Orangefinger Murder in Successville

Hi, I'm Louis Smith and usually I'm an Olympic gymnast,

but today I'm going to be a detective.

I don't know who's been murdered,

who the suspects are or what's going to happen to me.

Wish me luck, I'm off to Successville.

This programme contains some strong language

Welcome to Successville, a town full of celebrities.

Sometimes the famous faces who live here break the law,

and when they do, I'm here to take them down.

Around here they say detectives are like toilet plungers -

no-one thinks they need one until they do.

I'm DI Sleet, Homicide,

and this is my life. Take it or leave it.

Actually, would you mind leaving it?

It's the only one I've got.

I was asleep, dreaming I ran a successful dog-walking business

and one of my regular customers was in, complaining.

-Wake up!

-I didn't touch her.

This is a police station, yes?

Not the San Francisco doss house for enormous fucking layabouts!

-I've got you some fresh blood.

-Like it.

Oi, rookie, inside, quick as you can, please.

-Hi, Sir.

-Hello, how are you?

-I'm well, thank you.

-Yeah? Good. This is DI Sleet.

He'll be taking you under his big, hairy, sweaty bingo wing,

but don't get too comfy, because sooner or later,

you're going to have to learn to walk on your own two bollocks.

-You savvy?

-I'm good, thank you, yes.

-Good.

-I feel good today.

-I'm glad to hear it, Chief. Take a seat.

So, Louis Antoine Smith. Been reading your CV.

It's pretty cool. Done a lot of shit in your life.

-Thanks.

-But guess what?

You ain't made of paper and ink.

You're made of flesh and bones and fingers and hair and semen.

True, very true statement.

Can I keep this for my records?

Yeah.

-It's a nice picture.

-Thanks.

LOUIS LAUGHS

Where's that black roll-neck from?

Zara.

Really nice bit of kit.

So, are you in good shape now?

I work out regularly, yeah. I think so.

Do you think you could beat me in a press-up challenge?

-Probably.

-OK, I like this.

Let's do this, kid, let's go head-to-head. Are you ready?

How many are we doing?

205.

OK.

You count.

One. Two. Are you OK?

-I actually feel a bit of numbness in my left arm, is that right?

-Um...

Oi, you two, stop sitting in a tree K-I-S-Yes-I-N-G

and get down to Forensics double quick, there's been a murder,

-yes? Lindsay Lohan.

-The pharmacist?

The pharmacist.

Damn it, she was a contestant in tonight's beauty contest

that I'm honoured to be a judge on.

Well no-one's going to any beauty contest, yes,

until this murder is solved!

Young man, don't let me down, I've high hopes.

Oh, ooh, ooh!

Looks like school's in and it's double history time.

But instead of double, it's single.

And instead of history, it's murder.

Are you ready for this?

Yes, sir.

Then let's go solve a crime.

Time was of the essence.

We hot-tailed it to Forensics to see pathologist

and all-round desperate loser, Richard Hammond.

SLEET WHISTLES

Here, boy. Hammond?

Richard?

Sleet! Hey, how are you doing, my great drinking buddy?

Great to see you.

Look at him, walking in here like six foot of brilliant.

-Amazing, great to see you.

-Hey, what are you doing?

Well, just kissing, French kissing. Hi...

-No, no, this is not a kiss picnic.

-Right.

-This is a murder case.

-Yes, of course it is.

Good. We're here about the murder of Lindsay Lohan.

Yes, er, Lindsay Lohan. Murdered last night.

-But that's a hell of a tan she's got on.

-That's right.

Ah, he's only gone and spotted the actual murder weapon.

That's how good he is. Star detective. Yes?

-Bloody star champ.

-Yep, thank you.

-Bloody champ man.

-OK...

-The champon-iser.

-All right, yes.

Yes, the Equaliser. Bloody Sherlock Holmes, yes?

Yes, well, I like to think so, yes.

Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Spotted it.

-Thank you very much.

-You're like Hercules Poirot.

-Listen...

-What?

-Stop doing that.

-What?

-Comparing me to other fictional detectives.

-Right.

-I'm an actual real-life detective.

-Right.

A detective that goes out and solves crimes, that detects things.

Your joke only works if the person you're talking about

-isn't a detective. OK?

-Right.

When you do it about me, it's quite offensive.

Right. Oh, damn it! Bad, I'm a bad dog.

Bad dog man. In your bed! Blooper alert, whoop!

Rewind, selecta.

HE MURMURS HAPPILY

God, I'm a bad man, aren't I? I'm a bad man.

-No, you're just a...

-Bad man.

Are you finished?

Yes. Anyway, the tan was the murder weapon,

sprayed head to foot in some kind of poison.

OK, we'd better be off. We've got a murder to solve.

-Come on, kid.

-Look, just before you go,

this footprint was found at the murder scene.

That's a size nine. Shoe Zone, DIY boot.

I know it anywhere.

I'm a genius at guessing people's shoe sizes.

It's my top five talent.

-You're lucky to be working with this guy.

-Yes, he is.

Right, so is that something to do with the murder case...?

Yes, it is. Now, I've got a theory, I've got a theory.

Don't get annoyed. This theory is that this murder

is linked to another two cases last week.

-OK.

-Yes.

So we're looking at a serial killer.

This is the file.

Kid, read it for me.

"Previous reports on spray tan murders.

"Paris Hilton and Amy Childs were found dead in Vladimir Putin's gym."

-Interesting.

-"They were both due to appear in the beauty contest."

The beauty contest that I'm...?

-Judging.

-Because I'm...?

Well respected in beauty judging.

Thank you, Louis, that's very kind of you.

Right, take that with you. Let's go solve a crime.

See you, Sleet.

He's a strange guy.

First up, Vladimir Putin, one touchy son of a Tsar.

Since the steam room murders, he made his gym men only.

He seemed a lot happier that way.

A LOT happier.

Guys, that's it for this session.

Next up, three-hour wrestling session. My favourite, OK?

So, go get your bodies ready.

And remember what I told you, you must oil the entire torso.

Go! Go, go. Now, come on.

Hop to it, dick flick.

Well, well, well.

What have we here?

It's like an amateur production of Of Mice And Men.

Squeak, squeak!

Very funny, but we're not mice and we're not men.

We're cops. Get that, butt-head?

Don't call me butt-head, please.

That's your name, isn't it? Vladimir Butt-head.

Is that written down somewhere?

-Didn't you hear his name was Butt-head?

-Da.

I know, duh.

What's that? Is that a joke that you two have made up about me?

Yeah, duh, duh.

-You know what this is?

-Oh, yeah, I know what that is.

That's you, right there, that's what you are.

Big one of them.

Super immature.

I'm sorry, we've got some questions for you. Haven't we?

OK. Slow down, Mr Eager Beaver.

Are you not going to introduce me to your friend here?

-Oh, yeah...

-What's her name, hmm?

-Excuse me?

What's your name? Feisty one.

Detective Louis Smith.

So, Louie, I'd ask if you go to the gym, but clearly you do.

-What do you describe yourself? Like, a gym bunny?

-Hey!

-Want to do some...?

-Hey!

-Do you want to do...

-Hey! Hey!

We haven't got time to stand around here talking about

what kind of gym guy he is.

I'm the judge in a prestigious beauty contest.

I'm a judge in the contest too, Sleet,

-don't get your...knickers in a twist, OK?

-How, why, what...?

I'm just talking to Louie, my new friend. More than friends.

Wha...? Wha...?

I'm not answering any of your questions until I get

a little time talking gym talk between me and this guy, OK?

So be it.

Why don't you go and use the machines? Do your wife a favour.

(Listen kid, I want to have a little look around,

(see if I can find some evidence.)

Hey. Alone at last. Talk about playing gooseberry.

OK, let's just drop all this serious stuff

and play tag wrestling.

You ever played towel tag?

Can't say I have.

I'll do mine, show you what... And then I put this in.

Move your arms, or I'm not going to be able to stick it

down your trousers.

Good lord!

Well, you certainly are a big gymnast.

On three, try and get the towel off me. One, three!

We're doing questions after this, right?

For sure, yeah. Whoa. Whoa.

Are you going to get my towel?

PUTIN LAUGHS

I win.

So much fun. OK, let's do it again.

-1-0.

-1-0.

I can't believe I'm being beaten by a big girlie gymnast.

This time, when you grab it out - if you do -

you can take it out a little bit slower.

You know, like slowly and look me in the eye.

Do I need to look you in the eye?

Do you want to?

It's getting a little bit odd. It's a bit strange.

OK, ready? Go again!

Slowly, do it slowly.

Well done, 2-0.

Can I have it back, please? I made a mess.

Do you want to hug it out, this?

You win, but everyone wins in Putin's Gym.

(I'm very lonely.)

That steam room's disgusting.

LOUIS CHUCKLES

Disgusting men.

Impressed?

I'm impressed that you're still alive.

Your cholesterol must be through the roof.

Sleet, you're like rear end of dog -

all business and horrible when I touch them.

Well, you know what I believe?

I believe you're a scum-bag who's going to answer some questions.

Er, what size shoe are you?

Er, 44 European size, why?

Next question.

Can you please explain why two girls were found,

fully spray-tanned, dead in your gym?

Women!

Silly, vain creatures.

Only concerned with their waistlines and how deep their tans are.

How I despise them.

They were dying to get skinny and tanned.

If you ask me, they got their wish.

You know what they say - you can't please all of the people

all of the time, but you're pleasing none of the people none of the time.

Ah!

You're lucky I don't pound the shit out of you

right in front of him now.

Luckily for you, Russians have...

-Don't touch my arm.

-Listen...

-Oh!

-Don't forget who you're talking to.

-Look over there, there's a squirrel!

-Where?

THEY GRUNT

Take your hands off me!

Come on, count to three!

One, two, three! Whoo!

Sleet!

My man!

Yeah. You just got owned.

Help me, Louis.

Hey! Let's get out of here.

I won't forget this, Sleet!

Was there any need?

There's always a need. Hey, here's one for you.

I used to be able to jump through the windows of this car.

Those days are long gone.

So kid, how are you finding your first day?

It's actually really cool.

-"Cool?"

-Cool.

-"Cool?"

-You know, you get into the police force because you think

it's going to be cool and it's going to be fun and stuff, and it has.

But I feel like we're on the right track.

Yes, but I don't think we're in the region of being "cool."

Well, I think we're cool. We're... We're cool.

Let's leave the "cool" talk to the bars and nightclubs.

LOUIS LAUGHS

You're a trickster, aren't you?

I'm a what?! "A trickster?"

I'd like us to get on as buddies and partners.

But let me tell you...

..if you keep on acting up and being "cool",

I'll see you run through.

-Got it.

-Good.

Enough of this, let's get out of here.

Smith had found his cajones.

Would he be such a smart-arse with the next suspect, Kim Kardashian -

psychopath, killer and contestant in tonight's beauty pageant?

"Kim was put in a psychiatric institute for the criminally insane

"after having been found guilty of killing five people

"because she thought they were prettier than her."

She'll play ball if you're as nasty and as evil as you can be.

Are you OK with that?

I'll put my street voice on. I can be a bit thuggish sometimes.

-What you talking about, bruv?

-Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

-No, no, no, no, no.

-Those shoes aren't Chanel.

What was the clicking thing?

Being a diva. I've seen it on a television show, I think.

Well, you're not on TV now, Smith.

I know. OK.

This is a murder case,

and I really urge you to take it a little bit more seriously.

-Head in the game.

-Exactly.

You going down! I'm in.

Listen, that sexy psycho will eat you for breakfast.

There's enough of me for lunch and dinner.

Well, isn't somebody someone else's biggest fan?

No, I'm just saying, you know...

Oh, I know what you're saying.

I'm a big guy, she's a small girl, she can't eat all of me.

Let's just get the information we need.

Yes, let's do that, Smith, and stop larking around.

-OK.

-OK?

Listen, the main thing to remember when you're in there -

don't cross the red line, whatever you do.

Now go solve a crime, Louis Smith!

Hey, Kim.

I have a few questions for you.

What are you looking at me all weird like that for?

SHE WHISTLES Excuse me?

No.

I can smell your penis.

I did shower this morning.

Does it like me?

I don't know, you'll have to ask it. I mean, er...

Do you like me?

-Do you like me?

-Kim?

Can you look at me here, please?

Do you think you've got what it takes...

..to pump me?

It's, um, it's a question that... I'm asking the questions here.

KIM LAUGHS Not you.

I only meant for information, you naughty, naughty boy.

Can you concentrate, please?

I want you to rate me on a scale from one to ten.

Like on a website? Yeah.

Zero.

OK. Zero.

Zero.

KIM SOBS

It's the wrong answer, you, asshole! I won't be criticised!

-Louis, get out of there!

-Your face is my face! Oh, my God!

-Get out.

-You think you're prettier than me? I have a brother!

I'm going to tear your fucking...! Argh!

Wow. Wow, wow, wow.

Wow, wow, wow!

Well done, Smith.

She needs some serious help.

That's why she's here with two big guys

putting her in a straitjacket.

Hey kid, let's turn it round. Go nice.

-Be lovely, Louis.

-Yeah.

Lou-Lou Bear.

That's more my forte.

-Oh, is it?

-Yeah.

I'm coming in there with you.

You obviously can't be left alone with a serial killer right now.

I need the back-up.

Take a seat, kid.

It's OK, kid, you can cross the red line.

I was just yanking your pisser about that.

-How are you?

-I'm sorry I'm not pretty enough for you.

-You are pretty.

It's just so hard to stay beautiful when you're locked-up all day.

-I can understand.

-Yeah.

-But you look great as it is.

-Oh! You're like my sister.

-Yeah.

You know, me and my sisters, we always kiss.

We always kiss. Always.

-Do you?

-Yeah.

Are you my sister?

I think so... Um, yeah...

-Oh!

-Ahem, sorry Kim.

Hey, hey, what's that all about?

All the flirting. Don't forget where you are.

Remember, you've crossed the line.

But you said I could cross it.

(I said you could cross this line, but you're crossing another line.)

(So, not a real line?)

(Not this line, this line you're fine to cross.

(There's two lines, metaphorically.)

Sir, I'm getting really confused by your mixed messages.

-I'm...

-You said don't cross the line, then you said I could cross

the line and now you're saying I am crossing the line and I shouldn't...

I'm saying you're... Listen, OK?

In your head, I want you to imagine two lines.

One's this line, the other one's this line.

This line you're more than welcome to cross, jump over it all you can.

The other line... (Told you no.)

-OK.

-Sorry, Kim.

One question.

One question. After we've kissed.

Sisters.

-Sir?

-Well, you're going to have to kiss her now.

You've started a whole kissing trade thing, haven't you?

There you go.

Can't be leaving work with lipstick on.

Well, maybe you shouldn't have started kissing, that sounds fair.

That's certainly true.

Where were you at the time of the murder?

Where was I?! Oh, my God!

Let me think. Hmm... Oh, yeah, I remember.

I was on day release.

Oh, I needed a little bit of me time, you know,

because um, this place, it drives me crazy.

So I took a walk along the beach, just me and the sand.

But I didn't enjoy it.

Why not?

No-one was there to see me! No-one!

Not anyone, I was on my own!

KIM SOBS

Not even one photograph!

I was on my own!

OK.

Where's my sister? I want my sister!

Uh, thank you for your time, Kim.

Hey, imagine being married to that.

Do you know what? She reminds me of my ex-girlfriend.

Ha-ha. That's what we call in the station "banter". Come on.

Our final suspect was Russell Brand, a fancy dan businessman

and organiser of tonight's beauty pageant.

Like a man walking down Dogshit Alley, we had to tread carefully.

Oh, welcome, welcome,

roll up one and all, I should reckon as like, to the Brand Emporium.

Hello, Russell. We're here about a crime.

Oh, where are my manners?

This is my new partner, Louis Smith. Louis, Russell Brand.

-Nice to meet you, Russell.

-Nice to meet you.

Yeah, that is my name, whatever that means.

And this is me shop. Consider me a picker-up of unconsidered trifles

and me lowly dolly shop an home for flotsam and jetsam.

OK, big dick, we have some questions.

No, you only think you do - right? -

because you've been brainwashed - ain't you? - by the state.

It's wormed its way into your head

and making your brain work all funny.

You don't need nothing, mate. No, you don't.

If you wanted to, you could burn all your clothes

and live on an island for nothing, mate.

Well, I don't want to burn my clothes and live on an island.

-No?

-Are you aware there's been a spate of murders in town?

-Yeah, I did hear something...

-PHONE RINGS

Hold up, it's only the dog and bone, ain't it.

I shall be with you in just a mo, sure as eggs is eggs,

sure as I'm standing here, sure as the sea is blue.

-Hello?

-God, that guy's a creep.

Yeah, it is.

But don't allow the man control you simply by the use of a moniker.

Yeah, it is Russell Brand and yeah, it's tonight.

As a matter of fact, one place has just come up, as luck would have it.

It'll cost you five grand, mate.

Are you seeing what I'm seeing, kid?

Yeah.

Dodgy character.

Yeah, all right, mate, I'll see you tonight. Good luck.

Love you, love you!

Listen here, this beauty pageant of yours

is becoming quite a deadly affair, wouldn't you say?

It's a dreadful business and no mistake.

I loves them girls, loves them like they was me own.

None of them deserved to be spray-tanned to death, mate.

Well, considering it's only the police that know that

the women were killed by the spray tan,

how would you know, considering we haven't mentioned it today?

I've got my ears to the ground, mate.

Listen, Brand, you wise-cracking piece of shit,

you're officially a suspect in a murder case.

Are you pointing a finger at me, mate?

Are you trying to say that I've got dirt under me fingernails

and the shadow of crime hanging over me?

Because if you are, you need to think again, mate,

because I can take away your place on the panel

if you think there's foul play at work, mate.

Please don't.

The pageant's all I have.

My wife's left me and my kids aren't talking to me.

I'm living in the back of someone else's car.

The pageant's the only thing I've got left to look forward to.

I'll tell you what, Sleet, I won't gives away your place on the panel.

You can keep it, right?

But I've got to put the finishing touches to me contest.

Now, get out of me shop. Shove off!

We'll be on our way.

We'll see you later, at the beauty pageant

that I'm still a judge on, right?

-Absolutely, Sleet, don't you worry about that, Sir.

-Come on, boy.

That evening, we got a mysterious call from Lily Allen,

reporter for the local rag.

She had some creamy intel about the case.

We headed over to meet her at the abandoned library.

# Georgie Porgie... #

It's creepy, bruv.

It's weird, huh?

Somewhat therapeutic.

Yeah, it's got its own tone to it, I've got to say.

# Killed the girls to make them... #

Lily! Sweet Lily.

It's OK, Lily. We're here.

What did you want to tell us?

The killer. I knew I was onto something,

-that's why they tried to kill me.

-OK.

I can tell you who it is, I think...

OK, tell us, wait there.

Lily, Lily, hold it, save it a moment.

Save it a sweet moment. I've got my trusty pen.

A funny story about this pen. I got it when I was 18.

-You know, never run out of...

-Sir? Sir, she's dying.

Oh, I'm sorry. Listen, I'll write it down here.

-Lily...

-Oh, the killer...

-Lily, wait there.

-Why...

Wait there. What the hell is this? "Poppin's Restaurant."

Sir, she's about to break the case!

Louis, give me a sweet second.

I can't remember for the life of me where this is from.

-Sir!

-Dalton...

Louis, don't you shout at me!

She's bleeding and she's about to help us!

Yes, I know, and I'm trying to remember where this receipt is from!

I'd write it on the back, but then it voids the receipt completely.

-Sir, we have not got time for this.

-Sleet, the killer...

Wait there. Lily, Lily, Lily...

I'm going to find some other paper to write on, OK?

Give us...give me a second.

Is there anything I can do?

The killer, let me tell you who the killer is. Come close.

I knew I was onto something...

Wait there, wait, wait, wait, wait. I want in on this.

It's OK, Lily. Hey, wait there.

This is an original Moby Dick. How often do you...?

-No-one cares about Moby Dick right now!

-Listen to me!

What do you mean no-one cares?! Wait there, wait there, Lily.

This is an original piece of work!

It's a Moby Dick.

How often have you seen that? An original piece of literature...

-Sir...

-It's an important part of our history.

I'd rather wait for the film to come out with Chris Hemsworth.

There's... Oh, is there a film with Chris Hemsworth?

Is there a film with Chris Hemsworth?

-There is, Moby Dick...

-That's very interesting.

-It's beside the point, we're about to break this case.

-Yes, we are.

-We just need the name of the killer.

-Yes, we...

-Sleet...

-Lily, I'm with you, I'm with you. Louis...

-Grr, I'm the killer!

-Killer!

Do you remember when, "I am the killer!"

-Sleet, Sleet, the killer!

-OK. Lily, yes Lily, tell me!

It...

LILY GROANS

You are unbelievable. You just wasted a good amount of time there

where we could have got the killer.

-Shall we go?

-Yeah.

-Good stuff.

Oh, God, poor Lily.

Come on. She's starting to smell.

I think she's probably voided her bowel.

All roads led to the beauty pageant. Present, our suspects -

Putin, Kardashian and Brand.

For Smith, it was his most dangerous role yet.

Time to go undercover and catch a killer.

Welcome to this final round of this cavalcade of magnificence,

beauty and pulchritude.

Feast your lamps on these two dollymops. Kim Kardashian...

..and Fiona Brush.

SOMEONE WHISTLES

Good, isn't it? First up, Fiona Brush.

Over to the judges.

Ms Brush, you find a million pesos in an old suitcase.

-What would you spend it on?

-Oh, good question.

Thank you.

Probably Mr Vladimir Putin.

Come, you'd probably get him for £5.

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Well, you won't win the competition through being flattering.

Well, you might.

No, you won't, it'll be done through judges marking you accordingly.

Oh, there's a question from Kim Jong Un.

"What is the sexiest animal?"

Excluding you three fine judges?

Oh, isn't she something?

I would have to say a white unicorn.

Sorry, that one was wrong.

I have one more question.

Imagine, if you will, that you'd been working as a police officer,

trying to track down a serial killer.

That case had led you here, to this beauty competition.

Imagine further, if you will, that there was a trained sniper

in this very room, ready to rain down bullets upon the said killer.

Who would the killer be?!

Hypothetically speaking.

Vladimir Putin.

SCREAMING

Calm down! Calm down, everybody.

Relax, Kim, relax, everybody.

Relax, now.

Calm down. You know who I am?

-AUDIENCE MEMBER:

-Who is he?

Yeah, Sleet, I'm with Successville.

-I've never heard of you.

-What?

I'm from Successville. Murder Squad.

I'm also a judge on the panel, so...

This is my partner.

I'm officer Louis Smith.

Explain why the killer was Putin.

Well, for me, Putin had a military boot which was found

at two of the other deaths during the week.

Also, he hated women with a passion, and suspiciously enough,

two other women were found dead in his steam room

with a spray tan. Was that all right?

Yeah, that's brilliant. Everybody, your hero!

SMATTERING OF APPLAUSE

And may I say, one gorgeous-looking lady...

-Thank you.

-..who I think would have won the competition.

-Stop it!

Oh, God, not again!

-Ah, here he is.

-Wow!

Who gave the order for Putin to be shot?

Mr Louis Smith.

What are you wearing?!

Disguise, Sir.

Louis Smith, congratulations,

you've made a horse's cock of this investigation.

The killer was Russell Brand. Of course it was Russell Brand.

Yes? Why?

Because he was organising this beauty contest, yes,

so that he could charge contestants an entrance fee...

It'll cost you five grand, mate.

..and then bump them off one by one so that he could get richer.

And you might also have noticed in his shop...

was spray tan.

You were supposed to be looking for somebody with size nine feet.

It couldn't have been Vladimir Putin, because he was...

44 European size.

..which is a size ten, you dicks!

You're fired!

Where is Russell Brand?!

He must have escaped in the fracas.

He's the killer, for Christ's sake!

Oh, God, you make me sick!

Why am I so weepy all the time?

Oh, well, kid, you win some, you lose some.

That's just life, I guess.

But you know what?

I spy with my little eye two Kims.

Fancy a night out?

-Definitely. Which one do you want?

-I'll bagsie that one.

Come on, let's go. Come on, sweet cheeks.

Hey, you, I hope you like blondes,

you cheeky little creep.

By the way, my dress stays on tonight.

Oh, you bet it does!