♪ In the neon womb of verbal mime
♪ I'm so out of touch with life and time
♪ In the catacombs where nothing rhymes
♪ Nothing exists except that which is mine
♪ My mind is My mind was
♪ Oh- oh- oh insane
♪ Standing all alone in the neon womb
♪ Reminds me of my mother's lonely tomb
♪ The air in the city is as cold as fire
♪ And this mother city calls me a liar
♪ My mind is
♪ Oh- oh- oh
♪ My mind was End, beginning all
♪ I'm insane
♪ My body is a neon womb
♪ I'm a neon, I'm a neon womb
♪ Neon's here, neon's there I'm a neon womb
♪ Standing all alone in the neon womb
♪ The air in the city is as cold as fire
♪ And this mother city calls me a liar ♪
Scramble! We've got all the bad news we can use.
I'd sooner kiss a corpse than listen to him screw your sounds up.
Walk off, will you? That way, out to sea!
Then listen to me!
No, enough! You're the cock, you!
Replaced me with that.
I can't even hear him. Someone plug him in!
At least he turns up! At least he tries!
- Back off! - Let me go!
No violence, Kenrick.
Just sing, songbird.
Any heavy stuff and we're away! Contact or no stinking contract!
Manager's job to protect his client, Toola.
Word is you're in deeper than that.
Do your job!
- Come on, will you? - Come on.
Hurt a geezer with a ripped off ticket, Kenrick?
By the time I'm through, everyone's gonna know about it.
Which trip are you on now, Mole?
The one where I kill our mistress, Chrissie,
I know you killed her. I know it.
First you freeze me out of the group and then you do her in.
She simply went away.
I don't believe it.
Shut your mouth, Mole.
No!
♪ Reminds me of my mother's lonely tomb
♪ And this mother city calls me a liar ♪
Leave me alone!
♪ 329 Radio ♪
Just coming up to one minute to 6 o'clock
here on Radio West.
To those of you who've been through the night, good night.
And to those who've just woken up, good morning.
He must have been here all night.
Is he dead?
Dead? No. Washed up, yes.
Come on, Molecombe, wake up. This time you're coming in.
What for?
Living without due care and attention.
There's someone rather special who wants to talk to you, now, come on.
Ooh, all right. Give a little.
That's a Radio West new spin from Julian Littman.
And now for the latest news of our pub pianist, Fred Hickley,
who's down there at the Half Moon, West Grove.
Thirty two hours without a wink of sleep, poor Fred.
Never mind, here's a little something for you to play along with.
Use one hand, eh? Take a rest.
Idiot.
Din, there's a personal call for you.
Din, I need a bit of help.
What, with all the air play I give you?
I don't mean plugs.
It's not for me, Din. It's for somebody else.
Do you know Eddie Shoestring?
Know him? He's one of my star pupils.
Hang on a minute, Toola.
I hope that was okay for you there, Fred.
Keep on tickling the ivories
and here's another little something to keep you going.
Yeah, Toola?
Look, could you talk to Shoestring for me?
Um, maybe get him to come over.
Oh, thanks. See you, Din.
♪ Trees, fields, life's serene
♪ Now I find your life totally obscene
♪ Goodbye goodbye
♪ Goodbye mankind Goodbye
♪ Warl Warl Warl
♪ The planet's at war
♪ And my body's in flames
♪ The pain
♪ My body's in flames The pain
♪ The pain
♪ Pain
♪ The pain ♪
Hi, are you Toola?
That's me, who are you?
Well, my name's Eddie Shoestring, Dinsdale asked me to drop by.
- Thanks for coming. - It was a pleasure.
I remember hearing Din nattering on about this detective with the funny name.
Well, can't all have boring names, can we?
True.
There's this guy, we call him The Mole. He used to play bass guitar for us.
He's been giving me and himself heavy times
since we reorganised the band.
- Without him? - Yeah.
And the trouble is he just won't accept it.
He keeps hanging around, making trouble, attacking me.
Mole's latest stunt got him chucked into the sea.
He thinks our manager has killed his chick, hidden her body.
Some weird fantasy like that.
Well, yeah, you better tell me some more about this girl.
Chrissie.
She had lots of energy to spare.
A looker, what you call the beauty queen types.
Won a few parades, all that stuff.
Anyway, she was having a thing with both Mole and Mal Kenrick.
That's your manager.
Being what he is, he thought he should have exclusive rights to Chrissie.
- He didn't want to share around. - Right.
Well, Mole claims that he got booted out of the band
because he was having the boss's lady.
And Kenrick says, it's because Mole was an acid user.
I mean, take your choice.
Then Chrissie went missing without a word to either of them.
He reckons our Mal got the red mist and killed Chrissie.
What, crime of passion? It's a bit out of date, isn't it?
Yeah, but, it's what Mole says, anyway.
Look, maybe hearing the truth from someone like you
might just straighten him out.
And get him off of your necks.
It's a good yarn for your programme. You use it, we don't mind.
Thank you very much.
Well, okay, I'll go see this Mole anyway. Where can I dig him up?
Oh, you'll have to ask a copper.
Just because you're my brother doesn't mean you can do this to me.
Yes, it does, because you've done it again, haven't you?
Didn't I tell you? Just one more warning, I said.
You can't just walk in here and hit me.
Oh, can't I? I've done it before and I'll do it again.
I have a special right.
Yeah, I thought you'd better know. Shoestring.
- Shoestring? - Guy from Radio West.
Their contracts are with me, any radio dates, I discuss them.
No. He's nothing to do with music.
Eddie Shoestring. The Private Ear.
Private ear, private eye.
Toola asked him down to the pier to talk about something.
Gary.
Hey!
Keep the tummy tense. Nearly done.
You're next, are you?
You've got a nice collection there.
Yeah, not bad.
- Wife doesn't object then? - Oh, no.
There we are.
Oh, yeah, that's a good one. Show your husband.
All right?
Oh, great. Terrific.
All right? Happy? Yes, thank you.
Sorry.
- See you then. - See you.
- They good customers of yours? - Oh, no.
His are mostly foreign seaport stuff.
Stonemason could have done a better job.
What do you fancy?
Oh no, I didn't want a tattoo, I've got very, uh, sensitive skin.
Oh, no worries on that score mate, I can...
I'm looking for Mole.
Mole? Butterflies I've got. Eagles, snakes. But...
Look, what do you do when you want to have a...
When nature calls?
Oh, I just use the public facilities down the shore.
I want to talk to a punk guitar man, name of Mole.
- He ducked into this shop, didn't he? - Oh, now, wait on. Who are you?
I've been asked to help find his missing girlfriend.
Ah, well, he's got a room upstairs.
But you could try the Tivoli café, it's a one-teabag joint down the front.
Thanks. I know it.
No, it's okay. Sit down.
What did you do? Bump into something inside the nick?
I just bit me lip.
Did it stopped you talking?
They wouldn't listen if I did talk.
About Chrissie?
Police believed Kenrick when he said that she just scarpered.
They suggested I did the same with appropriate gestures.
Well, Toola said that you reckon the group's manager
sacked you and killed Chrissie
when he found out that you'd been holding hands
under the pier without his permission.
Now that's truth.
Yeah, but isn't it just possible that this Chrissie girl might have left,
you know, got sick of both you and Kenrick?
I know that's very difficult to believe,
but if I'm to help, I have to explore all the possibilities.
Like friends or people she might have gone to.
- Another bloke even? - No way.
- Okay. Her parents? - They're dead.
Kenrick sort of half adopted her.
She looks like that.
She's not quite so doll like.
They touched her up to make her face look like all the rest.
Well, this date's only last week.
Yeah, but it was taken six months ago.
Old Kenrick was proud as Popeye showing this off.
But what he didn't know was that I took Chrissie back
from that photo session
and I made it with her all the way back in my mate's van.
Would that mate have told Kenrick about you and Chrissie,
you know, doing it in the back of the van?
You are a private eye, ain't you?
I mean, you find it and you stir it,
yet when I tell you that Kenrick is an evil bastard, you don't believe me.
I didn't say that.
Look, Chrissie loved nobody better than she loved herself,
but she was pretty turned on to me.
I just want to know what Kenrick did to her, you know?
All I'm asking is that Kenrick pays his dues. For her.
Yes, I remember when she posed for this.
She had it all in the right places, did Chrissie.
Had?
Heel.
"When Chrissie isn't winning beauty contests around the UK,
"she likes nothing better than to cuddle with her pet Irish wolfhound, Molecombe,
"beneath the pier on the sea founded west country resort where she lives.
"Lucky dog, Molecombe. " Cheeky bitch. She means me.
- My name is Malcolm. - I know.
What else do you know, Seamus?
Every private eye is tagged Seamus, right?
I wonder what choice bit of phrasing would fit you.
Well, modesty inhibits my descriptive powers.
Something pretty punchy, I have no doubt.
After you.
Thank you.
Something pretty punchy, okay.
Please.
How about, uh... "Malcolm Kenrick...
"banished to the latter years of his third decade.
"was rather like an overfed vulture, flapping after the bird of youth. "
You came to trade insults.
No, not at all. I just want to find out what happened to Chrissie.
I found I'd been sharing my precious jewel with
various members of the musical riffraff.
One of whom, was our friend, Mole.
Chrissie was never one to use a dagger when a sword would do.
So, if you find her, Shoestring, no need to give her my love.
I wouldn't dream of it. Where is she?
Oh.
Mal Kenrick? Yes, I remember Chrissie, yes.
Hang on a minute, will you?
Yeah, sure.
Hey.
Why are you so anxious to find Chrissie, then?
So you know her as well, do you?
I ran second to her in a beauty contest last season.
She lived with the bloke that owned the pier.
Also happened to be one of the judges.
He was on the panel, too.
What chance has a young virgin got in such a crooked game?
Well, talk about odds against.
Fix was in so deep, Helen of Troy would be hard pushed to earn place money.
So, uh, Mr Cantly and Kenrick are, uh, buddies?
Kenrick's on the resorts entertainments committee.
They whistle, Cantly dances.
- He's an ex-actor. - Yeah?
- Quite successful once. - I don't recognise him.
On the West End stage.
He developed a slight handicap in his career.
Couldn't remember a single line.
In his last appearance, he had to mime the entire final act.
Oh, it's a comedy, I hope.
No, a tragedy.
Well, tell me, have you seen Chrissie lately?
No, not for months.
- Ah, Mr Shoestring. - I didn't mention my name.
Fame, dear boy, I recognise your face.
From news photographs or Stage, Spotlights, somewhere.
He needs a prompt.
We were talking about Chrissie.
Ah, I saw her only last week. I was going to give her Alison's job here.
- Nicola. - Sorry, Nicola.
I couldn't give Nicola, I mean Chrissie, Nicola's job, this job,
because she, that is Chrissie,
was totally, I mean, horrendously unreliable.
Yeah, when was all this?
Uh, just last week, yeah.
Now, are you sure about that, because as far as I know
Chrissie was last seen some five weeks back.
No, it was last week, old boy. Last week. Tuesday.
I'm absolutely certain of that.
- Now, of course, alive and well? - Take my word.
Yeah. Looks good there.
What's this one for?
It's a documentary award on what happened
to money made in the slave trade.
One of the less illustrious chapters of this city's history.
Shall I take it down until the producers' presentation?
Good idea, Sonia.
Doesn't the producer get to hang it at home?
Can always come in here and look at it.
Who knows, we may be collecting one for you before long.
Thank you, Sonia.
Well, what do you want to see me about?
This girl. I think you know her.
I do?
Yeah, she was in a beauty contest last year.
Don, you were one of the judges.
What am I supposed to remember? Her face?
Or the silicone assisted superstructure?
No, her name. Chrissie Leander.
As a representative of Radio West, I'm asked to sit on juries
for everything from Miss Bath to the West Country Dairy Maid.
Yeah, well, she won this title at the seaside.
Yeah, I remember. Yeah, she won it easily.
But I never talked to her then, or after. She's nothing in my life.
Oh no, you don't get me on that count.
No, it's right that I'm not interested in you.
It's one of your fellow judges, Malcolm Kenrick.
Did you know that Chrissie was his girlfriend?
No, I didn't.
Are you suggesting there was some sort of a fix?
Well, not necessarily by you.
Oh, not necessarily by me? Thank you so much.
It's a pleasure. What can you tell me about Kenrick?
He's brash, clever...
Owns the pier and one or two other enterprises.
Put a stack of money into a new marina, I heard.
- Got an interest in a pop group. - Yeah, Toola and her band.
Right. Oh, you know them?
Yeah, I've met the lady. I also visited Kenrick in his little home.
Don't keep me in suspense, Eddie. What's the pitch?
Well, the beauty queen is missing, and the band's ex bass player
is shouting foul play. I just want to trace her.
Well, she should stand out in a crowd.
Don, I don't want to wait till my next programme.
Din's on the air now, I could save time by having an appeal made by him.
What's come over you? You usually gatecrash anyway.
Well, I'm just being polite.
Now, Eddie. I like the shirt.
Mal wants to see you urgently.
I can't risk getting out at the moment. Not with Shoestring nosing about.
He suggested a place.
All right.
Yes, he is.
He is with Mr Satchley. Shall I put you through?
No, hang on. It's Mrs Bayliss for you.
Hi, any luck?
Well, nothing is filtered through here about Kenrick.
Seems to be a pillar of society.
Though there is a slight feeling that the pillar isn't too straight.
And the girl, is she officially missing?
No. But I can tell you something about Molecombe.
I know about "the Mole. "
No, you don't.
For further information, why not speak to his brother?
Police Constable Bryan Molecombe.
Can I help you, sir?
- Yeah, you Bryan Molecombe? - Yeah, that's me.
Got your hands full, haven't you?
Bloody vandals. We'll have a spectacular accident.
Lucky I found them. Can I help you, sir?
Yeah, I'm Eddie Shoestring, Radio West.
I'm working on behalf of your brother, Mole.
You are not looking for that girl of his?
You must be short of things to do, Mr Private Ear.
Oh, wasting my time, am I?
We checked it out. The girl was a tramp.
She's simply gone to London.
- She was officially traced by the police? - She was officially checked by me.
The force have got better things to do. I have made it perfectly clear to Gary.
Yeah, with your fist.
I should have done it a damn sight sooner.
Look, all I ask is that you don't feed his bloody silly fantasy
with this lost girl caper.
- It's all an illusion. - What if it isn't?
Oh! Not you, too, mate.
I saw one of the psychiatrists about Gary's mental state.
My brother's at the second stage of schizophrenia.
I keep telling you, Mr Shoestring
heard exactly what you said you want him to hear.
And even though I say so myself, as a performance, it was perfect.
Did he believe it or not?
Well, if you mean, was there sufficient suspension of disbelief,
as we say in the business.
Was he buying it?
Well, no perhaps not.
You must have been a bloody awful actor.
I bet you killed off seaside rep single-handed.
Fair's fair. What you asked,
directed towards a cynic like this Shoestring chap.
Well, it would've strained the talents of a Finney, McKellen.
All right. Thanks a bunch.
But I need three days undisturbed to see this deal through.
I can't have bystanders like Shoestring or the law around.
Can you not clear him from the stage?
I mean, another deed of dreadful note, perhaps?
As you may have noticed, even the most casual of murders off stage
call forth protest from some nobody or other.
It's the last option on him, on Molecombe
and also on you, Cantly, dear.
On behalf of our own Eddie Shoestring,.
It's an appeal for a missing beauty queen.
What else, knowing Eddie. Her name is Chrissie Leander.
Five feet five, blonde, blue eyed and beauteous.
No wonder Eddie is rather anxious to make her acquaintance, you crafty devill
The man with the low profile,
the high forehead and the worn - out heels.
He pounds his lonely beat, solving problems for you.
Our Radio West listeners. Our very own Private Ear.
But to remind you of Chrissie.
If you have seen her or know her whereabouts,
give Eddie Shoestring a call here at Radio West, 329.
Come on, a little smile, a little carefree cock of the head.
Look, I'm at work. Not on the promenade.
Instinctively, I know, you're the treasure around here.
Sonia, isn't it?
The sprocket, the tiny cog that really makes this radio station run.
Big smile now. That's it. You see.
Terry Posnett really knows where the gold is, the heart of the gold.
Here. That's one for the mantelpiece.
Give it to your boss in application for a rise.
No obligation, print rights on the back.
Mr Posnett, what do you want?
Heard your appeal.
Eddie Shoestring. Sounding of interest you might say.
- Have you seen Chrissie? - Who are you?
I'm Shoestring.
- Terry Posnett. Beach photographer. - How do you do?
- Have you seen her? - Better than that mate.
Just a minute, Shoestring. I'm a professional photographer.
So, if you wanna do business. You know what I mean.
- How much? - 20 quid. Including VAT.
Twenty bloody quid.
No, you don't.
- Ta. - When did you take this?
Snapped it on the promenade, just the other day.
Cow said he wanted it but never followed up.
Then I heard it on Radio West. Same girl, innit?
So, this is Chrissie.
Yeah, the photographer took it a couple of days ago.
- And that is the newspaper picture. - Oh, and this is Chrissie.
Yeah.
What makes you think...
Hello.
Yes, Sonia. Yes, he is.
What? Yeah.
Right. Well, ring him straight back and tell him I'll drive there right away.
Okay, bye-bye.
Seems like Kenrick has come up with the disappearing lady. I'll see you.
♪ Dance Dance
♪ Dance your life away
♪ Dance Dance
♪ Dance your life away
♪ Dance Dance
♪ Dance your life away
I know!
♪ Dance your life away
♪ So far away
Oh, thanks.
- Hi. - Ah, Eddie.
Glad you could make it. This is Chrissie.
- Drink? - Yeah, orange juice.
Orange juice.
I like it. End of the pier. Laughing sea behind you.
You'd do great in TV commercials.
Can you get me into one?
I was going to introduce you. But it seems rather unnecessary.
I feel I know you already.
- The photos don't do you justice. - That's nice.
Last time I met Mal here, he had only bitter words and sour memories.
Water under the pier now.
Toola asked you to find the girl. Now you found her. Satisfied?
I've been away, I came back to see Malcom if you must know.
A reconciliation?
She tried to get a job with entertainments.
But that idiot, Cantly, thought he was doing me a favour and got rid of her.
After that I just wandered about.
Not having the courage to call back here and say sorry for being a stupid bitch.
And this horrible street photographer tried to pick me up!
Yeah, I know. I saw the photo.
Solved the mystery though, didn't it?
I told you Eddie. She simply took off.
Yeah, sure. But what about the Mole?
I mean, couldn't you just see him and tell him whatever a girl tells worn-out lovers?
Mole. I don't ever want to see that crazy guy again.
Just tell him you're okay. I mean, it can't do any harm.
He frightens me. I don't wanna see him again. You promised.
I know. I did. Shoestring is full of suspicion.
I want to speak to Eddie Shoestring. Is he there?
Tell Eddie I got to see him really soon.
Explain to Eddie. I have seen something in this town.
It's in the weir dock.
What are you doing here?
Have you met Chrissie?
Yeah, at the end of the pier.
She and Kenrick were a picture in togetherness.
- Lf it really was Chrissie. - What do you mean?
Look, after you left something, struck me about that photograph.
Her sense of fashion.
- What about it? - Look.
The kind of girl you were talking about
would never be seen dead in last year's fashions.
I mean look at the shoes, the trousers, the flares. Helplessly wrong.
That photograph wasn't taken a couple of days ago as you were led to believe.
And I can prove it.
I talked to the owner of this shop.
When he bought it 10 months ago, he changed the name.
- I want Eddie Shoestring. Is he there? - I'm afraid not.
Tell Eddie I've got to see him.
I tried to reach my brother but he is out on patrol.
Explain to Eddie I found something that'll blow this town sky high.
It's in the weir dock. It's the biggest stash of...
- When did this come in? - An hour ago.
Whatever you're getting into, Eddie, be careful.
It's not me I'm worried about. It's Mole.
What's going on?
I came back and found Mole dead upstairs.
Overdose.
I thought he was off the stuff.
Poor Mole.
They're all up there.
Hey!
All right, Shoestring. I saw you come out back there.
What do you know about what happened to my brother?
- About his death? Nothing. - Then why did you turn up?
I tried to reach my brother, but he is out on patrol.
Explain to Eddie I found something that'll blow this town sky high.
It's in the weir dock. It's the biggest stash of...
He swallowed LSD.
Big dose. It was shoved down his throat.
Do you wanna hand this in?
Stash. Overdose.
You'd better talk, Shoestring.
What can I tell you?
Kenrick fooled me into thinking I'd found your brother's ex-girlfriend.
So Chrissie obviously isn't around.
Mole's dead.
I don't know, maybe he was right with his murder story.
I don't know why she'd implicate Kenrick in Gary's death.
If I put my colleagues on it, what will they bloody well go on?
Exactly. So why don't you let me carry on with it for a day or two?
I'm taking a risk if anyone knows of this conversation.
You want to find out, don't you?
You might like to read the small print.
It's too bleeding late now, innit?
I don't need a 10-page letter to let me know that I have been badly screwed.
The German deal is signed and sealed.
You've got no idea, have you?
Krautland, especially Hamburg, is wrong for what we are trying to do.
We are not going to play! Not one note!
Oh, excuse me!
When you come down to earth, Toola,
remember, your flight is on Sunday.
Otherwise, you and the boys will not only not play.
You'll have great difficulty in walking again.
They call us vicious?
- T for Toola. - T for trip.
- Eddie, what's going on? - Kenrick filled this gear with acid.
- Hi. - Hey.
At least you don't have to go to Hamburg.
We're free from Kenrick.
Admitted killing the real Chrissie then, did he?
Man of passion, Kenrick.
Killed her in a blind fit for messing with Mole.
I feel bad about Mole, I mean, he just really had a bad deal.
Well, next time you sing, sing one for him.
♪ Danced
♪ Laughing
♪ But then we touched
♪ I just broke down and cried
♪ I felt your planet
♪ So far away
♪ Touching the love
♪ From your distant star
♪ The pains, the troubles past
♪ From your distant star
♪ We've been waiting two thousand years
♪ For you to come again
♪ Now that's a long, long time
♪Just to learn the truth
♪ And then we
♪ Dance Dance
♪ Dance your life away
♪ Dance Dance
♪ Dance your life away ♪