Gangster No. 1 Monologues

Chronicles the rise and fall of a prominent, and particularly ruthless English gangster.

And you, Mr. Freddie Mays, you had to go swimming in her eyes. Dancing in her hair. You had to slip into her mouth, slide over her tongue. Fall down her throat, deep down into her belly. Right into her blood. You had to fall asleep wrapped around her beautiful, beating heart.

One day I'll catch up with you. You want a war? I'll give you a fucking war one arm tied behind me back. I'll shoot you - blow you to kingdom come. They'll need a dustpan and brush to scrape you off the walls. Make mincemeat out of ya. Pie and mash, puddles of blood. I'll leave you lying there. Go rot, the lot of you. Calling me a cunt?

Rip your face off. I'll fucking… I'll, I'll fucking… burn ya.

Freddie Mays. Freddie Mays! I don't need ya, Freddie. Who am I?

I'm Superman! King fucking Kong! I can pick you up and throw you a million miles. I'm number one. Number fucking one. I'm number one. Number fucking one. Number one! Number one! Number one!

Number one! Number one! Number one! One One One One! Number fucking one! I'm number one.

What? With Scotland Yard breathing down me neck? Fuck off. Do me a favor!