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]
Mickey: You stay until the job's done.
[kisses his good luck charms and knocks Gorgeous out with a single punch]
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 of explaining why a man died in their campsite 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 fucking should be.