Guy Ritchie

Tommy waited for an entire hour. The room wasn't any clearer than the barely illuminated street outside and the last month newspapers on the floor led him to conclude the house was being used as a hotel for beggars.

All of the sudden, a pair of lights hit his eyes and he knew the next minutes reserved dark moments. Tommy got out while the black Bentley was pulling over. The back windowpane was slowly lowered and a harsh voice coming out of the car said something like "how was it tonight?". He had no time to think straight and the answer that came out of his mouth was the most honest but not the wisest one.

- Better.

The mysterious voice added:

- "Better"? You better do better than "better" next life.

The windowpane got up again and a black man came out of the front passenger sit shooting an israeli Uzi against Tommy's layed body.

The engines were restarted and the Bentley got away leaving another dead welsh bastard on the wet english ground.