Mob Rules

Life is but a stage...

and we are merely players.

If Shakespeare

had it right,

then time is the hall

where we wait...

going over every line,

counting our entrances

and our exits,

until the lights dim

and the murmur

of the crowd fades

telling us it's our moment

in the spotlight.

Wait.

Is this what

you had in mind?

Is it?

With sweaty palms

and nervous feet,

we take the stage.

Anton, come on.

It's bloody cold.

Shh.

What always stands in the way

of what we want?

- Her husband?

- No, a door.

And every door has a lock.

You just have to find

the right...

- key.

Garden was full of keys.

The alarm.

I guess they forgot

to pay the bill.

Oy, tippy-toe.

Tippy-toe.

Alas, poor Yorick.

I knew him well.

Alas, poor Yorick.

I knew him, Horatio.

A man of infinite jest.

You knew him well.

- Bollocks.

- Tyrone, be quiet.

Go check the bedroom.

Too heavy.

Nothing in the bedroom

but linens and lint.

Life but a walking shadow.

Too old.

A poor player who struts

and frets his hour upon the stage

and then is heard

no more.

Too ugly.

A tale told

by an idiot.

"Macbeth,"

scene five, act five.

Come on.

It's like Harry f***ing

Potter in here.

It's the third house tonight

and nothing worth stealing.

I'm tired of all

this wizard rubbish.

Is love a tender thing?

Is it too rough, too rude,

too boisterous?

And it pricks like thorn.

If love be rough with you,

be rough with love.

Prick love for pricking

and you beat love down.

"Romeo and Juliet,"

act one, scene four.

My nephew painted something

like this in primary school.

It's a Picasso.

That's got to be

worth something, right?

No, too easy to trace.

She's got eyes

like the bluest skies.

And if she

thought of rain,

I hate to look into those eyes

and see an ounce of pain.

Guns N' Roses,

"Sweet Child O' Mine,"

verse two.

Thought you were

a Spice Girls fan.

- Occasionally.

- Yeah.

'Ere, it looks

a little like my mate.

Same round face.

You know, the fat geezer

with the beer gut.

You know who I'm talking about.

He drinks all those pints.

Trick or treat.

Great costume,

Mr. Farrington.

Did you know

it's Halloween?

There you go,

Lone Ranger.

One for you, Tonto.

And one for you,

Pirate Jack.

Enjoy.

Well, off you go.

- I love Halloween.

- I got a car.

Only time you can walk around

with a gun and a mask on.

Where's Reggie?

He's still in there!

Drive, will you, man?

Reggie's dead.

Reggie's...

he's dead.

House is a waste of time.

All these pretty houses

and nothing to show for it.

My mom was right.

I should have moved to America

and become a gangster rapper.

At least I could

still carry a gun.

We haven't

found a shekel.

And look at it,

it's starting to rain.

You fancy a holiday?

What are you

going on about?

Do you mean like

a proper holiday?

I mean a paid holiday.

I have a plan.

So who's the lucky geezer?

The name's C-Note.

Miles Davis wannabe and a petty thief

from the West End.

He thought he'd hit it big

when he got wind

of a warehouse down at the docks

used as a money drop by a Turkish

arms dealer called Shank.

Yeah, the Dockland City

raid, right?

Every two-bit hood worth his

salt knows about that job.

I heard he nicked

a million quid,

killed his partner and then f***ed off

to America with all the cash.

- Must be...

- 10 years, mate.

And now he owes

half of LA.

At least the seedier half.

He started with the Silhouette,

a low-rent strip club in the Valley.

And now he's gone Hollywood...

trendy bar with a penthouse,

overpriced sushi joint

in Little Tokyo,

massage parlor.

So it's true.

He made it

to the promised land.

Come on, Peaches.

I told you not tonight.

This is a charity event.

That was a charity.

Did you see that guy?

Shaken, not stirred.

I'm on the list,

but you should watch that one.

Sir, do you mind

if I check you for weapons?

What about him?

They're twins.

You can pick them up

on your way out.

You're gonna leave

a brother naked?

Enjoy the party.

Didn't I tell you

to leave them in the car?

It was cold.

What a body!

You see that?

F***ing hell.

- Hey, babe.

- Hi.

- What you having?

- The usual.

I'll have a brandy and coke

- and I'll have a Ketel One, please.

- You got it.

My mom was right.

Crime does pay.

He thinks this place

makes him look legit.

He thinks running charity events

and rubbing shoulders with celebrities

will buy his way through

the pearly gates.

Well, he's got enough shekels to pay

St. Peter to look the other way

while he sneaks in the back,

that's for sure.

It's the devil he'll be paying

when I'm done with him.

Our guest of honor.

Thank you, thank you.

Wait a minute.

That's Clarence Norrington.

Clarence Norrington

is C-Note?

You're kidding me.

He was the best

saxman in London.

I heard him down

at the One Hundred Club once

hold a single note for 10 minutes

straight without taking a break.

I'm telling you,

Clarence Norrington was...

Oh, hi.

Remind me again

why I'm here.

Because you need a zoning

permit for the new club.

Councilman.

It's a great night, Clarence.

Well, you know, we do what we can

in the name of a good cause.

Hey, how are you?

You know why we really do

these things, don't you?

Let me put my wife to bed

and I'll be right back.

And...

send that up to my room.

- Thank you.

- No problem.

Oh, the variance?

The variance is looking really good.

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