Буду кидать сюда цитатки про близнецов Крэй. Это ж чудесно.

The twins and their world were fascinating.


‘I always dressed the twins the same. They was such pretty babies. I made ’em both white angora woolly hats and coats and they was real lovely, the two of them. Just like two little bunny rabbits’


‘Look at Reggie, Mummy’s darling. Sweet little angel, ain’t ’e?’
At other times it was necessary to get him into trouble. This wasn’t difficult either. Reggie was no angel, whatever Ronnie said, and Ronnie knew exactly how to handle things. He knew quite well that in a fight Reggie would always back him up and always rise to a taunt of cowardice.


‘Ronnie was a fighter,’ says one of the men who trained him, ‘the hardest boy I’ve ever seen. To stop him you’d have had to kill him. Reggie was different. It was as if he had all the experience of an old boxer before he started. Just once in a lifetime you find a boy with everything to be a champion. Reggie had it.’

* вот это вообще прелесть )

Before the corporal could explain what was so special about the Royal Fusiliers the two recruits in the identical blue suits started walking towards the door.

The corporal stopped. He was not the man to take nonsense from recruits but had never faced a situation quite like this before.

‘And where might you be going?’

The twins paused, faces expressionless except for a faint but identical raising of the eyebrows. ‘I said, where d’you think you’re off to, you lovely pair?’
One of the twins spoke then, as quietly as if telling somebody the time.

‘We don’t care for it here. We’re off home to see our mum.’ They continued to walk towards the door.

The corporal felt the two boys were trying to make a fool of him, and grabbed one by the arm. There was something strange about what happened then. Violence is usually accompanied by some

sign of emotion but the faces of the twins remained expressionless. There was a thud. The corporal staggered back against the wall, holding his jaw – and still unspeaking, still unhurrying, the twins, in their dark blue suits, walked down the stairs and out across the square where the ravens perched and the last of the afternoon sightseers was being shown the spot where Queen Anne Boleyn lost her head four hundred years or so before.

Ronald and Reginald Kray of the Royal Fusiliers were back at Vallance Road in time for tea.


From the start he knew the importance of reliable intelligence about the enemy, and took trouble picking up facts about rival gangs. He had a following of small boys he used to meet in a cafe in the Bethnal Green Road. He was developing a taste for teenage boys, but these also acted as his ‘spies’; he used to send them out to watch a house or club, or follow someone and report back to the hall. Payment was strictly by results. He used to call the boys ‘my little information service’.


If the twins wanted action it was soon clear that no one else did.

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