Peaky Blinders 2×3

Episode #2.3

Campbell: Do you read the papers?
Moss: Birmingham papers.
Campbell: I recommend the Daily Mail. It will broaden your mind.

Tommy: Good. Write your address down for Finn on your way out.
The Digbeth Kid: I can't write.
Johnny: That's all right, Finn can't read.

Arthur: Oh, I don't know, Tom. Kids these days.
Tommy: They didn't fight. So they're different. They stay kids.

Tommy: Well, you're here now, son. Welcome to the Shelby family.

Tommy: Go home, Bill. Round up any good men you trust and put the word out. Black Country boys and Brummie boys are on the same side again.
Billy: That'll be the bloody day.
Tommy: Well, this is the bloody day. London, man. There for the taking.

Tommy: Yep. You're Polly's son all right.

Alfie: That Tommy Shelby, mate. Never give power to the big man, what did I tell you? Never give power to the big man.

Alfie: There are fucking rules here. Yeah, there are fucking rules for a fucking reason. Quite simply they have to be obeyed. All right? Rule number one... The distinction between bread and rum is NOT DISCUSSED!

Alfie: Rule number three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, I don't care. For the rest of your fucking miserable, measly lives, yeah? Because I, like you, am also a complete fucking sodomite. Jewish women. You do not go anywhere near them because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu. I think that's fair... All right, that's it, yeah. Forgive me, I interrupted.

Ada: Tommy Shelby never goes anywhere for no reason.

Tommy: What's up, Charlie? Business is good.
Charlie: This isn't business, this is bloody work.

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Campbell: Are there any other Irishmen lodging in this house?
Landlady: No, Mr Campbell, I keep a respectable house. With your special exception, I have no Irish here.

Sabini: Regular customers betraying us for profit. You'd think they'd be loyal to us. But profit, you see... comes before race, creed and family.

Sabini: Why would you want me to say that out loud?! Is there somebody listening?

Campbell: I only wanted proof, not satisfaction. Or indeed infection.

Polly: 1,000 guineas on a horse?!

Tommy: Pol... a good racehorse is an investment, like property. We need to diversify the portfolio.

Polly: I have told them not to blow that horn... This is a respectable fucking neighbourhood!

Auctioneer: I'm curious. What is your business, Mr Shelby?
Tommy: Import/export. But I also sell pegs and tell fortunes.

May: Thomas Shelby from where?
Tommy: From Birmingham.
May: Goodness!
Tommy: No, not much.

May: What is it you do?
Tommy: I rarely answer questions, is what I do.

May: You still didn't tell me what you do...
Tommy: Oh, I do bad things. But you already know that.

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