It's a bit like musical chairs, except when you're out, you get a bullet in the snout, or where you pout, or just anywhere really, they're not too fussy, although it must get a little messy, with all the blood and guts and bits and stuff. It's amazing anyone has the nerve to sleep, as round every corner an assassin seems to peep, I mean you can't get by without a bit of kip, but knowing the mortal coil could at any moment slip, I think I'd be inclined to make a runner and disappear, but they always seem to find you, or so it seems to appear, but I reckon I could make a good escape, put on a cape, a mask, a wig, maybe grow a beard and moustache. At least I wouldn't be perpetually attending a funeral every week, or maybe every day, twice a day - you just don't know how lucky you are!!!
I fondly remember Edward G. Robinson films being better than this, Jimmy Cagney even, George Raft was the best mob villain by a country mile.
