- Aberama Gold: Mr. Shelby! Come to talk purse for the fight.
- Alfie Solomons: [to Tommy] Your kestrel? Hm? Tommy, when a pikey walks in with hair like that, you gotta ask yourself, "Have I made a mistake?"
- Aberama Gold: Who the fuck are you?
- Alfie Solomons: Who the fuck am I?
- Aberama Gold: [to Tommy] Who the fuck is this?
- Alfie Solomons: I, my friend... I am the uncle, and the protector, and the promoter of that...
- [he jabs his cane at Goliath]
- Alfie Solomons: ... fucking thing right there, in whose shadow nothing good nor godly will ever fucking grow. That there, right, is the southern counties' welterweight champion. He is of mixed religion, therefore he is godless. He was adopted by Satan himself before he was returned out of fear of his awkwardness. But he's impossible to marry off due to his lethal dimensions. His mother, terrified, she's fucking abandoned him. And there he is, stood before you like the first of some brand-new fucking species! Any man that you put before him, right, it'd be like entering a fucking threshing machine, mate. Now, will you offer your son?
- [tense pause; Aberama turns to Bonnie]
- Bonnie Gold: [confidently] Name the day, Mr. Shelby.
- Thomas Shelby: I'm not a traitor to my class... I'm just an extreme example of what a working man can achieve.
- Alfie Solomons: All right, the problem, right, between rum and gin, yeah, is that gin, right, it leads to the melancholy, whereas rum incites violence, you know? And it also allows you to be liberated from your self-doubt. Now, I hear you're probably more in need of the ol' rum at the moment rather than gin, mate, hmm?
- [a bird flies past]
- Alfie Solomons: Oh, dear, Tommy, you've got fucking starlings, mate, you know that? That shit'll rot your pipework.
- [he pulls out a pistol]
- Alfie Solomons: These bastards only understand one language.
- Thomas Shelby: It's all right, Alfie. No need. It's all right, I'm, uh, I'm getting a kestrel.
- Alfie Solomons: I hear that you've got Italians, mate. You got a kestrel for them and all?
- Thomas Shelby: Yes. I'll have a kestrel for them, as well.
- Alfie Solomons: Well, everything is confirmed, innit? Yeah, weakness behind the eyes. Didn't blink too much, all right? You smell of smoke, and coal, and horses. Hmm? You are back where you belong, Tommy.
- [Tommy pours a glass of gin and hands it to Alfie]
- Thomas Shelby: I know you don't touch it, but you have a good nose.
- Alfie Solomons: Right, well, you gotta ask yourself seriously, though, you know, did I even want to piss and shit indoors, or was I actually born, you know, to defecate in the fields and the outhouses? This is a serious issue, though, Tommy, you know? 'Cause your people, your class, and my religion is quite similar actually, because you just cannot wash it out, right, because it, it come out your mother's tits.
- [he dips a finger in the glass, sniffs it, and puts it under Tommy's nose]
- Alfie Solomons: Hmm. No. The Americans want it sweeter.
- Alfie Solomons: What have you heard, Alfie?
- Alfie Solomons: I heard a cop got shot. Who shot him?
- Thomas Shelby: My kestrel.
- Alfie Solomons: Right, oh, up the stakes, very good.
- Thomas Shelby: Where are the Sicilians?
- Alfie Solomons: They're still using Sabini for vehicles and for places to stay.
- Thomas Shelby: Mm-hmm. And reinforcements?
- Alfie Solomons: Ah, no, they're Sicilians, aren't they, they don't trust nobody who ain't fucked a goat on the morning of their first pubic hair, they've got traditions.
- Thomas Shelby: How many are here?
- Alfie Solomons: Eleven. Enough to drop a man who wrapped his balls in an O.B.E., 'til they fell off.
- Thomas Shelby: The real question is, Alfie... which side are you playing for, eh?
- Alfie Solomons: [chuckling] Fucking hell. What kind of world is it to bring up children when your own mate can ask you that question, eh? But the truth is, Tommy, you're gonna be fucking dead soon, yeah? And then your starlings, right, they will peck out your blue eyes, won't they? And the jackdaws, they will steal your gold and your medals, and pretty soon it'll be as if you never even fucking happened, mate.
- Thomas Shelby: Good morning Alfie.
- Alfie Solomons: Yeah, it is, it is. Why is everybody in fucking bed?
- Aberama Gold: The copper's alive, got a description of the Italians, the Italians will be forced underground. We're gypsies, we're already underground.
- Thomas Shelby: So is this why you came here? All this way in person, for my fucking signature?
- May Carleton: You... have lost your wife, and now your brother too. I thought it would make you different, but it doesn't seem to change you. Nothing seems to change you.
- Thomas Shelby: I'll pour you some gin that I made myself. My father's recipe. Distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness.
- May Carleton: I'll book myself a room.
- Thomas Shelby: Already done. At the Midland, a suite. I stay there myself sometimes.
- May Carleton: Sometimes that's where you stay?
- Thomas Shelby: [with a wry smile] But not tonight, it would seem.
- Aunt Polly: Men don't have the strategic intelligence to conduct a war between families. Men are less good at keeping secrets out of their lies.
- Arthur Shelby: In the end, it's God who pulls that fucking trigger anyway. We don't get to decide who lives and who dies.
- [Luca's car is stopped at a roadblock]
- Policeman: There's been an accident.
- Luca Changretta: Well, why don't you move it out of the way?
- Policeman: What?
- Luca Changretta: I said, why don't you clear it so that we can get past?
- Policeman: What's that accent?
- Luca Changretta: We're Americans. We're here on business, so...
- Policeman: Well, you're going to have to wait.
- Luca Changretta: [under his breath] Jesus Christ, this guy...
- Policeman: We waited for you fucking Yanks until 1918. It'll be clear in 20 minutes, all right?
- [he walks away]
- Luca Changretta: Yeah, all right. Thank you, officer.
- [under his breath]
- Luca Changretta: Big fuckin' help.
- Matteo: [in Italian] 1918? What the fuck is he talking about?
- Luca Changretta: Talkin' 'bout the war. Everything here is about the war.
- Ada Shelby: He wants to take you for dinner.
- Jessie Eden: I really have nothing to wear.
- Ada Shelby: You'd need to wear boots. He's suggesting dinner in a scrap metal yeard. Said you'd appreciate the sentiment.
- Alfie Solomons: Fucking hell, it smells of pig round here, don't it? Definitely not kosher. Come to Small Heath, you will go to hell... for fucking breathing.
- Lizzie Stark: Just read my leaves, Pol.
- Aunt Polly: Already have. Plain as day.
- [Takes the bottle of whiskey out of Lizzy's hand]
- Lizzie Stark: What are you doing?
- Aunt Polly: Stop drinking whiskey. Switch to stout.
- Aunt Polly: Where is he?
- Lizzie Stark: Fucking.
- Aunt Polly: Fucking what?
- Lizzie Stark: Fucking her.
- [waves May Carlton's cheque in the air]
- Aunt Polly: [Looks at the cheque] Ten thousand pounds?
- Lizzie Stark: She left it blank, so I filled it in for her.
- Charlie Strong: Italians north, Italians south... He makes gin to take his mind off being stuck inside a prison.
- Thomas Shelby: So tell me the truth.
- May Carleton: The truth? You're unlike any man I've ever met.
- Thomas Shelby: And the gin?
- May Carleton: Too sweet.