No heathen black devils with gold spots on their face. I give 'em the slip.
Bill:
Well done, Albert.
Sniggers: [after a sigh of content]
Why didn't you tell us?
Albert:
'Cause 'e won't let you speak. 'E's got 'is plans and 'e thinks we're silly folk. Things must be done 'is way. And all the time I've give 'em the slip. Might 'ave 'ad one of them crooked knives in him before now but for me who give 'em the slip in Hull.
Bill:
Well done, Albert.
Sniggers: