Dave Shilling: I don't know anything about a bank robbery. Honest.
Lew Vogel: Still an unconvincing actor, Mr. Shilling.
Wendy Leather: So, come on then, what don't I know? Romantic dinner on Monday night?
Terry Leather: Look honey, I'm going to be working some strange hours over the next week or two, so don't ask me what I'm doing because I don't want to lie to you.
Terry Leather: There's another problem. This robbery's pissed off some local villains.
Tim Everett: The guts come with the glory, eh?
Terry Leather: One of our mates has been killed.
Tim Everett: Hardly surprising considering the roster of reprobates that are the safe deposit box customers. Listen Terry, our commitment is for the recovery of the royal portraits only. The proceeds and the piss-offs are both yours to deal with.
Terry Leather: These people aren't regular cozzers, Martine. They're above that. They do things coppers can't. They think we've seen these photos, and we're expendable as dog shit.
Lew Vogel: Don't take me for a fool, Michael. You instigated this calamity by storing your blackmail materials in this bank.
Michael X: Which you recommended! I will not be lectured by the porn king of Soho. Get my pictures back, or you will never see a black man on the streets of London without wondering if he's been sent to kill you.