A Murder in Ye Olde Successville Murder in Successville

Hello. I'm Martin Kemp,

but today I'm becoming a cop in a live murder mystery.

Now, I haven't got a clue what's going on here.

No script, nothing.

All I know is I'm about to solve the very first murder in Successville.

Wish me luck.

Welcome to Ye Olde Successville -

a bustling hamlet full of celebrities.

Alas, sometimes the famous faces that live here break the law,

and when they do, I'm here to muster justice,

for I am Ian Desmond Sleet, a lowly mutton shunter.

Come plague, fire and death, I will rain down justice upon thee

like a giant cloud of good.

This programme contains some strong language and adult humour

-Chief.

-Where the Dickens have you been, you nincompoop?

I sent for you hours ago.

Well, Chief, I decided to spend some of the guineas that I earned

down at the mackerel track on some new threads and a penny-farthing.

Sleet, there's been a horrific crime, I'm afraid.

Goddammit, what's happened?

Has a young boy been caught scrumping apples?

A fair maiden has had a snuffbox removed,

or maybe a gentleman has had his neckerchief half-inched?

-I'm afraid it's a lot worse than that.

-What could be worse than that?

There's been a murder, Sleet.

-A murder?

-Yes.

-In Successville?

-Indeed.

-Our first one.

-Yeah.

My God, the moment we've been waiting for.

You ghoul. I haven't been waiting for it.

-Well, I just...

-It's a dolly mop.

-What?

-It's Victorian slang for a prostitute.

See also, rantipole and dirty puzzle.

-Right, OK.

-She's been butchered by a fiend.

-Damn it, Goddammit.

-I've already set things up for you.

Rookie!

What the hell? What are you kidding? Look at this guy.

-This is your assistant, Sleet. How are you doing?

-I'm good.

-You're looking good.

-He does look too good, actually, for this time.

Listen, I'm putting you two together.

Yes? You're going to be working foot by mouth, and cheek by jowl,

out on those streets, yes? Umble-cum-stumble.

-Right, got it.

-What does that even mean?

It's Victorian slang, you dickhead.

What did you say your name was?

Martin. Martin Kemp.

All right. We have got a crime to solve, Kemp.

Let's do it, then. I'm ready.

-Then let's go solve a crime.

-Let's do it.

Kemp, walk behind me.

Don't try and walk faster than me.

I'm the fastest.

All right. Let's see what we've got here.

-Oh, dear.

-Pull the thing back.

-Oh! Rita!

-Do you know her?

No, no, I can just imagine that probably her name is Rita.

I mean, that's the sort of name the prostitutes have, right?

-You've met her before?

-No, I've seen her around a few times.

I'm going to take a few notes here.

What do you mean you're taking notes?

Well, I'm just taking a few notes.

You don't take... You take notes about the body, you don't...

-I am, that's what I'm doing.

-All right, good. You made me feel all...

-like you were casting...

-How long have you known her?

What? Don't ask!

Look, I actually admire the fact you're asking questions, Kemp.

But I'm not a suspect.

Right. Let's have a look for clues, then.

What is that by her head there, that red thing?

-Let's have a look. What have we got here?

-What is that?

We've got a handkerchief.

That looks like it might have chloroform on it. Give it a sniff.

What are you doing, you idiot?

That's a test. Of course you don't sniff a chloroformed handkerchief,

you fool, you buffoon! You jeffsy!

Get up to your feet at once.

Oh, look who it is.

Finally, someone who talks sensible.

My old buddy, Connor McGregor.

Hey, McGregor. How are you doing?

-Put it there.

-I'll not be touching that.

Now, what are you two chancers doing here on my crime scene tainting it?

-What was your name?

-My name's Connor McGregor.

I'm the greatest pathologist pound-for-pound on this planet.

-Well, that's actually quite...

-How do you spell McGregor?

What? He's a pathologist.

He's not a suspect.

Is this guy for real?

He's just making some notes.

Sorry, who are you, again?

Des Sleet. I work for Successville... I'm a police officer at Successville...

-You've known me for years!

-I found this!

What have we got there, Marty?

-Let's have a look.

-OK, what's this?

-"You betrayed me."

-"You betrayed me."

-What's that, Martin?

-"To-do list."

She's going to hand in her notice as a wench,

and she wants to do Will.i.am...

-HE LAUGHS

-Ross!

-Martin, hold it together, mate.

-Do you think this is funny?

-No, he's just...

-This prostitute's had her heart ripped out.

Oh, has she? So she's definitely dead.

I'd take time of death sometime between nine and 10pm last night.

Martin, this is actually the clues and this is the only time

you've not been scribbling anything in your notebook.

-No, you hold on to that.

-What do you mean, you hold on to that?

-I'm distracted!

-Make a note of that, Kemp.

-All right, presumed dead.

-Not presumed dead - dead.

-All right...

-She's had her fucking heart ripped out.

All right, I don't know if that's going to kill you.

-You're the expert.

-What do you think would happen if I plunged

my fucking hand into your chest

and ripped your beating fucking heart out and ate it?

Do you think you'd fucking die?

Well, I think it would be painful. I'd probably say...

-Jesus.

-God, you're so uptight.

Now, was she dead when you arrived?

Are you fucking kidding...

me?

Hey, can I just ask one thing?

Is it OK if we get a picture just with us and Rita?

-Yeah, let's do it.

-Now, that I can do for you.

I'm uncommonly proud of me new-fangled camera here,

so you boys get there and you pose for me, lads.

Right, that's nice.

What about Rita? Shall we get Rita in?

Now, Kemp, you're going to have to keep still while I expose the film.

Don't smile.

-No-one smiles in pictures.

-What are you doing?

-Martin was smiling.

-Are you trying to get a rise out of me, rookie?

-I'm not trying...

Keep your fucking mouth shut or your mouth will come out

all fuzzy in the picture. Do you not understand?

Jesus wept!

You have to stay fucking still while I take the fucking...

-I'm staying still now!

-It's an old fucking camera!

It takes two to three minutes.

Just stay fucking in your spot and stay fucking still.

Well done, Kemp, you've wound him up now, he might beat us up.

Oh, my... If I have to come over there, I'll put you both

on your arses. Now stay still.

I am coming to the end of me fucking tether with you.

Do you think this is funny, Kemp?

There's a prostitute dead on the floor.

She's had her fucking heart ripped out. She's dead.

This camera's old.

Jesus wept.

-You've really ruined this for me.

-Right, fuck it.

-When I have my picture taken...

-Shut the fuck up.

-..I smile.

I'm going to do a picture, I'm going to draw it

and I'll send it to you in the fucking post, boys.

-Now get the fuck out of here.

-Right, right.

-Fuck off.

-I always smile when I have my picture taken.

-Well, you don't...

-Thank you very much.

-Go!

Connor is the most popular person at the whole station and you've

made me look ridiculous in front of him.

'We headed to The Juicy Wench,

'a three-star brothel run by Paloma Faith.'

OK, here we are, The Juicy Wench.

All right, listen. We're going to be a pair of local hard men.

-Yeah.

-By the name of the Neville brothers.

-Right.

I'll be Gary, the cool, suave, sophisticated, handsome brother.

You can be his buffoon younger brother, Philip.

-You all right with that?

-Yeah. I'm Phil Neville.

-You're Gary Neville.

-Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right, are you ready?

-Yeah.

-Face on. Phil face on.

-So this is The Juicy Wench?

-This is The Juicy Wench.

Hey, you lot.

Hey! You bunch of scalliwags and fiends.

We are the brothers Neville.

Me, Gary, the stronger, wiser, cooler man.

And my brother Philip who isn't any much as good as I am.

Well, well, well.

If it isn't gangland hard man Phil Neville,

and his freak show brother Gary.

Well, par...

Come to sample our wares, have you, Gary?

Well, we do offer a diversion for every perversion.

What have you heard? I'm not a pervert.

Oh, come now, we've all heard about you.

Pig fucker!

LAUGHTER AND HECKLING

Sheep shagger!

-What do they know about you that I don't?

-Nothing at all.

I've got no idea what's happening here.

Sure I can't tempt you with something a little harder?

Well, what could be a little harder?

Oh, our prices are very reasonable. It's thruppence for a salty shuffle.

A gummy gargle's thruppence. Thruppence for a parson's finger.

And what if you want a bit of all three?

Basically, everything's a thruppence

whether it's a service or a cocktail.

Now, they could be the other way round, I don't know.

It's hard to tell when you can't read or write.

But basically, everything is a thruppence.

-Apart from the bot bot.

-I'm sorry, what is bot bot?

-Do you know what bot bot is?

-No, tell...

-Oh, come on, Gary.

Don't tell me you don't know what the bot bot is.

Pig fucker!

HECKLING

-I don't know what bot bot is.

-Do you shag pigs?

I do not shag pigs. How dare you.

You pig shagger!

-That is it. That is that.

-Get your hands off me, Gary.

You all think I'm some kind of sick weirdo.

I, indeed, am not any kind of pig-fucking pervert.

By God, I'll show you how much I like...

Come here you...

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm-mmm.

All right.

That's what I'm talking about.

That's the kind of honey I like.

-All right, Sleet.

-Jesus Christ!

Urgh!

Gah! Urgh!

Urgh!

-Lowcroft!

-Yeah.

Sid fucking Lowcroft. What are you doing here?

I'm undercover, aren't I? I'm working on that drugs case.

-Keep your voice down.

-What drugs case?

Oh, we finished that case about four months ago, you idiot.

-What?

-I wish someone had told you.

-Ah.

Just the one hour tonight, Carol...

-Come on.

-Give them the time of your life.

Have one on me, old fellow.

Do you know a young girl called Rita?

-Rita?

-Mm.

-Of course I do.

Tell me when was the last time you saw Rita.

Oh, God. Rita, Rita, Rita, I don't know.

-When was the last time you saw her?

-She was in her last night but we had

a bit of an argument, didn't we?

She was on about leaving, setting up on her own.

So I told her, no, I'm not having that.

Business is business. What now, Gary?

Nothing, I'm merely ear-wigging.

Well, don't.

Who was she with last night?

She was in here with one of her regulars.

Who was the regular?

It was a regular. He was a nice man.

He looked like an intellectual type.

Jesus, Gary, your breath smells like a pig's arsehole.

LAUGHTER AND HECKLING

It's not pig. I have acid reflux.

LAUGHTER AND HECKLING

Something on my belly doesn't sit right.

Listen up.

I'm Phil Neville, and this is Gary.

(Well, that figures, the pig fucking thing makes complete sense.)

Now, I have it on good authority that someone in here

has been going around saying they are the Neville brothers.

And I want to know who it is.

Well, well, well.

Looks like we have some impostors in our midst, Gary.

It seems you boys have been masquerading as the Neville brothers

and we're not happy about it.

No, we said we are the Breville brothers.

We are the Breville brothers from Germany.

-We don't like the Breville brothers.

-Right, which brothers do you like?

We've got a lot of beef with the Breville brothers.

-All right, well, that's not us.

-So, which brothers are you?

The Clarke brothers. Would that be OK?

We killed the Clarke brothers a couple of weeks ago.

All right. Well, what about the Rafael brothers?

-Carol, what are you doing here?

-Jesus Christ, Lowcroft!

You mean you've been moonlighting in this shithole?

Is this a relationship?

This is my girlfriend, Carol.

Jesus. Really?

-Yeah.

-I mean, this is your girlfriend, is it, Philip?

This is your girl?

I've got a little surprise for you.

You see, this is actually a guy.

A guy by the name of Sid Lowcroft.

Tell me this isn't true, Carol.

-I'm sorry, I can't.

-Oh, this is so confusing.

I want to kill you.

-I just want to stroke your face but...

-I wouldn't touch it.

-No, don't do that.

-Enough. Gary, hold him.

-What?

-No, no, no, no.

-Listen...

-I'm going to rip your throat out.

-Martin, leave it.

-I'm going to rip your knickers down and I'm coming for you.

-What?

-No.

-How did you get this dress?

-Sleet!

Don't worry, Sid, I'll tell your family your story.

Oh, just get out!

'Rita had scrawled two names on her list.

'First up Will.i.am. A scientific genius and my nemesis.

'We'd crossed swords many times before.

'Actual swords. This is the olden days, remember, folks.'

-Will.i.am.

-Will.i.am?

No, Professor.i.am cos you can never hope to be this dope,

Inspector S to the L to the double E, T.

-What does that even mean? What did you just...

-Oh, you look a little thinner.

-Yeah, I've lost weight.

-You been eating your beetroots?

-What?

-Beetroots?

-I don't like beetroot.

-Have you been beating your meat?

-Why do you always talk in these weird little rhymes?

Hey, man, who is this handsome hombre?

-Martin Kemp.

-Martin Kemp, huh?

You know, you put some full stops in there and you could be this dope.

What about me? If I put full stops in my name could I be dope?

No, man. I'm not talking... Hey, brother, down low.

-My G!

-Oh, let me get involved with this.

What's up?

You are too slow, ho.

-That's stupid. It's a silly game.

-Can I fix you fine fellows some refreshments?

-I would love one, yes.

-Lovely.

-Martin will go without.

-Why? Why?

-Cos it's your first day.

I got... I got some... I got some...

-There you go.

-What have we got here?

-Try that.

-Chloroform or truth serum.

You think I'm stupid enough to drink truth serum, do you?

-Or chloroform?

-You can't drink this.

Yes, but then also I know that i.am knows everything that there is

to know about me. Thus, probably switching the bottles,

putting the chloroform in the truth serum,

the truth serum in the chloroform.

Meaning that I shall drink from this bottle.

-Dammit.

-Don't drink that.

It's fine.

-That is chloroform.

-I like this guy, he's really smart.

Oh, God. You know what I'm thinking about right now?

Having sex with my cousin.

That's disgusting. Martin, this is your partner, man.

Listen. Martin, Martin, listen. That was definitely truth serum.

-I need you to be alert.

-You leave it to me.

No matter what, do not tell him the victim of this murder was an IC2

-called Rita.

-Rita was murdered?

-Why would you think that?

-Because you just said it

-and you can't whisper, man.

-Did you know Rita?

-Sure, I know Rita plenty. The girl was dope.

-So do I.

How well did you know Rita?

-Oh, we had sex at least 22 times.

-Not you!

Just shh! Keep it quiet.

It's this truth serum playing havoc with my mind.

Hey, what kind of sex did you have with Rita?

-Filthy sex.

-How well did you know Rita?

Well, sometimes she shat on me through a coffee table.

Really? That's disgusting.

-I'm going to try and get out of here.

-Yeah, I think you'd better.

-Don't worry, Martin.

-Did you and Rita ever get it together?

Yes, we did.

-Not you!

-Just last Thursday I paid her to spit in my mouth

like I was a baby bird and she was a mother hen.

Then she kicked me in the stomach and pushed me down some stairs.

-That's disgusting.

-If you don't want me to regard you as a suspect...

I didn't kill her.

See? I've got truth serum.

-All right, man.

-When did you last see her?

-I saw her Thursday just passed.

-Not you! I'm asking Will.i.am!

-I'm sorry.

-But I saw her at her crib, The Juicy Wench.

And when did you see her in The Juicy Wench?

Er, about...

-This is made of plastic!

-Hey!

-This is made of plastic!

-No, it's not.

-Can we not just try, props department?

Plastic. There's printed labels.

It's 1850-something here.

None of this is real.

Can't you see?

He's an actor paid to do this.

It's not really Will.i.am.

His name's Samson. All of this thing is falling apart.

Look, there are cameras here.

There's a camera crew.

Dammit, this truth serum is playing havoc with me.

-Let's get back to this murder.

-All right, let's act, all right.

What exactly does your work entail here?

I'm like a cultural spaceman.

A transcendental being and a focal point for positive astral energy

but mainly I'm just a biologist.

That other stuff is just shit I say to sound cool.

-A biologist?

-Yeah, man.

-Do you collect hearts?

No, don't be silly.

Only a licensed medical doctor can experiment on human donors

and there ain't no MD in front of my name. I mean, as it is,

it would be illegal to operate on human organs.

That's weird, cos I just found this.

Look, it's OK, I jacked a few black-market organs, all right?

But it's no biggie because they all came from perfectly reputable

-grave robberies.

-Really? Or is this the case?

You called out a prostitute, and then you murdered her,

then you ripped out her heart cos you didn't think anyone

would give her the respect she deserved?

You didn't think she deserved any dignity because she was just

a two a penny prostitute. My God, you make me sick.

GLASS SMASHES

-Oh, that's not good.

-You just smashed the evidence.

I didn't, I'm sorry, I'm just like... I was just getting...

Yeah, you smashed evidence, brother.

Sorry about that.

-Where did this come from?

-You think you're smart, you ain't

going to make that stick on me because I'm not going to touch that.

Did this heart here come from a sweet, innocent girl

whose life had turned to prostitution and you ripped

that beating heart from her body,

believing that no-one would care enough to investigate it?

But guess what, Buster?

I'm an honest john who paid to have sex with that woman

and, by God, I will make sure, come hell or high water,

I find the murderer of Rita Ora because I am

the best cop in this goddamn city.

-That truth serum is wearing off.

-Well said, that was excellent.

-Martin, you just dropped the evidence on...

-Let me get it.

Help him, Martin. Help your boy, Martin.

There's glass and footprints on that.

-You got me?

-I've got you.

-All right, brother.

Hey, Martin, Martin, Martin!

Stay black, brother. We shall overcome.

A wimba way, a wimba way!

'Time to rub shoulders with Successville's hoi polloi,

'specifically Jonathan Ross, a wealthy so-and-so

'dining with one Jamie Oliver in a joint full of men

'with big wallets and small dicks.'

All right, come in, Martin.

What is this place?

Ssh. This is Successville's gentleman's club.

Listen, Martin. We're going to have to have aliases.

I am going to be Spencer Crenchingly-McQuaffen,

-you will be my brother Lafayette.

-Lafayette?

The Crenchingly-McQuaffen brothers.

-The what brothers?

-Crenchingly-McQuaffen.

Is it Cruncher...le..mccuffen brothers?

Crenchingly-McQuaffens.

Quench...

Crenchingly-McQuaffen. I implore you to get this right.

Crenchingly...

Look, look...

Crenchingly... Martin...

Lafayette...

Quenchingly-McCuffen.

Crenchingly-McQuaffen.

Do you want me to change the name to Taylor?

Would that be easier for you, if we were just the Taylor...?

-Keep your voice down.

-I'm trying to but you are infuriating me.

-Crenchingly...

-McQuaffen.

Marty.

OK, Crenchingly-McCuffen.

McQuaffen.

-Quaff.

-Just call it McCuffen!

One second.

OK.

Just call it... Crenchingly-McCruffen.

Crenchingly-McCruffen.

-Yeah, Lafayette Mc...

-Lafayette and Spencer.

-OK.

-Let's do this.

Yeah. Thank you, sir.

-Good eve.

-Gweetings.

Greetingth. I thall thtart with the thizzle thixth-ounth thirloin

with Thouthern-thtyle thaltha and thuper-thized thalad.

And I'll have the wild wabbit woin,

the slow-woast gwouse and the wedcuwant gwavy.

SLEET AND MARTIN LAUGH Oh!

You shall both also laugh with mirth when you hear the confusion

that has been broadcast upon us.

We are not waiting staff.

We are members here.

Yes, new members here.

Alas, you have been fooled into a jape

that has quite simply spiralled out of wiz-waz.

Tho thorry to athume you were thimple therving thtaff.

-Tho thorry.

-What?

-Tho thorry to athume you were thimple therving thtaff.

-What?

I'm tho thorry to athume you were thimple therving thtaff.

Did you get any of that?

Tho thorry to athume you were thimple therving staff.

HE LAUGHS Again, I...

Tho thorry to athume you were thimple therving thtaff.

HE SNORTS

Are you deaf?

No, no. No, no, I agree exactly with what you said.

-Thought you were a waiter.

-Yes! HE LAUGHS FALSELY

And the sun is shining brightly indeed.

The thun is shining.

So, we are without a table. Hint. Hint.

We'd be delighted if you two gentlemen would join me,

Jonathan Ross this evening, when my guests will be

Lord Jamie Oliver and you two fine gentlemen.

-Oh, thank you very much.

-Thank you.

-APPLAUSE

Oh! HE LAUGHS

Well, this is nice, isn't it, gentlemen?

Well, we better introduce ourselves before we drink.

I am Spencer Crenchingly-McCruffen

-and this is my brother...

-Lafayette Crenchingly-McCruffen.

-Yes.

-What an admiwable and affluent name.

Yes. Thank you. Oh, my gloves.

-What about them?

-Just taking them off.

Clearly you gentlemen have a bob or two under the mattress.

How did you come across your fortune?

-Well, coal and butter.

-Yes.

Two of my favourite mining operations.

I have a butter mine over in New Guinea.

-Amazing.

-My brother Lafayette is the best of all the diggers.

What do you use to excavate the butter?

A big butter spoon.

THEY LAUGH

I can assure you he isn't crazy, gentlemen.

Has he ever been struck upon the head?

Yes, once upon a time, but that's another story entirely.

Pray tell, gentlemen of folklore...

..do either of you have a crystal sweetheart?

There's only one girl for me.

A tewific girl by the name of Wita.

So pure and virtuous.

Oh, she's an amazing girl.

Everything was going all right with Wita until I found out

she was keeping a sordid secret.

Oh, really? Tell me more, Jonathan Ross.

Well, she'd come home after another long night of looking after

the orphans when yet again, several of them had spilled milk

all over her back. Well, she was running a bath

and I saw that her diary had tumbled out of her bag and there it was.

7pm, thruppence.

7.30, thruppence.

8pm, thruppence.

It was clear what Rita had been up to -

she was seeing a man by the name of Thruppence.

Yes. Well, I mean, that might not have been her diary,

it might have been her receipt book.

What do you mean?

It's come to our notice that Rita...

Rita was a...

A lady of the night.

I beg your pardon?

You mean to tell me that Wita was widing winkles at the weekend?

If what you mean by that is, was Rita having sex with strangers

for thruppence at a time? Then, yes, that is exactly what she was doing.

-Where?

-She was a wench in The Juicy Wench.

-She was...

-The Juicy Wench, I've never heard of such a place.

Well, it's a lovely, reasonably priced little brothel

-down on the south end of the shore.

-Thouth end of the shore, you thay.

Yes, and here comes the kicker.

Along with being a prostitute, Rita is also...

Well, she's gone.

-Yes.

-Gone where?

Rita's brown bread.

-She's snuffed it?

-Yes.

Well, I thought posh people wouldn't understand what brown bread is.

There's one final bit of this story

that has seemed to cause somewhat upset.

We are also not the Crenchingly-McQuaffens.

My name is DI Sleet, this is...

-What's my name?

-Martin Kemp.

Oh!

I'm so confused with the names.

THEY LAUGH

Well, which is the name that you've been for the longest in your life?

Martin Kemp.

-Is he crying or laughing?

-He's laughing.

-I'm just...

-I'm crying over Rita.

-Yes.

Rita was a really good friend of ours.

Yes, well, a friend of yours. I was just a loyal customer.

It must be years undercover has affected you deeply.

Well, yes, it hasn't been that long. It's been 20 minutes.

Right, you are a suspect, Jonathan.

Jamie Oliver, you are just a bumbling fool.

There, there!

I theriously think you can conthider thlinking off

and thlinging your hook.

-What? Say that again.

-I have no idea.

Thling off. Thling your hookth.

Conthider thlinging your...

-Thling off and thling your hookth.

-Can you open your mouth?

-Pith off.

-Well, you could have said that in the first place.

It's like talking to a chimpanzee at times.

It's ridiculous.

Maybe do something. Well, sir, you can cast indispersion upon me

or on my fake brother-stroke-partner

but you can...should have your tongue looked at.

It's obviously too big. Argh!

You can talk!

Yeah, you've got me at it now.

You, sir, should have your tongue looked at.

It's clearly too big for your mouth.

-Pith off.

-We're going.

Heads down. The fuzz are in town.

You, run. Scarper, you wench.

You three have been brought here accused of murder.

Entrusted in me by the Queen of Successville,

I have the order...

..to kill whoever we think murdered Rita Ora.

Ready.

Aim.

-It wasn't me!

-Fire!

GUNSHOT

Bravo, my friend, bravo.

That was a decent bit of shooting.

WHISTLE BLOWS

What the deuce is that?

That, sir, is Jonathan Ross.

Perhaps you'd like to present your evidence, Kemp.

Jonathan Ross one evening took...

..Rita Ora out of the back of The Juicy Wench,

he covered her mouth with a cloth from The Juicy Wench

that was covered in chloroform. She fell to the floor,

he slit her throat and he pulled out her human heart

and he sent it to Will.i.am.

You've just shot a man on the very flimsiest of evidence.

But, remarkably, you shot the right man.

Well done, Martin!

-Bravo.

-Thank you.

-I never lost faith!

-Thank you.

-I knew.

Her Majesty is very, very happy with you, Kemp.

Of course it was Ross.

-Thank you.

-Yes, Ross, as we know, had a red handkerchief

matching the one that was found at the crime scene

and Ross, if you kept your little peepers open,

was present at The Juicy Wench

when you were making investigations despite the fact...

The Juicy Wench.

I've never heard of such a place.

It could not have been Will.i.am.

No, because he was lecturing during the hours that the unfortunate wench

was shot. And it could not have been Paloma Faith...

..because she couldn't write.

I don't know, it's hard to tell when you can't read or write.

And there was a letter, wasn't there?

On in the dead body, that said...

"You betrayed me".

-Yes.

-Bravo, Kemp.

Thank you very much.

Well done, boys.

Lads, follow me.

You know, there was a time there

-when you couldn't even remember your name.

-Yep.

-Come on, buddy.

I think it's time we went back to the future.

THEY LAUGH

Oh, God.