Guvnor Quotes

Mace leaned on his shovel and did a passable imitation. "'I think we'd rather not.' Very good, guv'nor. I'll remember that next time." "Divigation was nice. Where'd you get that one?" "He swallowed a ****ing dictionary," Corporal Nettle said proudly.

Clovenhoof looked at the man critically. He wasn’t what Clovenhoof regarded as a proper plumber. This young man’s jeans were secured with a belt above the bum-crack line, there wasn’t a cigarette poking out of the corner of his mouth or tucked behind his ear and, when he spoke to Clovenhoof, he didn’t address him as ‘guv’nor’.

The guv’nor will have him on toast,” was an opinion generally held. “He’s just emptied his kettle on a basket of rattlesnakes.

We got our own system," said Bill. "Anything more than three quarters of a man and we bring him in. Less than that, we give him a cigarette and keep his morphine for some other poor sod. Funny thing, but they don't seem to feel the pain when they're that far gone." "Funny business all around," said Archie. "Cigarette, guvnor?

Are you going to come quietly, or do I need to haul you out of here by the scruff of your neck like a recalcitrant schoolboy?” Vincent hissed at Lydia. She looked to the duke and duchess for aid. They seemed amused by the earl’s ire. Lydia’s fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t want to go quietly to anything. Vincent seemed to sense her reluctance and seized her arm with bruising force, following the duke as he dragged Angelica from the despicable hovel. She glanced back at Rafael Villar, and he favored her with a smirk before his amber gaze flicked to Vincent, and he nodded as if in approval. Angelica had been right; he was a scoundrel! How had he been able to notify Ian and Vincent of their whereabouts? A sodden bear of a man grabbed her. “Don’t be a spoilsport, guv’nor. Let the lad stay.” Vincent’s fist slammed into the man’s face, dropping him like a stone. Lydia gasped. She had never seen him this angry. He appeared to be fully capable of dispatching everyone else in the club with little effort. What did that bode for her? The rest of the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and Lydia, along with Angelica, was pulled out of the building with no further incident. The waiting coach crouched like a sinister beast in the shadows. Lydia tried to pull away. “Struggle one more time, and I will throw you over my shoulder and haul you into the carriage myself,” Vincent growled. His eyes glowed, looking feral in the moonlight. She swallowed a protest and climbed inside, shivering at the feel of his hand on her back. “Well,

There were about 20 pikeys surrounding this bloke who looked like he should be in a cage. I swear he was 6ft 8in and about the same across. His boat had been shifted around so often he didn’t look human. I whispered to Kenny. ‘Hope you got a better deal than 500.’ He said, ‘We’ll walk away with two grand from this one. He ain’t as tough as he looks.’ I said, ‘How do you know?’ I just got that big grin again. ‘I don’t, I’m just trying to cheer you up.’ We all moved back away from the flashing lights of the rides, and they formed a large ring. No formalities, no bell. Just, ‘Go on, boys.’ I steamed straight in putting all my weight behind four or five solid belts. Every “one connected on his arms. I tried to come up under and do his ribs in but I couldn’t get round those massive arms. It was like he was holding sandbags up in front. He threw a couple but his eyes gave him away before he even started to swing. I tried again. Bang. Bang. Bang. This time I got through and put a nice split in his forehead; good bit of claret. Then he grabs me, pins my arms to my sides, and nuts me full in the face, trying to get his teeth into my nose. I could smell his breath – a mixture of shit and beer. I brought my knee up into his sack and he let go with a surprised look on his bloody face. Got you now, you bastard. I slammed into him, but he’d got those fucking great arms up and I’m punching sandbags again. Round and round we went. I had him sussed now. He’s not a fighter, he’s a steamroller. He wanted to tire me out then drop 20 stone on top of me. He’s got the right idea; I’m knackered. It’s dead quiet except for faint music from the fair. No one was cheering encouragement, just a ring of brown faces watching us both with cold eyes. Kenny’s looking worried. Fuck it. I shouldn’t have looked round; he’s caught me with a right-hander full in the side of the head. My head’s ringing, I’ve gone deaf on that side and now I’m really pissed off. This has gone on for long enough. I had to take a risk. I turned my back on him, raised my arms in Kenny’s direction and said, ‘When are you going to ring the fucking bell?’ At the same time, I spun round and, as I’d hoped, the big animal was so surprised at me turning my back he dropped his arms. Everything I’ve got went into a straight punch to the heart. He fell backwards and down like a falling tree.

What have you brought?” “Groceries, guv’nor.” “Namely?” “Um …” I hadn’t a clue. “All sorts, guv’nor. Would you like to inspect them?” “A list will suffice.” Drat. “Very well, guv. Um, we’ve got boxes, we’ve got tins—lots of tins, sir—packets of things, bottles—” The eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound very specific.

I always tell the boys to steer clear of women, don’t I, lads?’ ‘Yes, guvnor.’ Young Nibbs puffed out his chest with pride as he repeated the mantra. ‘Women are the tools of the devil. They’re sent by Beelzebub to distract a good mason from the straight line ’e’s carvin’.’ ‘The only good woman is the one carved in marble

A billionaire senior manager stood up and said, "We are giving this special award to Vladimir Leonidovich Bogdanov." Bogdanov, the CEO and a billionaire too, got to his feet, accepted the award, and began reading his report: We have extracted this quantity of oil. We have made that huge amount of profit. Eventually, the host of the event stood up and asked, "Are there any questions?" Three hundred fifty shareholders sitting in the auditorium remained silent. "Does anyone want to say anything?" Silence. I raised my hand and told him, "There is something I want to say." The look on the young host's face suggested a flying saucer had landed in the hall with little green men emerging from it. It was obvious that in all his working life he had never before encountered anyone who wanted to say anything. "Fine," he said eventually. "Please come forward." I went up onto the stage and said, "There is an oil-trading company called Gunvor. It is owned by Gennadiy Timchenko, a very close friend of Putin's, and you sell your oil through it. Why was it chosen? Was there a tender? If there was, which other companies took part? How much oil do you forward to Guvnor, and what are the terms? I am demanding these explanations because at present everything suggests that the company's profit is simply accruing to Gunvor, and because of this shareholders are not receiving the dividends due them." To judge by the expressions of those sitting on the stage, little green men not only had landed but were now firing their ray guns while tap-dancing. You could read in the eyes of those onstage that they were wondering where I had come from. "Had he been sent by the Kremlin? The FSB? How dare he publicly accuse them of corruption!" I spoke with extreme courtesy, peppering my speech with legal terms. I followed up my question about Gunvor by demanding to be told who the real owners of Surgutneftegas were. It was widely known that as of 2003 the company had been publicly identifying only ordinary shareholders in its reports, presenting an incredibly convoluted scheme of corporate ownership from which no one on the planet could deduce who actually owned this gigantic oil enterprise. While I was speaking, there was absolute silence in the auditorium, but as I went on, I could see people becoming animated, first of whom were the journalists. It was part of their job to sit through these incredibly dull meetings, but now, for the first time in living memory, something besides the predictable was happening and things seemed to be livening up. Next, the shareholders showed signs of life. At first they just stared at me in bafflement, trying to work out who I was, but then they realized I was just an ordinary person like the rest of them, except that I was not afraid to get up on the stage. When I finished, the audience applauded. That was a moment to treasure, a triumph and a mind-numbing moment when I knew that now I really was battling corruption. I started attending all the shareholder meetings. Before they began, the main topic of interest to the journalists was whether Navalny was there. Everyone loved watching a battle between David and Goliath. I would put up my hand, and start speaking, and the company management would look sour because there was nothing they could do to stop me. Of course, they did not answer any questions. They could hardly say, "You're right, Alexei. We're thieves just like Putin." Their response was, "Thank you for raising such an important issue. We will look into it." Of course, nobody in the hall expected them to say anything meaningful. Far more important was the fact that someone was asking questions.