John Fisher, the head jailer and best of a rotten lot for his colleagues would dearly love to do me in and save the hangman a job, says there's a gentleman who needs to take a likeness of me, one of the other turnkeys having brought a broadside in with a picture of Willie Burke on it and didn't they get him to the life, the neat, dapper little figure of him like somebody you'd willingly marry your daughter to instead of Beelzebub's nephew.