Jimmy McCavern

— You know, it's a pity. I was looking forward to killing you.
— You're at the back of a long queue.

— The nature of the deal is explained in my proposal. I've booked you a suite at the Midland Hotel. If you need anything in this city, just mention my name.
— So you want to impress me, Mr Shelby?
— Also in the envelope is a cheque for five hundred pounds for your wife. She can use it to buy a black dress, rent a black horse with black feathers, to pull a black carriage with your body in it, should you break the terms of the white flag. Now, please, enjoy the city it's my honour to represent.

— We should postpone our war.
— Your brother left me a hand grenade.
— He sends his apologies. You left me land mines.
— For which I too apologies.

— Well, who would've thought I'd be doing business with fucking Gypsy Catholic scum? ... Aye, but you're OK.
— Yeah, I'm only OK until I'm not OK. Then I'm really not.

— Mr Mosely is open to suggestion regarding who he can rely on to offer him support in London.
— Well, I would suggest the most competent organiser of men in the south... is Alfie Solomons.
— He's dead. And he's Jewish! And I'd say as far as our boss is concerned, him being dead would be less of an obstacle than him being Jewish.