Gangster No. 1 Page #3

Don't use it.

- What you having?

- Whiskey.

That's it.

- It's on the house.

- No, that's for you.

F***ing hell. Thanks.

Well, well, well.

This is nice.

- Hello, Freddie.

- All right, Lennie.

- Long time, no see.

- Yeah.

Bobby.

Take a walk.

I went to see him today.

Yeah?

Hospital.

No, no, thanks.

I took him up some flowers,

some grapes.

Nice.

I should have took him up

some f***ing Nesquik.

C*nt's got no teeth.

I thought we sorted

our problems out, Freddie.

- Oh, did you?

- Yes, I did!

What's this about, then?

- Why are you here?

- Why do you think?

You want to go to war with me,

Freddie?

That what this is about?

Oi, look at me.

Oi, camel c*nt. Look at me.

Look into my f***ing eyes.

--F***ing Fry's Turkish Delight!

Come on, me and you outside!

Outside!

We'll have a straightener!

We'll sort it out.

Who's who and what's what!

What, you scared?

Are you scared?

Lennie...

...why don't you just sit down?

Sit down?

Sit down? You come into my club,

telling me to sit down?

You long streak of f***ing piss!

Lennie, don't f*** around.

My place was petrol-bombed.

It's about that, is it?

Four thousand it cost me.

Four-f***ing-thousand.

Oh, Freddie, Freddie, Freddie.

Listen, when I heard about that...

...I couldn't have been

more surprised.

I was...

I was gutted.

I hope you ain't insinuating that

that had anything to do with me.

Because that would be wrong.

My conscience is clear.

Look at me.

Burning clubs ain't my game.

Look into my f***ing eyes.

If I want to come

after you, Freddie...

...I'll f***ing come after you.

It's our f***ing...

Maxie, Maxie, Maxie!

Oh, dear, Maxie.

Just you wait, son.

But that's nothing compared

to what happened to Lennie Taylor.

He's a good boy, though, eh?

He ain't scared, is he?

All right.

All right.

Let's just say he did work for me.

Did.

That's not to say I gave the order.

Let's just say,

for the sake of argument...

...that someone's come in your club

with a lighted cigarette.

They've dropped it in a bin...

...and a subsequent fire's ensued.

And let's say for the same

sake of argument...

...that my man slipped in the showers.

Or someone's dropped

a taxi on his head.

Well, these things happen.

How does that sound?

- Sounds about right, doesn't it?

- Yeah.

Sounds about right, doesn't it?

Come here. Come here.

Bobby, Bobby!

Bubbly.

Let's have a nice drink, eh?

F***ing warm champagne.

F***ing prick!

Listen.

- You want to get a proper drink?

- Yeah, go on then.

Right.

He had on that gray

two-piece mohair.

That was a great suit.

Immaculate cut. Italian.

Always with a white shirt.

Always.

His ruby cuff links.

I loved them.

I f***ing loved them.

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