Joe

I'm just an ordinary joe.

Name me a joe in a bad country ... who doesn't fall for a pretty face if she's on his side against the world.

Soviet troops were permitted to enter the American sector, where they could easily capture and torture an agent to confirm the existence of a Joe house, then cripple American espionage efforts by kidnapping a nest of spies in one fell swoop.

Then Hapgood turned him into a joe — that is, he works for the British.

Lamb didn't look any different, was still a soft fat rude bastard, still dressed like he'd been thrown through a charity shop window, but Jesus, River thought—Lamb was a joe.

I have seen doubloons before now in my voyagings; your doubloons of old Spain, your doubloons of Peru, your doubloons of Chili, your doubloons of Bolivia, your doubloons of Popayan; with plenty of gold moidores and pistoles, and joes, and half joes, and quarter joes.

Guineas, joes, half joes, doubloons, and pistoles of various origin constituted the gold currency, while the silver was mostly the Spanish American dollar and its fractions: the half, quarter, eighth, and sixteenth, with the pistareen and half pistareen.

In the olden time the currency, you know, was a l^([sic]) in gold and silver, joes, half-joes (Johannes), pistoles, moidores, doubloons, pistareens, ninepences (12+¹⁄₂ cents), and fourpence-half-pennies (6+¹⁄₄ cents) or “fippenny-bits.”