[narrating]

Now there was a problem with pikies or gypsies...

What're ya doin' here? Get out of the way, man. [babbling and speaking quickly]

[narrating]

...you can't really understand much of what's being said.

You Tommy? Come about the caravan?

Mr. O'neill.

****, man. Call me Mickey.

[narrating]

He's not Irish, he's not English...

How are ya?

Weather's been kind, [starts babbling].

[narrating]

He just well, ya know, he's just Pikey.

[Gorgeous George gets out of the car]

**** me! Would you just look the size of him? How big are ya? Hey kids, how big is he?

Big enough man, fo sure.

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.

Get outta the way, Mickey. See if these fellas'd like a drink.

Oh, I could murder one.

Be no more murdering don' 'round ere, I don't mind telling ya.

[Gorgeous George not coming inside with them]

Is the big fella not coming with us?

Nah, he's minding the car.

What's he think we are? Thieves?

No, nothing like that, Mrs O'neill. He just likes...looking after cars.