So what’s the problem Mr B-Man!
Please call me Butcher, Boss, as your father did. I got your email about the Irish situation, the kid downstairs printed it out for me. I just don’t think I can do this, you know the baked goods and all.
But B, it’s a brilliant idea – creepy like the Joker from Batman you know – craaazy and scary. Send your nemesis something you knows he likes, cupcakes, iced with a threatening note – it’s fucking brilliant.
I don’t think the Irishman’s gonna get it Sir. You know his niece is living down on the south coast – we know some boys down there – we could leave a bloody-clear message like your dad did in ‘86.
We’re not gang-bangers Mr B; show some class. My dad said when it comes to intimidation you were the man. “The only guy who can get a severed horse’s head on short notice in New York city” – he often said that. Now are you still that man or not?
Yes Boss; for the family; if it is the new way; I’ll find us a friendly baker.