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Turkish:[narrating] Now there was a problem with pikies or gypsies...
Mickey: What're ya doin' here? Get out of the way, man. [babbling and speaking quickly]
Turkish:[narrating]...you can't really understand much of what's being said.
Mickey: You Tommy? Come about the caravan?
Tommy: Mr. O'neill.
Mickey: ****, man. Call me Mickey.
Turkish:[narrating]He's not Irish, he's not English...
Tommy: How are ya?
Mickey: Weather's been kind, [starts babbling].
Turkish:[narrating] He just well, ya know, he's just Pikey.
[Gorgeous George gets out of the car]
Mickey: **** me! Would you just look the size of him? How big are ya? Hey kids, how big is he?
Pikey kid: Big enough man, fo sure.
Mickey: Hey Mam, come and look at the size of this fella. Bet you can box a lil' can't ya, sir. Ahh, you look lak a boxer.
Mrs O'neill: Get outta the way, Mickey. See if these fellas'd like a drink.
Tommy: Oh, I could murder one.
Mrs O'neill: Be no more murdering don' 'round ere, I don't mind telling ya.
[Gorgeous George not coming inside with them]
Mrs O'neill: Is the big fella not coming with us?
Tommy: Nah, he's minding the car.
Mrs O'neill: What's he think we are? Thieves?
Tommy: No, nothing like that, Mrs O'neill. He just likes...looking after cars.


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