The Duke: Don't you fucking talk to me like I'm some kind of mug. Don't you fucking talk to me like that.
XXXX: Duke, don't take this personally. It's business. Now, you want to know how much these pills are worth?
The Duke: Yes. Fucking. Please.
XXXX: Now just because you pay a fiver a pop down the local cattle market, don't, for fuck's sake, think these pills are worth millions. They're not. We've got to find someone to buy these pills and they've got to split them into parcels, of say 100,000. They've got to find these people. It's hard work.
The Duke: Oh, you'd give a fucking aspirin a headache pal.
[Dragan is threatening XXXX over the phone.]
XXXX: Dragan, I've got an idea. Why don't you come round for breakfast? I'll squeeze some orange juice and grind some coffee and we can talk about this like adults. How does that sound?
Dragan: Sounds very hospitable.
XXXX: Do you know where I live?
Dragan: No.
XXXX: Well fuck off, then.
[Hangs up.].
Answer: Because the logo's a car registration plate and a number fits that structure better than just letters.