doing, Vince?

Vinny:
I would be a lot better if you stopped using my name.

Female Bookie:
All bets are off.

Sol:
I'm not in here to make a f***ing bet!

Female Bookie:
'Preciated, but [pointing at board] all … bets … are … off. If all bets are off, then there can't be any money, can there?

Sol:
I ain't f***ing buying that!

Female Bookie:
Well, that's handy, 'cause I ain't f***ing selling it. It's a fact.

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
Give me the stone.

Vinny:
[pointing] It's in the case.

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
What? [takes out his earplugs]

Vinny:
It's in the case!

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
You put the stone in the case? Then open the case and give me the stone.

Sol:
The only man who knew the combination … you just shot.

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
[in russian] Ёб твою мать. [pronounced "yob tvoyu mat", meaning "f***ed your mother"]

Turkish:
What brings you two here? Run out of pants to sniff?

Errol:
That sounds like 'ostility, doesn't it, John?

John:
And we don't like 'ostility, do we, Errol?

Errol:
No, we don't, John.

Turkish:
You take sugar?

Brick Top:
No, thank you, Turkish; I'm sweet enough.

Brick Top:
I've got a bare-knuckle fight in a couple of days. I wanna use the pikey.

Turkish:
All right, of course.

Brick Top:
Of course f***ing of course. I wasn't asking, I was telling.

[After cleaning out Turkish's safe]

Brick Top:
He's been quite a busy little bastard, that Turkish.

Errol:
I think you've let him get away with enough, Guv'nor.

Brick Top:
It'll get you in a lot of trouble thinking, Errol. I wouldn't do too much of it.

[Looking at a surveillance tape of the bookies]

Brick Top:
Do you know these tits, Errol?

Errol:
I know a lot of tits, Guv'nor. But I don't know quite any as f***ing stupid as these two.

Brick Top:
John?

John:
I can't help, Guv.

[Until Tyrone appears onscreen]

Errol:
Ah. Tyrone.

John and Errol:
[simultaneously] You silly fat bastard.

Tommy:
What's coursing?

Turkish:
Hare coursing. They set two lurchers - they're dogs, before you ask - on a hare. And the hare has to outrun the dogs.

Tommy:
So, what if it doesn't?

Turkish:
Well, the big rabbit gets f***ed, doesn't it?

Tommy:
[pauses and thinks] Proper f***ed?

Turkish:
Yeah, Tommy. Before zee Germans get there.

Turkish:
Well, do you want to do it?

Mickey:
That depends.

Turkish:
On what?

Mickey:
On you buying this caravan. Ah, not the rouge one, the rose.

Turkish:
It's not the same caravan.

Mickey:
It's not the same fight.

Turkish:
It's twice the f***ing size of the last one.

Mickey:
The fight is twice the size. And me ma still needs a caravan. I like to look after me ma. It's a fair deal. Take it.

Turkish:
Mickey, you're lucky we aren't worm food after your last performance. Buying a tart's mobile palace is a little f***ing rich.

[Realizes his mistake as the gypsies stare threateningly at him]

Turkish:
I wasn't calling your mum a tart. I just meant …

Mickey:
Save your breath for cooling your porridge. Now look: She wants the Hector-2 roof lights, uh... the stylish ash-framed furniture and the scatter cushions with the matching shag pile covering.

[Turkish and Tommy look at each other with confusion]

Mickey:
Right. And she's terribly partial to the periwinkle blue. Have I made myself clear, lads?

Turkish:
Yeah, that's perfectly clear, Mickey, yeah. Just give me one minute to confer with my colleague.

[Turns to Tommy]

Turkish:
Did you understand a single word of what he just said?

Turkish:
Okay, I reckon the hare gets f***ed.

Mickey:
What? Proper f***ed? [laughs all round]

[After losing the bet to the pikeys]

Tommy:
Who's proper f***ed now, then?

[Next scene]

Tommy:
There's something very wrong about this. It was us who wanted to buy a caravan off of him.

Turkish:
Well, why didn't you "bust a cap in his ass", then, Tommy? Mind you, you'd do more damage if you threw it at him.

Tommy:
What, you sayin' I can't shoot?

Turkish:
No, Tommy, I wasn't saying you can't shoot. I know you can't shoot. What we're saying is that six pound piece of sh*t stuck in your pants would do more damage if you fed it to him.

Tommy:
You saying the gun don't work?

Turkish:
You've tried it?

[Next scene - Tommy tries to shoot out of the window, but the gun doesn't work]

Turkish:
Whoops.

Tommy:
(annoyed) I wanna see that sneaky f***ing Russian.

[After hearing about Bullet-Tooth Tony surviving after being shot six times]

Avi:
Six times?

Doug the Head:
In one sitting.

Avi:
So what should I call you, "Bullet"? "Tooth"?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
You can call me Susan if it makes you happy.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
A bookie's got blagged last night.

Avi:
"Blagged"? Tony, speak English. I thought this country spawned the f***ing language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.

[Standing over Franky's body]

Bad Boy Lincoln:
What has he got a tea cosy on his head for?

Sol:
[sarcastically] To keep his head warm.

Bad Boy Lincoln:
Well, what happened to him?

Sol:
He got shot in the face, Lincoln. I would have thought that would be obvious.

Bad Boy Lincoln:
What'd you do that for? You mistake him for a rabbit? What'd you want me to do about it?

Vinny:
Sort it out.

Bad Boy Lincoln:
I'm not a f***ing witch doctor.

Sol:
But you are a bad-boy yardie, and bad-boy yardies are supposed to know how to get rid of bodies.

Bad Boy Lincoln:
I create the bodies. I don't erase the bodies.

Brick Top:
You're always gonna have problems lifting a body in one piece. Apparently, the best thing to do is cut up a corpse into six pieces and pile it all together.

Sol:
Would someone mind telling me, who are you?

Brick Top:
And when you got your six pieces, you gotta get rid of them, because it's no good leaving it in the deep freeze for your mum to discover, now, is it? Then I hear the best thing to do is feed them to pigs. You got to starve the pigs for a few days, then the sight of a chopped-up body will look like curry to a pisshead. You gotta shave the heads of your victims, and pull the teeth out for the sake of the piggies' digestion. You could do this afterwards, of course, but you don't want to go sievin' through pig sh*t, now, do you? They will go through bone like butter. You need at least sixteen pigs to finish the job in one sitting, so be wary of any man who keeps a pig farm. They will go through a body that weighs 200 pounds in about eight minutes. That means that a single pig can consume two pounds of uncooked flesh every minute. Hence the expression: "as greedy as a pig".

[Slightly stunned pause]

Vinny:
Well … thank you for that. That's a real weight off me mind. Now, I mean, wouldn't you mind telling me exactly who the f*** you are, apart from someone who feeds people to pigs, of course.

Brick Top:
Do you know what "nemesis" means? "A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent." Personified in this case by an 'orrible c*nt: me.

Brick Top:
What do you think, Errol?

Errol:
I think we should drip dry 'em, Guv'nor. While we've got the chance.

Brick Top:
[exasperated] It was a rhetorical question, Errol. What have I told you about thinking?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
All right, Mullet?

[Mullet freezes in shock, then turns around]

Mullet:
Hey Tony! How you doin', mate, all right?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Oh, nice tie.

Mullet:
I heard you weren't about much these days, Tony.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
What do you know? Still warm, the blood that courses through my veins. Unlike yours, Mullet.

Mullet:
Do me a favor, Tone …

Bullet Tooth Tony:
I will do you a favor, Mullet. I'll not get out of the car and bash the living f*** out of you in front of your girlfriends.

Mullet:
Got to make it worth my while, mate. Jesus, Tony, you know that.

[Tony grabs Mullets tie and rolls up the window, wedging Mullets head in it]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Comfortable, Mullet? It seems sadly ironic that it's that tie that got you into this pickle. Now, you just take all the time you want.

Mullet:
What the f*** you doing, Tone?!

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Driving down the street with your head stuck in my window. What do you think I'm doing, you pinarse?

Mullet:
Slow down, Tone!

Bullet Tooth Tony:
You been using dog sh*t for toothpaste, Mullet?

Mullet:
Slow down, Tone. Slow down, Tony!

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Don't think I'll slow down. I think I'll speed up.

[He starts to accelerate]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Boris the Blade? As in … Boris the Bullet-Dodger?

Avi:
Why do they call him the Bullet-Dodger?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[gives him an odd look] Because he dodges bullets, Avi.

[Sol is holding two pistols]

Vinny:
What do you mean, replicas?

Sol:
They look the sh*t, don't they? And no one is going to argue. I've got some extra loud blanks just in case.

Vinny:
Oh, in case we have to deafen them to death?

Avi:
How do we wanna get rid of him? [talking about Boris in the carboot]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Do you want to shoot him?

Avi:
It's a little noisy, isn't it?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Do you want to stab him?

Avi:
That's a little cold-blooded, isn't it?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[annoyed] Do you want to kill him or not?

Rosebud:
[in the backseat, taking the blade out of his jacket] I'll cut him. I got a blade.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Yeah, that's the spirit.

[In a car, tailing Bullet Tooth Tony]

Vinny:
Do they fire? [while holding a Replica gun]

Sol:
Of course they fire.

Vinny:
But how'd you know, they're replicas. What do you know about replicas?

[Sol is annoyed by the questions. He raises the gun and fires. The gunshot is loud enough to smash the windows. They all shout in fright]

Vinny:
What the f*** are you doing, Solomon?!

Sol:
Well, you wanted to know whether or not they worked!

Vinny:
I didn't mean try it in the car, Sol, you arsehole!

Tommy:
You shouldn't drink that stuff anyway. [looking at the milk Turkish is drinking]

Turkish:
Why, what's wrong with it?

Tommy:
It's not in sync with evolution.

Turkish:
Shut up.

Tommy:
Cows have only been domesticated for the last eight thousand years. Before that, they were running around mad as lorries. The human digestive system hasn't got used to dairy products yet.

Turkish:
Well, f*** me, Tommy. What have you been reading?

Tommy:
Let me do you a favour. [takes the milk off Turkish's hand and throws it out the window and it hits a car behind them followed by screeching tires and a loud crash]

Both:
[look at each other] Whoops.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
You. Want a knife?

Avi:
Me? No, not me. I wouldn't know what to do.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
It's a knife, for God's sake. What's you used to keep you fork company for all these years? The sharp side, the blunt side. What do you want, a lesson?

[The car crashes into a pole]

Avi:
[after coming to, and being told to get out of the car] What about Rosebud?

Bullet Tooth Tony:
You can take him with you, if you like. [looks back at Rosebud, who drove a sword through his chest during the crash, and is now stone dead] Which bit do you want to take?

[In front of Boris' house]

Turkish:
He's left the door open.

Tommy:
Shouldn't think that a good idea. Should we go in?

Turkish:
I don't wanna go in there. He's a dangerous bastard. Taken too many disco biscuits in the heat of Russian disputations. He's got as many of these nuts [grabs his balls] as he has those nuts. [points to his head]

Tommy:
I don't care if he's got f***ing hazelnuts. I want a gun that works, and I'm gonna tell him.

Turkish:
[acts surprised about Tommy's confidence] My God, Tommy. You certainly got those minerals. Well, come on then. Before zee Germans get here. You just tell him who's in charge.

[Boris comes from behind, covered in blood maniacally muttering in Russian]

Tommy:
Er, Boris.

[Boris continues walking towards his house, punching Tommy in the nuts]

Turkish:
You certainly told him, Tommy.

[Boris comes out from the House with the gun]

Boris "the Blade" Yurinov:
[in Russian] … со мной? Ну что будете теперь делать? Что? ["With me? So what are you going to do now? Huh?"]

Sol:
I don't want a fuss, and I don't want to put a bullet in your face, but unless you give me exactly what I want, there will be f***ing murders.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[to Tyrone] What's your name?

Vinny:
Shoot him.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[mocking] Ooh.

[Sol attempts to pistol-whip Tony; Tony catches his hand and grips it tightly as Vinny draws another gun]

Vinny:
Let … go … of … the … gun!

[Tony releases Sol]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
So, you're obviously the big dick. And that, on either side of you, are your balls. There are two types of balls. There are big, brave balls, and there are little mincey f*ggot balls.

Vinny:
These are your last words, so make them a prayer.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Now, d*cks have drive and clarity of vision, but they're not clever. They smell p*ssy, and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good old p*ssy, and have brought your two small mincey f*ggot balls along for a good old time. But you've got your parties muddled up. There's no p*ssy here, just a dose that'll make you wish you were born a woman. Like a prick, you're having second thoughts. You're shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you've got "Replica" written down the side of your guns, and the fact that I've got "Desert Eagle point-five-oh" written on the side of mine, should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now … f*** off.

[Sips his stout as Vinny, Sol, and Tyrone dejectedly slink away]

Avi:
Tony.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
What?

Avi:
Look in the dog.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
(What) You mean, "look in the dog"?

Avi:
I mean, open him up.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
It's not a f***ing tin of baked beans! What d'you mean, "open him up"?!

Avi:
You know what I mean.

[The dog whimpers]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
That's a bit strong, isn't it?

[On learning that Vincent has stored the diamond in his trousers for safety]

Sol:
You ain't from this planet, are you, Vincent? Who is gonna mug two black fellas, holding pistols, sitting in a car … that's worth less than your shirt?

Vinny:
[looks out window] Bullet Tooth Tony and his friend, "Desert Eagle point-five-oh".

Sol:
What have they got to do with anything?

Vinny:
They're both staring straight at me.

[Tony comes into view, taps gun on car window]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
You should never underestimate the predictability of stupidity. Now, out the car. And leave the water pistols behind you.

[Having blundered into Avi, holding him up at gunpoint]

Vinny:
Give me the case!

Avi:
[contemptful and fed-up] F*** you. Shoot me.

Vinny:
I will! I'll shoot you!

[Vinny and Sol fumble with their guns; Tony, hearing the shouting, approaches from another room. Boris enters, brandishing an assault rifle]

Boris:
Pass me case, or I shoot you.

Avi:
You know what? F*** you too. Go ahead and shoot me, you'd be doing me a favor, you Russian f***! Go ahead!

Boris:
[to Vinny and Sol] You! Drop guns!

Vinny:
[to Boris] F*** you! You drop the gun!

Boris:
[takes aim] Okay …

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[from another room] Avi? Pull your socks up!

[Avi, Vinny, Sol and Tyrone stare at one another, then fall to the floor; Tony shoots through the wall and into the room, wounding Boris]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Avi? Where's the case?

Avi:
[on the floor face-down] Put the gun away.

Bullet Tooth Tony:
What's Boris doing here? Boris, what are you doing here?

Boris:
F*** you!

[Tony shoots him twice, then goes over to Tyrone]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Where's the case?

Boris:
[groans] You piece of crap …

Bullet Tooth Tony:
Don't take the piss, Boris.

Boris:
I'll show you … now …!

[Tony shoots him four more times]

Boris:
F*** you!

[Tony shoots him again]

Boris:
Almost had it …

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[annoyed] For f***'s sake …

[Takes careful aim and shoots Boris one more time; looks down at Tyrone]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[contempt] F*** you, an' all.

[Casually pulls the trigger, only to learn that he has run out of ammunition]

Bullet Tooth Tony:
[exasperated] You lucky bastard!

Stealin' Stones and Breakin' Bones

Now you see it, now you don't!

Stealing stones is hazardous.

Brick Top:
You're on thin f***ing ice my pedigree chums, and I shall be under it when it breaks. Now, f*** off.

Brick Top:
Pull your tongue out of my arsehole Gary. Dogs do that, You're not a dog are yer Gary?

Mickey:
Ya like dags, dags, ya like em

Mickey:
Save your breath for cooling your porridge