MOLL: Right, Bert. The idea is to cosh the old geezer with a bottle when [bad word] out the boozer.
BERT: What! He's a bit big, ain't ‘e?
MOLL: You turning yellow in your old age, mate.
BERT: Well, I’m getting on, ain't I. There's safer ways to make a living. I think I'll give it a miss and go out with my barrow tomorrow.
MOLL: Here, what about me? I have to make a living too, don't I. I'm skint and I ain't got no barrow. We made a deal, you bleeding perisher. 
BERT: Blimey, Moll, stop your whining. You sound like my trouble and strife. Let's go in and have a pint of wallop.
MOLL: Not on your life, mate. I'm off. And [bad word] round asking me no favours.
BERT: Suit yourself, pal. I'm off to the battle [bad word] for a gunga din.