“Cor blimey,
them oysters are slimy, and that cod is a little odd,” cried little Mo Barrow,
the Cockney sparrow.
“Come on,
luv,” protested Bash the Slash. “It’s quality stuff I got from the guv.”
“Not another
present from them bleedin’ Krays. All you do is sing their praise.”
“Ain’t many
blokes like that in this day and age. They’re real smart geezers and pay me
wage.”
“Yeah, and
I’m 'er indoors, the stupid bleedin’ wife, with an 'usband that goes to work
with a Stanley knife.”
“Oh stop
bleedin’ moanin’, my trouble an’ strife. All I’m tryin’ to do is give us a life.”
“Yeah, one
behind bars, and they’ll still have their clubs and their fancy cars.”
“Someone 'as
to do it, do them jobs. Someone 'as to be tough and sort out them yobs.”
“Just dirty
work that both of them shirk. If they’re the big bad brothers, 'ow come they
still cower in front of mother?”
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