Two men enter a shop. Guns are on display all around in perspex cabinets. The windows have thick bars across them. One of the men approaches the counter.
"Err... Cannae have a bullet pal?"
"What? You want one bullet?"
"Aye. How much?"
"Well they tend to come in boxes of varying sizes, not singly. Anyway, what sort of gun is it for?"
"Err.. One that gaes bang when you pull the whatsit. What sort d'you think? You some sort of numpty?"
"No sir. What calibre?"
"Ah, it's bloody great. Very high calibre indeed I'd have said. The very finest calibre known to man."
"You don't own a gun at all, do you?"
"Course I do. Why would I want a bullet if I havnae a gun?"
"And why do you want just one bullet?"
"Look, are you gonna gi' us one or no?"
The shopkeeper reaches under the desk and switches off the cameras. He takes one 9mm bullet from a loose pack and places it on the counter.
"Gi' us five quid, take that, fuck off and never come back in here again."
A few doors down, the men enter a post office.
"Can I have an envelope?"
"Aye, how much?"
"Well, what size sir?"
"Jaysus. Don't you fucking start. I had enough trouble wi' the lad down the road. Just gi' us a fucking envelope eh?"
"The smallest pack we do is twelve, standard letter size, for a quid sixty."
"Aye, OK. Gi' us that.
So, youse are some top post gadgie then eh?"
"I suppose so, sir, yes."
"And you know all the addresses round here?"
"Well, they're all in that big book over there. What of it?"
The man looks around, leans in conspiratorially.
"Gi' us Neil Lennon's eh?"