The East End gang boss had always been very careful whom he employed, for fear of being grassed up. He thought he'd been really clever with his crooked accountant who was deaf and dumb. There wasn't much of a risk that he would overhear too much. However, it eventually dawned on the boss that someone was stealing money from him. A lot of money. And it didn't take long for him to discover it was his crooked accountant.
"Benny," He ordered. "Get that bastard down here pronto and get Marty to come with him. He understands sign language."
Later in his office, the boss started interrogating the accountant. "Marty, ask him what he's done with the money."
At first the terrified accountant signalled his ignorance of the theft but when a gun was put to his head, he spilled the beans. With rapid hand movements, he explained that he'd hidden all the money in a trunk in an old derelict factory, two miles from the office.
"So what did he say?" demanded the boss, impatiently. "It's no good, boss," replied Marty. "He says you haven't got the bottle to shoot him, so you can go and get fucked."
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