A tale of the "Hose Nose"

Ever notice how among friends insults become indicators of affection or respect? Like black people calling each other the "N" word? (See, I can be sensitive even though I don't necessarily agree that it is necessary). I was thinking of a friend of mine, long lost to time, named Bob Pell. He was from Scranton, Pa. and brought many tales of that town to Miami. The mix of friends was pretty diverse, and the names we called each other were no doubt insulting sounding to outsiders but were affectionately applied. In the group we had an Italian, a couple of Jews, an Atheist, a Cracker (couldn't tell you what ethnicity he was, only that he was white with lots of freckles). a Polish guy and a German guy (who were also Catholic, thus providing yet another target). The usual epithets flew around the poker table without insult. Bob's nickname was "hose nose" and indeed he did have a prominent protuberance. But the Cracker had a bigger nose and no one even thought to mention it. We called him "Tiger" or "Wino" or just plain "Wine" (Not whine, never). Bob was also called "Nick Pelligrino" , not in an attempt to disguise his Jewish heritage, just to make him more of a gangsta, I suppose. None of us were really gangstas. Another guy was called "Micro" because he told us he had a small dick. We never actually saw it, so maybe it was small. But he was OK with the moniker.
One day somebody asked Hose Nose a deep philosophical question and before he could answer someone said (in a deep prophetic voice) "Who knows what the hose nose knows. (here there was a pause then said slowly) Speak- - - beak." We laughed to tears and from then on "Speak - - - Beak" became a regular part of the patter.
Bob could also spell sounds very convincingly. Make a sound, like a burp for instance, and he would spell it so you could actually reproduce the sound from the word. A genius.
I have often been reminded of these friends and our teasing and often wondered if in later life any of them remembered the great line of sagacity. I also wonder if any remember those days as being brimming with insults, or of comradery like I do. And I wonder where Tiger, Nick, Micro and the rest are.
My nickname? Oh no. I'm not that dumb. (OK, Don Juan, OK?)