Sticks and stow-ens
“Hee-yor, Deco. You seen dem Sopranos dats on de telly?”
“Yeah man, fucking sick dey are. Legendary fuckin’ hard men, loadsa cash, birds, caaaars and fuckin’ guns. Yeah man, solid.”
“D’ya reckon we should after be settin’ up a cry-em famly loike dat here in de Blanch?”
“Dat’s a fuckin’ sound plan, man. Only ting is loike we’re not actually famly an’ all.”
“Well, what about I marry your sistaw?”
“Stay de fuck away from me sistaw, ya cuntcha. Me knuckles are only after getting back in shape after batterin’ dat uddor bloke she was seein’.”
“Dat was Mr Hanlon, yer 73 year old next door neighbaw and she was just saying hello outside yer gaff! Clow-en. Look, I marry your sistaw, you marry my sistaw and den we have a cry-em famly coz I’ll do cry-ems and you’ll do cry-ems. Den seein’ as your muddaw is Wayner’s muddaw’s sistaw you’re related to him an’ all and if he marry’s Lynchie’s sistaw den he’s related to me coz his half brudder is my Da’s brudder’s nephew. It’s sorted.”
“Deadly. I’m buzzin’ boss. What’ll we do dough?”
“Easy. Yore already sellin’ de yokes, Lynchie gets de smoke and de coke, I’m after lendin’ Smithy and Mango €4,000 for a deal so I just tell dem I’m collectin’ with interest so that’s the loan sharkin’ sorted and all Wayner has to do is get involved in the construction or waste disposal business.”
“Waste disposal, eh? Who’s gonna fuckin’ pay him for buryin’ a load o’ tinkers and Romanians dough?”
“Heh, you’re a fuckin’ muppeh! Du udder ting we’ll do, reeeet, is go round to all dem blokes dat we don’t like and just shoot de cunts in the cunt.”
“Rapid! And de best ting is dat de cops don’t even have any fuckin’ guns so if any of dem catch up with us we’ll just shoot dem in the bollix!”
“De only ting is we have to come up with a deadly nay-em like de ‘Sopranos’ or de ‘Latin Kings’ or de ‘Crips’”
“Dat’s what I like about gangs, equal opportunity an’ all dat. You’ve got wops, spics and disabled people all doin’ the same stuff.”
“You’re a fuckin’ stupid cunt, so you are.”
“Don’t call me stupid or I’ll fuckin’ burst ya, ya cuntcha.”
“Shut up. A nay-em. We need a nay-em. Maybe after a snake or sumthin’. ‘De Cobras! Dat’s it!”
“Nah man, dere’s already a gang called de Cobras.”
“Right, a dangerous animal. De Black Pantaws!”
“Taken”.
“Shite. De Bloods!”
“Taken”.
“Arse. I know. De Ayran Brudderhud!!”
“Taken. You’re no good at dis. I’ve got an idea. You know dat vicious dog you used to have? De one dat bit the balls out of Shaner’s pants and de one dat done a poo on yer ma’s carpet? What was his nay-em again?”
“Scamp?”
“Yeah. Scamp. Mad yoke he was. What make of dog was he?”
“West Highland White terrier.”
“Dere you go den!”
“What do you mean ‘dere you go’?”
“Dat’s our name. From now on we’re de ‘Westies’!”
“Deeeeeeeeaaaadly!”
