Father Bumjoy was packing for his Duck Lake ballet production overseas, and his youthful company was hard at rehearsal.

When they meet their counterparts in the Philippines a whole new world will open up for them….

Sure, father, sure. I get the message.

How can I help you ?

Do you know a man called Dr Phil?

Certainly, he is called Doctor Philanthropy round here.

Well, right at the moment he’s missing.

Missing?

Sure, father, he is missing two million smackeroos.

Father Bumjoy hurriedly closed his safe.

I can account for everything, Mr Barlowe.

Sure, you will be very accountable, father.

At that moment Mr Big and The Lady in Red burst through the door.

At first they did not see me. They were after Father Bumjoy with a vengance.

You double-crosser! You fink ! After all we’ve done!

Drawing my biretta and three pairs of cuffs I told them to cool it quick smart.

Look at it this way folks this is a time for reflection.

It begins today. You’ll have at least ten years in a nice quiet place to reflect on your misdeeds.

As for you Father Bumjoy do not forget the Gospel.

The Gospel?

Sure, Father, from it we learn that the Gospel should produce fruit.

But no nuts.

I love you, Barlowe, not as a PI, but as a MAN, she called as the cops led her away.

Quite frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn.

Art’s Bar And Grill was looking pretty good to me………….

THE END

In Mr Big’s case, however, closer inspection reveals that he is different, and also plain repulsive. The plug ugliest man in Griffith had come to Leeton to enjoy a little singalong from yours truly and that wow dame, that little number in red.

It’s not good to end a singing gig on a bum note, but it could not be avoided, I had to speak to him.

He fired the first verbal shot.

You’re real cheap, umbrella man, he said. You wanna watch it – people can get lost , disappear – poof! – just like an umbrella.

Ten cents a brolly, pal…

Say you do not look good, Barlowe. Maybe you should see a priest. You cannot be too careful. We do not know when our end is nigh. La Morta could be just around the corner – for all of us – for you.

True enough, Mr Big, a couple of your low life pals tried to feed me a lead breakfast.

Yes, like I said, Mr Barlowe, you need spiritual guidance.

I produced my flask of JB.

Here’s mine.

He’s right, however. Seeing a priest would not be a bad idea at all.

One driving a red sports car……

CONCLUSION COMING SOON!

Being careless is a mortal sin for a shamus….

You learn fast and you learn early in this business.

I thought of all those people who died ‘under the arches’ in the old days so that swine like Mr Big could live.

Flanagan & Allen would have detested people like him…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3cBmfJEVn4

The Dame, however, only had eyes for me as she sang. She looked like the sort of prize you would win if you won three straight lotteries in a row.

The eyes of all Leeton were on this baby as she warbled:

Listen, big boy,
Now that you got me made,
Goodness, but I’m afraid,
Somethin’s gonna happen to you!
Listen, big boy,
You gotta be hooked, and how,
I would die if I should lose you now!
Button up your overcoat,
When the wind is free,
Take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!

I mean what was it with this broad that she could capture your heart like someone slapping a mosquito….

I shrugged out of my trench coat, pocketed my biretta and donned a boater, tap shoes and cane. There’s something about Johnny Mercer that is pure magic. Not that he can compare with Mahler.

Eat an apple every day,
Get to bed by three,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!

Some dames just captivate you with their gaze. This one never took her peepers off me as she continued:

Wear your flannel underwear,
When you climb a tree,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!

Then I noticed someone sitting in an alcove of the ‘Troc’.

Mr Big had come to town…….

Don’t sit on hornet’s tails, ooh-ooh!
Or on nails, ooh-ooh!
Or third rails, ooh-ooh!
You’ll get a pain and ruin your tum-tum!
Keep away from bootleg hooch
When you’re on a spree,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!

For the Singing PI this was going to be a tough case to crack. I would have to crack a few nuts.

To Be Continued.

Large man: You missed the warbler, sonny-jim.

Small man: Nobody’s perfect, you know.

Large man: You missed him. We’ll have to take it to the Top.

Small man: Which is?

Large man: We do not know.

Small man: We do not indeed. Perhaps we are only padding.

Padding is important, my friends. Ask any PI. But it can make you fall into an easy sleep, make you drowsy so you miss the obvious. Like I say, the obvious may take a little time…

Am I right, or am I right?

As the shooters drove off, I decided that dame needed another visit from Barlowe, PI.

If there was singing, it was about time she joined in the chorus.

TO BE CONTINUED…

I still like to keep my hand in.

Use it or lose it, pal…….

Am I right, or am right?

The couples were swaying in Leeton’s Trocadero to the music of Sammy Fain and the lyrics of Irving Kahal and Francis Wheeler as I opened the tonsils…

They looked like they were tuckered out on Doris Day, and needed a lift. They needed to start smiling and start living.

I let them have it:

Just let a smile be your umbrella,
On a rainy, rainy day . . .
And if your sweetie cries, just tell her,
That a smile will always pay . . .

That’s when I noticed the pair of wise guys near the entrance….

They went to the bar and ordered, but the small man did not take his peepers off me. Sure, they were only padding in life’s upholstery, but sitting on a broken spring can do you enormous damage.

I signalled the band and switched to a Flanagan and Allen song, still on the umberella theme:

Toodle-uma-luma-luma
Toodle-uma-luma-luma
Toodle-aye-ay
Any umbrellas, any umbrellas to mend today…..?

I eased the biretta from my pocket.

Pow! A bullet whizzed past.

The Leetonians were screaming and running for cover.

The two Pad-Men ran out of the entrance with me in pursuit, hotter than hotter.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Isabella in her Green Porno educational videos demonstrates that a Prawn, or shrimp, changes sex and sheds its shell before making love.

http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=Isabella+Rossellini&search_type=&aq=f

The Prawn Men are Coming?

Will the recruitment drive to pay Taliban soldiers not to fight be a success?

It was only a matter of time before they got on my trail.

Two guys in trench coats and fedoras in a red sports car, and with suspicious bulges in their pockets.

Such low life may only be Padding in Life’s Opera, but they can be very harmful to a PI’s health.

I swung into Acacia Avenue and climbed a tree. Strangely enough it was an acacia.

The sports car roared by. One large, fat guy and a small feller, who had pulled out his shooter.

I found I was sharing a branch with a Leeton sulphur-crested cockatoo.

It awoke and began to sing: Barney Google, with the Great Big Googly Eyes.

It must be a National Party parrot, perhaps its mascot.

I climbed down, got into the Peugot, pressed on the loud pedal and headed for the Trocadero Dance Hall in Pine Avenue.

Time to face the music, pal. And if you hit the wrong note, it could be curtains for you…..

To be continued……..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95aP0OWx4jY

Sure, this dame was good looking, but what was she cooking?’

What was in the oven?

Was Mr Big the chef, not at a fish-fry, but a cremation?

To be continued…..