There you go, Ruth. There's your cut. Five percent, that's sixty grand. Back to my place.

Sixty-thousand pounds. Not much for what I dreamed up.

Well, it's fifteen grand a nipple. Ha ha ha, it's not bad.

Five percent of what he's getting... he's a rich boy, isn't he?

Don't worry, there'll be more. It worked, that's all that matters. He's in his element.
This is just the beginning. Tours, TV, toot and tarts. Back where we belong: on top.
And no more letters. At least he's finished with all that.