John is engaged in underground fighting. Several times a month, he fights in the octagon with the toughest opponents.

You have experience in ultimate fighting. You recently moved to London and immediately went to the place where all this filth is happening. A man with a warhawk and a bruise on his cheekbone sits in the corner of this basement hall, counting a large wad of cash. He notices you and immediately strictly says:

"Naw. Tae young. Gie yersel' a regular job, lad."