The Casebook of Inspector Steine, Episode One: The Entertainer
TEASER: THE HIPPODROME THEATRE, FROM AUDITORIUM POV
Laughter, applause. Vince walks on as MC
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
All right, all right. Thass enough mate. Thass enough. Blimey reilly, don’t clap too loud, mate, bring the ruddy house down.
A laugh
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(continuing)
Iss an old building, right. Iss an old structure get my meaning.
A laugh
STEINE
(delighted, to Brunswick)
An old building! Ha. Very good. What happens next, Brunswick?
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Where was I? Oh yeah. This horse, see. This horse
(pauses to laugh at own joke)
This horse goes into a bar, right?
BRUNSWICK
(whisper)
He’s telling a joke now, sir.
STEINE
Excellent.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
This horse, right, goes in the bar, and barman he say –
(laughs)
You’ll like this mate, he say to the horse, right, OK, so there’s a horse right, and he say to him –
STEINE
(calls out, jokingly)
Get on with it!
BRUNSWICK
(too late the warning)
Oh sir.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(fierce)
Who say that?
Audience gasps
TWITTEN
Ooh, sir.
STEINE
Don’t tell him.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(shouts)
I said, who say that?
STEINE
(squeal of Eek)
SIG TUNE AND OPENING CREDITS
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
(cheerful)
I suppose I will never be a famous policeman like Inspector Steine. Here in Brighton, Inspector Steine is a veritable legend! He broadcasts to the nation every week on the Home Service – “Law and the Little Man”! He was on “What’s My Line” a couple of weeks ago! He’s met Edmundo Ros!
(loaded sigh)
Oh well.
(laughs)
Villains, that’s my area of expertise, gawd elp me! It gets me down, sometimes, the way I can see the hundreds and hundreds of flaming rotten villains just teeming like vermin under the thin veneer of this apparently cheerful seaside town, scuttling and swarming and breeding and shouting “Nah nah copper, can’t catch me, why don’t you just give up, you useless woodentop?” “Villains are everywhere I look, sir,” I tell Inspector Steine. And you know what he says?
ICE CREAM PARLOUR
STEINE
(it’s all v simple, as far as he’s concerned)
Really, Brunswick? Then don’t look; that’s probably the answer! Come, come. There’s no point upsetting yourself!
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
(sigh; he’s determined not to get bogged down )
Anyway, our story this week begins at a very, very peculiar time for us all at the Brighton Police Station.
Sound of ping pong being played in dull fashion: back and forth, back and forth
BRUNSWICK
It all started just after Constable Twitten and our dear old station charlady Mrs Groynes had both been taken hostage by a madman with a blood grudge against Inspector Steine. It’s a long story. Anyway, the thing was, overnight, inexplicably, on their release, all of a sudden, the crime in Brighton … just stopped.
DARTS MATCH IN STATION
Sound of darts match. Brunswick exerts himself throwing dart
BRUNSWICK
(a miss!)
Oooof.
Dart hits board; Brunswick groans
TWITTEN
(sympathetic)
Ooh. Double three again, I’m afraid sir.
BRUNSWICK
Oh flaming heck, Twitten.
He lines up another shot
STEINE
(encouraging)
Be the dart, Brunswick.
BRUNSWICK
I’m trying, sir.
(takes deep breath to concentrate, then)
Uff!
Dart hits board and bounces off; Brunswick groans
TWITTEN
Oh dear, no score, sir! I wonder if you’re allowing enough for the effects of gravity, sir. I could draw you a graph if it would help.
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
This was no temporary lull, either. No, while the rest of mid-1950s Britain was worrying itself into a lather about the spread of juvenile delinquency and the soaring figures for postwar violent crime, in Brighton we had six months of no crime at all.
Sound of fast, accurate typing on old-fashioned typewriter, with Twitten making clever, approving noises
BRUNSWICK
Constable Twitten started writing a ground-breaking sociological study of kinship systems in the Fens, Inspector Steine worked tirelessly on his golf handicap –
OUT OF DOORS, GOLF COURSE, WINDY
STEINE
(filling scorecard)
I think I’ll call that a six.
(thinks about each stroke; works it out)
Let’s see, there was one, two, then in the water, three-four-five.
(remembers a whole episode on this hole)
Oh yes, the tree. Six, seven. Then onto the fairway – then back into the rough –
(had enough now)
Oh, call it six.
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
And I – well, I thought I should do something a bit more useful, so –
(he’s proud of this)
I infiltrated and gained the trust of a bunch of villains –
Sound of Boccherini quintet theme of “The Ladykillers”
BRUNSWICK
– who never actually told me they were planning a bank job –
ICE CREAM PARLOUR
STEINE
How do you know they’re not just playing Boccherini because they like it, Brunswick?
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
– but I knew it would pay dividends in the end. The number of times I played that tune!
Boccherini repeats, and plays under the narration
BRUNSWICK
It was a strange time, especially for me. Like a phony war. I mean, the villains didn’t disappear off the face of the earth, did they? No, it was just like they were under a spell – waiting for a signal, poised, charged, and getting ever more desperate. Inspector Steine took it all at face value, of course. But there was one other person at the station, funnily enough, who didn’t seem to be enjoying this bizarre holiday from crime, as I wasn’t: can you believe it? It was our funny charlady, Mrs Groynes!
Sound of cups and saucers smashed, and Mrs Groynes muttering bitterly
BRUNSWICK
(laughs; he has no idea what her problem was)
She hated it! She absolutely hated it! You could tell it actually drove her mad!
THE POLICE STATION, OUTER OFFICE (PROVINCE OF MRS GROYNES)
MRS GROYNES
(on phone, not in “Mrs Groynes” mode; exasperated)
I know, I know, I know it’s been six months, Vince! I’m tearing my hair out. But what can I do?
Door opens
TWITTEN
(entering, polite singsong)
Mrs Groynes?
MRS GROYNES
(on phone)
Listen, Vince, I’ve got to go.
(snaps)
I told you, I’ve got to go!
She hangs up
TWITTEN
(pleasant)
Morning, Mrs Groynes. Was I interrupting something?
MRS GROYNES
(tired, fed up)
No, dear. What could you possibly be interrupting? There’s nothing happening, is there – NOTHING –
She clashes crockery etc
MRS GROYNES
– in the whole flaming town, thanks to you.
TWITTEN
(light)
It was a fair agreement, Mrs Groynes.
MRS GROYNES
I know, dear. But on the other hand, you never heard the expression “a joke’s a joke”?
TWITTEN
(reminding her of their pact)
Look. The agreement was: I don’t tell Inspector Steine you’re the criminal mastermind of Brighton, and in return – ?
MRS GROYNES
(sigh)
I don’t let any of my boys do anything at all. Lovely.
(as Mrs Groynes, v laboured)
Well, all this standing around jawing won’t launch the new Vauxhall Victor as the all-round forty-miles-to-the-gallon family saloon car of choice now, will it, dear? Cup of tea?
She starts clattering cups and saucers in a more constructive manner
TWITTEN
(reacting to the show of Mrs Groynes-ness, as she does it)
Bravo, that’s the spirit. Ooh, the Police Gazette!
He picks it up and flips some pages
TWITTEN
You wouldn’t believe how much crime is going on elsewhere, Mrs G, in towns where they don’t have such an enlightened arrangement as we have here.
MRS GROYNES
(hollow laugh)
Wouldn’t I?
She bustles, making tea, while he peruses
TWITTEN
I mean, gosh, look at this.
(starts list of wrongdoing, flipping pages)
Daylight robberies –
MRS GROYNES
(reacts wistfully, Oh for a daylight robbery)
Yeah?
TWITTEN
(he knows the effect he’s having)
Daring bank raids –
MRS GROYNES
(a suppressed moan)
Oh!
TWITTEN
Ooh, smash and grabs,
MRS GROYNES
(with huge effort)
Slice of cherry genoa, dear?
TWITTEN
Cases of fraud, illegal gambling, stolen bicycles –
MRS GROYNES
(can’t stand this, bursts out)
That was Vince on the phone just now.
TWITTEN
(stops reading)
Ventriloquist Vince? What, the unbelievably threatening Punch and Judy man? What’s he doing these days if he isn’t going around terrifying people?
MRS GROYNES
E’s working at the Hippodrome, dear, doing some Master of Ceremonies.
TWITTEN
Oh yes? Going straight! Good for him.
MRS GROYNES
(comes close)
Look dear. I’m not asking so much as begging. It’s a very, very, very little case of embezzlement he wants to do.
TWITTEN
(tries to object)
Oh, Mrs Gr –
MRS GROYNES
(carrying on)
Couple of hundred quid off the top; they might never even notice.
(emotional)
Just a couple of measly Undred off the top, dear. Undred. Fifty. Twenty rotten quid, dear. As a favour to me, couldn’t you find it in your Art? I can’t go on like this!
TWITTEN
(firm)
I’m sure it will get easier with time.
Pause
MRS GROYNES
You know I could have you done, dear? I just have to snap my fingers. There’s a queue from here to Assocks. And then on from Assocks to Aywards Eath.
TWITTEN
(unconcerned)
But, as I have already explained, Mrs G, there is a letter sealed and waiting in the hands of London solicitors to be delivered to Inspector Steine in the event of anything suspicious happening to me, so rubbing me out would be a very foolish act indeed.
Sound of Steine and Brunswick approaching, Steine laughing, Brunswick demurring in some way
TWITTEN
(voice lowered, as Steine is coming)
Try to look at it differently. Try to think how happy you’ve made Inspector Steine. You know how he dislikes to be reminded of crime. And here he comes.
Door opens; they enter
STEINE
(bright)
Morning, Mrs Groynes, Twitten! Did you know there’s a club that’s just for putting? Why didn’t anyone tell me that?
MRS GROYNES
(straight into character)
Morning, inspector! Ow about a nice cup of tea?
STEINE
Ooh, have we got time, Brunswick?
MRS GROYNES
(not listening)
Look at you! Ooh, you’ve been out on that golf course of yours working your backbone to a string of conkers again, or I’m not Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.
(laughs)
STEINE
(laughs)
Oh, Mrs Groynes. What a character! Isn’t she a character, Brunswick?
BRUNSWICK
She is, sir.
STEINE
(leaving)
If we’re needed, we’ll be at Luigi’s, Twitten.
TWITTEN
Very good, sir.
MrS GROYNES
Right, dear. Off you go. I mean to say, all this standing around jawing won’t make Colin Wilson’s unreadable book The Outsider an inexplicable global bestseller, now, will it, dears?
Steine and Brunswick laugh appreciatively
STEINE
(tailing off laugh)
No, no, it won’t.
(to Brunswick, cut off by door closing)
Now, what’s all this about the call of the stage, Brunswick?
BRUNSWICK
(keen)
Well, sir –
Steine and Brunswick go. Door closes. Pause.
TWITTEN
Well done, Mrs Groynes.
MRS GROYNES
I’m warning you, constable. I can’t go on much longer. I honestly can’t go on.
TWITTEN
(getting up)
Well, I’m off to the library, Mrs Groynes. Once you start getting into the Fens, it’s jolly hard to get out of them again – which is actually the main theme of the book, now I come to think of it. Can I get you anything while I’m there? I can recommend James M. Cain, although you might find him a bit too sentimental.
MRS GROYNES
Oh no, I’ve got enough on my plate thank you very much, without books as well. What was the sergeant talking about just then?
TWITTEN
He’s been thinking about going into variety. At the Hippodrome, where you said Vince is working. The sergeant has actually bought us all tickets for tomorrow afternoon.
(makes connection, firm)
So you’d better tell Vince that, come to think of it, Mrs Groynes. He hardly wants to go committing a crime when there are three eagle-eyed police officers actually in the house, now, does he? Even Inspector Steine would find it hard to deny the evidence of his own senses.
He goes. Door closes
MRS GROYNES
(calling)
You’re right, dear. Have a good time, dear!
Mrs Groynes dials for operator
MRS GROYNES
Operator? Get me the Hippodrome, dear.
(thinking about what he’s said; talking to herself until connected)
You’re right, constable.
(she is suddenly happy)
You are so right!
(connected)
Vince? Vince, it’s me. Listen, I’ve just had an idea.
ICE CREAM PARLOUR
Hubbub, but no music; Steine and Brunswick are finishing ice creams
BRUNSWICK
The thing is, sir. It’s the villains.
Steine puts down spoon
STEINE
(can’t believe it’s STILL the villains)
Now, you’ll pardon me if I’m wrong about this, Brunswick –
BRUNSWICK
(interrupts)
I mean, sir, it’s the intolerable build-up of tension, sir, in the villains. Like under a volcano, sir.
STEINE
(exasperated: some people are never happy!)
Brunswick!
BRUNSWICK
Look. You see that man over there, sir, building a house of cards and surrounded by empty frothy coffee cups, like he’s been here since the minute they opened up this morning, sir?
STEINE
(with interest)
Chap with the Italian style hat and sun glasses?
BRUNSWICK
That’s Diamond Tony, sir.
STEINE
And your point is?
BRUNSWICK
He’s a villain, sir. Through and through. All he’s doing there, trust me, is planning villainy.
STEINE
But he’s not committing any crime, is he?
BRUNSWICK
(outburst)
That’s not the – [point!]
STEINE
(ignoring him)
Look, now he’s staring out of the window picking his nose. You can go and arrest him for that if you like, Brunswick, but I think you’ll find there’s no law against it.
BRUNSWICK
(strangles a cry of frustration)
Pause
BRUNSWICK
I’m thinking of going into variety, sir.
STEINE
Well, that’s nonsense.
BRUNSWICK
One of my regular informants, Maisie, is working at the Hippodrome, and she thinks my flair for disguise and other talents could be put to better use, sir. You know how much I’m drawn to the stage, sir.
Steine sighs
BRUNSWICK
(defensive)
And besides, what else is there for me to do? As you know, I’ve been undercover with that bogus string quintet for some considerable time now –
STEINE
(has said this before)
They saw The Ladykillers and liked the music, Brunswick, like everyone else!
BRUNSWICK
(continues)
– but playing the same piece of classical music week after week and waiting for them to admit what they’re up to is not enough, sir. I need more of an outlet!
STEINE
(moment of truth)
Look, Brunswick.
BRUNSWICK
(sincere)
What, sir?
STEINE
I’ve been meaning to tell you. This undercover work of yours.
BRUNSWICK
The undercover work that is all I’ve got between me and a feeling of total worthlessness, sir?
STEINE
(faltering)
Er, yes.
BRUNSWICK
What about it, sir?
STEINE
(he can’t go through with it)
It’s – it’s very, very good.
(changes subject)
Do you know what I dislike most about variety, Brunswick? The way it jumps around from one thing to another. Do one thing and do it well, that’s always been my motto.
BBC ANNOUNCEMENT
BBC ANNOUNCER
(with paper shuffling; very deadpan)
And now, at a quarter to eight, we go over to Alexandra Palace to hear a fascinating talk on “Law and the Little Man” from our regular expert, Inspector Steine of the Brighton constabulary. He will discuss tonight controversial legislation concerning entertainment: the so-called “Bang Up the Buskers” Act of 1912 which introduced the offence of aggressively amusing or otherwise molesting the public in a manner to cause consternation, distress, confusion or embarrassment.
(but here’s the good news)
And after “Law and the Little Man”, at eight o’clock, we join the Black and White Minstrels!
STEINE BROADCASTS
STEINE
Good evening. There is a general misapprehension in the British public concerning the role of the police. I mean to say, we enjoy a good laugh as much as the next man! But seriously –
BACKSTAGE AT HIPPODROME, A CORRIDOR OF DRESSING ROOMS
Brunswick is walking along with Albert, the shambling aged Stage Door man, who has a terrible cough
BRUNSWICK
This is very good of you, Albert.
Albert
Ass all right son.
(explosion of coughing)
Oh dear oh dear. Iss along ere. I think E’s in. What’s the name again?
BRUNSWICK
Well, I was thinking “Antonio”.
Albert
They’ll be all over you, son.
BRUNSWICK
Do you think so?
ALBERT
Yers. Yers. Oh yers. The ladies. They love an Eye-tie.
(cough)
What’s yer real name?
BRUNSWICK
Oh. Jim. Jim – er – Br –
(can’t think of anything quickly enough)
Brick. Jim
(hopeless)
Brick.
ALBERT
I’d stick with Antonio, if I was you.
Brunswick stops
BRUNSWICK
(star-struck)
Look!
Albert stops
ALBERT
What?
BRUNSWICK
(excited)
A star on the door!
(whisper)
Who’s in there, Albert?
ALBERT
(thinks; what week is it?)
Oh, where are we? Now. Well. This week that’ll be Ozzie Ollerenshaw.
BRUNSWICK
Not that Northern comic who does the shop steward thing?
(Ozzie’s catchphrase, northern accent)
“The members’ll never stand for that!”
(laughs; repeats the catchphrase)
The members’ll never stand –
(trails off)
ALBERT
(no enthusiasm)
That’s the one.
They walk on again
ALBERT
We Ad that Arthur Askey last week.
(mimics, miserably)
“Oh what a wonderful thing to be, a healthy grown up busy-busy bee.” You’d think he’d get tired eventually, but no.
BRUNSWICK
Do you listen to the acts, Albert, when you’re at your stage door? I noticed your little speaker.
ALBERT
I’ve got a special sock I put in it when no one’s looking.
(changes subject)
Whass your Antonio do, then?
BRUNSWICK
(confides, proudly)
Accordion dancing.
ALBERT
(nods)
Accordion dancing.
Brunswick pats the accordion in box he’s carrying
BRUNSWICK
(explains)
I dance, you see, and play the accordion at the same time.
ALBERT
Really? And me with no idea of what might be entailed. I’m sure Mister Drew will lap it up, son.
He stops
ALBERT
Here we are.
He knocks
BRUNSWICK
I’m so excited.
ALBERT
Oh good.
(coughs violently; through cough)
Did you – ooh blimey –
(coughs horribly)
did you think of a blindfold at all?
BRUNSWICK
(an interesting idea)
I’m not sure I could manage all the notes without looking, Albert.
VOICE (OFF)
Come in.
Albert opens the door
ALBERT
(recovers from cough)
I meant for the audience, son!
(laughs at own joke, coughing; then, to person inside)
Just my little joke, son.
Morning, Mr Drew.
POLICE STATION, OUTER OFFICE (PROVINCE OF MRS GROYNES)
Typing; perhaps a classical concert on the radio. Twitten is working on his book, and making “Mm” and “Yes, of course” noises as he types. Door opens
STEINE
Working late, Twitten?
Typing stops
TWITTEN
Ooh, good evening, sir.
He switches off the radio
STEINE
Don’t get up. How’s the writing going?
TWITTEN
Well –
STEINE
I expect you’ve discovered it’s a lot harder than it looks, eh? Hour after hour of staring at the wall? Not a thing coming into your mind.
(laughs the laugh of experience)
Oh, the number of books I’ve started, Twitten!
TWITTEN
Oh. Well, actually, I’ve nearly finished, sir. But then it’s only going to be 150,000 words.
(explains)
About 600 pages sir.
STEINE
Well, be prepared to stick it in a drawer and put the whole thing down to experience, that’s my advice, Twitten.
TWITTEN
I’m sure you’re right, sir. Although several publishers – [including Andre Deutsch and Allen Lane have already expressed an interest.]
STEINE
(interrupts, can’t listen to this)
Look, Twitten, it occurs to me that perhaps we’ve all got too much time on our hands. Did you know Brunswick had bought us all tickets for the Hippodrome tomorrow afternoon? He would never have done that in the old days, would he?
TWITTEN
It’s the inexplicable but welcome absence of crime, sir.
STEINE
Yes. And of course you’re right. This inexplicable absence of crime is delightful, just delightful.
He sits down; he’s feeling a bit sorry for himself
STEINE
It’s just that I can’t help thinking, Twitten: by the time crime breaks out again, I’ll be on my own here!
TWITTEN
Oh, sir!
STEINE
No, the way things are going, you’ll be an author, wearing a corduroy jacket and horn-rimmed spectacles, writing learned articles for the New Statesman —
TWITTEN
(tries to object)
STEINE
Ð and Sergeant Brunswick will be hoofing on stage at the Hippodrome in between dancing girls, a novelty dog act, an obscene northern comedian and some greasy hobble-de-hoy sawing a woman in half.
HIPPODROME THEATRE, EMPTY, FROM POV OF AUDITORIUM
Brunswick does some warm-ups on the accordion
BRUNSWICK
(nervous)
Right.
Plays opening bars of “That’s Amore”
BRUNSWICK
Er.
(nervous; calls)
Ready!
Some accordion twiddles
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(to Mrs Groynes)
Thatss all arrange then for tomorrow.
MRS GROYNES
Good.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
You better scarper, Mrs G.
BRUNSWICK
(calls, light laugh)
Anyone there? I can’t see anything! The lights!
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(calls)
In your own time – um
(consults piece of paper; unimpressed)
Antonio.
(whispers)
An E’s the one always going ruddy under cover? Blimey reilly.
Brunswick starts to play “That’s Amore” and dancing
Both Vince and Mrs G make horrified groaning and teeth-sucking noises
MRS GROYNES
(whisper)
Be kind to Im Vince.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(won’t promise anything)
I try.
MRS GROYNES
Just keep telling yourself they can’t help it. That’s what I do. They can’t help it. They can’t help it. They just seem to have been born that way.
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
Accordion That’s Amore (with dancing) playing under
BRUNSWICK
(big sigh)
I was on the brink of a new career! You know what Ventriloquist Vince said to me after the audition? He said he genuinely wondered whether the world was ready for me. And that I reminded him a bit of a policeman he knew, but this other fellow wasn’t Italian! The next day, I couldn’t wait to take the inspector and the others to what might soon become my new home.
THE HIPPODROME, THE STALLS
They have all come to the Hippodrome; there is some musical tumbling act with whoops and cymbal crashes etc already going on; they have to push through to their seats
STEINE
(not in a good mood)
All right, Row L. Sorry, excuse me. Oops, well, if you will wear winkle-pickers! Sorry, sorry, my apologies, sorry, oh thank God.
The others follow, making similar apologies
STEINE
(exhales)
Right, everyone sit down. Brunswick here next to me, then Mrs Groynes; that’s right. Then Twitten at the far end so I don’t have to listen to him boasting insufferably about his publishing deals.
(he sighs)
I hope you remembered the humbugs, Brunswick.
BRUNSWICK
I took the liberty of getting you a drink on a stick, sir.
Sound of them sitting down on tip-up seats; music continues
STEINE
(to Brunswick)
Well, all right. But I still don’t see why we all had to come to this ghastly place. I’ve told you before how I feel about variety. If they do the Laughing Policeman, I promise you I’ll get up and leave.
Music; audience reacts to something on stage
STEINE
(the act catches his eye)
Oof! Did you see that, Brunswick?
BRUNSWICK
(pleased Steine’s enjoying it)
Yes, sir. Contortionists are a regular feature of – [Music hall]
STEINE
(interrupting, completely engaged)
Look at that! Look! I’ve never – I don’t think I’ve ever –
BRUNSWICK
No, sir.
STEINE
Ooh, where’s my drink on a stick?
ALONG THE ROW
TWITTEN
(to Mrs Groynes)
This was very good of Sergeant Brunswick, wasn’t it, Mrs G?
MRS GROYNES
Lovely, dear. Take your helmet off, then, there’s a good lad, people are looking.
Music ends, lots of applause, footsteps as Ventriloquist Vince comes on
STEINE
(to the side)
Bravo! Bravo!
TWITTEN
Ah, Ventriloquist Vince.
MRS GROYNES
Yes, dear.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(on stage, with microphone, graceless)
Big hand for Bill and Daisy, the Twisty Tangly Toppling Twins. So much toppling eh? You never believe it if you no see it.
Tiny amount of time for applause
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
OK, OK, thass enough. Iss only toppling. Ass enough.
Applause starts to die down
TWITTEN
You did tell him not to put his hand in the till, Mrs Groynes?
MRS GROYNES
I did, dear. And I’d just like to say it’s been lovely co-operating with you like this, dear. But all good things come to an end.
TWITTEN
(confused)
What?
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(from stage, with microphone)
Shut up!
Audience quietens
TWITTEN
(urgent whisper, overlapping)
Mrs Groynes?
BACK WITH STEINE AND BRUNSWICK
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(shouts)
I said, shut up! Thank you.
Audience murmur
STEINE
(quietly)
Good heavens.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Blimey reilly. Ha ha ha. Now, I got the good news and the bad news.
Drum roll and cymbal
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Ha ha. We got brand new act now Ð never been seen before. Assa bad news.
Drum roll and cymbal. Audience groans
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
But the good news is, iss me!
Drum roll and cymbal. Audience cheers
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
I need volunteer, right?
Audience murmurs
STEINE
What’s happening?
BRUNSWICK
He needs a volunteer.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
But how to choose! How to choose!
STEINE
(calls)
Me! Pick me!
BRUNSWICK
(proud of his knowledge)
Ooh, I don’t know if you know about this, sir, but there’s probably someone planted in the audience – someone probably at the front –
He scans and then sees the man
BRUNSWICK
There, sir! Look, down the front, sir. Dressed as an off-duty market trader.
STEINE
(disappointed)
Oh yes. Look, he’s going up already. That’s disgraceful.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(shouts, scarily)
You mate! Greengrocer. Where you think you’re going?
STEINE
(amused)
Oh dear!
BRUNSWICK
That’s not supposed to happen, sir. Vince is supposed –
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(shouting at the plant)
Want me knock your ruddy block off? Get back in you seat. Back. Blimey reilly, want me tear your guts out mate and feed them ruddy seagulls?
ALONG THE ROW
TWITTEN
(urgent whisper)
Mrs Groynes, what did you mean just now?
BACK WITH STEINE AND BRUNSWICK
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
So hard to choose! So hard.
BRUNSWICK
He’s flying solo, sir. This is very exciting now, sir!
STEINE
(calls)
Me! Pick me!
TWITTEN
(at side; starting to worry)
Mrs Groynes?
VeNTRILOQUIST VINCE
But thass enough a that. You, madam, in Row L, in middle there. Orange hat.
MRS GROYNES
(to the side)
Who’s he pointing at, dear, can you tell?
BRUNSWICK
(excited)
I think he means you, Mrs Groynes!
MRS GROYNES
No!
STEINE
Damn.
BRUNSWICK
Yes!
TWITTEN
(to the side, suspicious)
What’s going on?
BRUNSWICK
He does mean you, Mrs G! Go on!
MRS GROYNES
Ooh, wish me luck dears.
She gets up and makes her way to the stage, over which:
TWITTEN
Inspector Steine, sir. I think we should stop the show. May I borrow your whistle, sergeant?
BRUNSWICK
What? Let go!
A bit of a tussle
STEINE
What’s he up to?
BRUNSWICK
He’s trying to get my whistle, sir!
STEINE
Well, stop him! Look, I’m confused enough as it is, Twitten, without you –
(takes command)
Stop it, Twitten. Get it away from him, Brunswick. Honestly. Doesn’t anybody else want to watch Mrs Groynes?
There is a struggle, which Brunswick wins; Mrs G arrives on stage
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Here she comes, blimey reilly, iss a game and no mistake. Big hand please for this plucky lady.
Applause
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
What your name dear?
MRS GROYNES
I don’t care to say, if you don’t mind.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Fair enough. What you do for living?
MRS GROYNES
I’m a charlady, dear. At the police station. And I’m not ashamed of that, neither.
Audience applauds
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Now, can you sing, dear?
MRS GROYNES
Ooh, not a note, dear, I’m sorry!
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Not for toffee?
MRS GROYNES
Not for a pound and a half of Callard and Bowsers, dear.
Laugh from audience
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
So iss fair to say you woulda know song, “The Boy I Love is Up the Gallery?”
MRS GROYNES
(corrects him)
Up in the gallery? No, dear. Never heard of it.
Laugh from audience
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Right. Now. Look into my eyes.
MRS GROYNES
Ooh yes.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
You are feeling sleepy.
MRS GROYNES
(as if it’s wonderful)
I am!
STEINE
(at seat)
This is terrific entertainment, Brunswick, I take it all back.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
When I say, “Sing”, you will sing song you don’t even know.
STEINE
That’s amazing, it simply can’t be done.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Sing.
MrS GROYNES
(starts with quavering voice but gets stronger until she really bangs it out)
The boy I love is up in the gallery, The boy I love is looking now at me/ There he is, can’t you see, waving of his handkerchief / As merry as a robin that SINGS ON A TREEEEEE.
Audience loves it, reacting as she goes along, and ending with great applause
MRS GROYNES
(all innocent, as if waking)
I didn’t do it, did I?
Applause
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
I need one more volunteer. You with anyone special this evening, darlink?
STEINE
Ooh, this is exciting, Brunswick. It might be us next!
(calls)
Me! Pick me!
MRS GROYNES
Yes, I am, as it happens. That young man there! Bless him, he’s a good boy; he’s a policeman.
STEINE
(eager)
Me? Does she mean me?
TWITTEN
(dread)
She means me, sir!
Steine groans
TWITTEN
Do I have to, sir?
STEINE
Of course you have to!
TWITTEN
(going)
Oh, very well, sir. Excuse me, sorry, oh dear –
Twitten makes his way to stage, over which:
STEINE
I’m beginning to see the attraction of all this, Brunswick, I must say.
BRUNSWICK
That makes me very happy, sir.
Applause as Twitten arrives on stage
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Now, whass your name.
TWITTEN
I’d – er, I’d rather not say, either, sir.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Blimey reilly, another one. OK, now what I gonna do, right, you look into my eyes, right?
TWITTEN
Very well, but I assure you it won’t work.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
You feeling sleepy?
TWITTEN
Not particularly. And I ought to tell you, I’m a very, very good singer.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(quietly, to Twitten)
OK you shut up now, OK, clever boy. You just Ad your chips mate.
TWITTEN
What do you – [mean?]
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(louder)
Because, now, ladies a gentlemen, I make this young man no sing somethink. I make him believe something.
Audience makes “ooh” noise
STEINE
Oooh.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
I make this young man believe somethink so ruddy bloomin daft it make him laughing stock a whole ruddy Brighton. Mm, what can it be? What? What can it be?
(laughs)
I got it. Young man?
TWITTEN
Yes.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
You a policeman, right?
TWITTEN
(impatient)
Yes!
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Always on the looka for the criminal?
TWITTEN
Yes.
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
So I make you believe …… that this lady here –
MRS GROYNES
Me, dear?
TWITTEN
(he sees what’s happening, but too late)
No! Oh no, don’t!
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
Yes! I make you believe this harmless cockney charlady from police station is criminal mastermind a Brighton!
MRS GROYNES
(mugging, for audience)
Ooh, blimey.
Audience gasps and murmurs
STEINE
(with confidence, whisper to Brunswick)
That won’t work. That will never work, surely, Brunswick?
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(hushes the audience)
Shhhh! Ruddy hell, can’t hear myself ruddy shouting up here.
It’s all quiet
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
(solemnly)
Young man, did you hear what I say?
TWITTEN
(quietly)
But she is a criminal mastermind.
BRUNSWICK
What?
STEINE
(bursts out)
Oh dear!
VENTRILOQUIST VINCE
It work, ladies a gentlemen! It work!
Audience applauds, while Twitten protests
TWITTEN
(calls)
Sir, she is! Listen, sir, I can explain everything!
STEINE
Incredible.
BRUNSWICK
(enjoying it)
Oh, poor Twitten! It’s not fair, sir. It’s not fair!
TwITTEN
Mrs Groynes is a fiend, sir! She’s done bank jobs, bullion robberies! She is in league with Ventriloquist Vince, can’t you see?
STEINE
That’s astonishing!
(calls)
Bravo, bravo!
What do you say, Brunswick?
BRUNSWICK
Bravo, sir!
MRS GROYNES
(sings)
The boy I love is up in the gallery/ The boy I love is looking now at me…
Laughter, applause, fade
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
And then, just as suddenly it stopped, the crime all started again, so my Antonio career had to be set aside.
Montage of sounds: phones ringing, police car sirens, whistles, gun shots, mixed in with seashore and fairground music
BRUNSWICK
We never got to the bottom of why it stopped or why it started up again, but I can tell you, things really cheered up at the station.
POLICE STATION, OUTER OFFICE (PROVINCE OF MRS GROYNES)
Kettle boiling; cups and saucers; Mrs Groynes humming
BRUNSWICK NARRATES
BRUNSWICK
There was just one fly in the ointment. My Boccherini quintet did do a bank robbery, rather a big one, so at least I was right about them all along. But on the other hand, they got away with it because – well, because they never let me in on the job, having somehow penetrated my disguise from the start. In fact they left a note for me inside my violin case saying, “Nice try, Sergeant Brunswick”. When I discovered this, I must admit I did lose control momentarily –
Sound of Brunswick violently breaking up violin and shouting “Six flaming months! Six! Flaming! Months!” “SIX. FLAMING. MONTHS!”
BRUNSWICK
– but I pulled myself together and decided that the best policy was just never to tell the truth to Inspector Steine – because he would enjoy it too much.
THE OFFICE OF INSPECTOR STEINE
Phones ringing in background, busy office sounds
Steine
(on phone, rather jolly)
Calm down madam, I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this. How much was stolen again?
(it’s a large amount; he’s amused)
Oh dear! Do you mind my asking why you kept such a large amount just lying around? I mean, the expression “asking for trouble” can’t help springing to –
(she’s rung off; bemused)
Hello? Hello?
Knock on door, door opens; enter Twitten
STEINE
Ah, Twitten.
TWITTEN
Sorry, sir, you’re on the phone.
Steine
No, no. Come in. She’s gone, actually.
He hangs up
STEINE
(genial)
This is the trouble with modern police work, you see, Twitten. Here it is in a nutshell. The British public are the fellow citizens it is our duty to help and protect, and at every turn they show themselves to be negligent idiotic riffraff.
(sigh)
Take a seat, there you go. Now, Twitten, I thought we should have a little chat.
(a happy thought)
I suppose you’ve been a bit too busy to finish your book, what with all hell breaking loose suddenly?
TWITTEN
Unfortunately, yes, sir.
STEINE
(too quick)
What a shame!
(to himself, la la la)
What a shame! What a shame.
TWITTEN
(why did you ask me to see you?)
Sir?
STEINE
Ah yes. Now, it’s about this Mrs Groynes nonsense.
TWITTEN
Yes, sir.
STEINE
I ordered you to snap out of it, as I recall.
TWITTEN
You did, sir.
STEINE
(he’s hoping this has worked)
And?
TWITTEN
It didn’t work, sir.
STEINE
(disappointed)
Damn. You see, I admit it was very, very funny to start with, but jokes like that wear terribly thin after a bit, don’t you find?
TWITTEN
Yes, sir.
STEINE
Oh well. Fall-back plan. Stay there, will you?
He gets up and opens door
STEINE
(calls)
Mrs Groynes! Brunswick!
(greets them)
Ah there you are. Come in for a minute?
They come in
BRUNSWICK
Sir.
MRS GROYNES
Morning, dear –
(spots Twitten; as if the whole thing has upset her)
Ooh, look who it isn’t.
TWITTEN
(small voice)
Morning, Mrs Groynes.
BrUNSWICK
(sympathetic to Twitten)
Twitten, you all right, son?
MRS GROYNES
(as if deeply hurt)
I was going to offer you a nice cup of tea, inspector, but perhaps I’d better take meself off to pull a daylight robbery down the East Street arcade instead!
BRUNSWICK
Oh, that’s not fair, Mrs G, it’s not the lad’s fault, is it?
TWITTEN
Thank you, sir, but you don’t understand.
MRS GROYNES
(angry)
Don’t you pick on the sergeant!
TWITTEN
(hotly)
I wasn’t!
MRS GROYNES
Yes, you were.
STEINE
(ignoring them, overlapping some of the squabbling)
What I wanted to say to you all, first, is –
(they’ve stopped)
Thank you, that’s quite enough. Well, what I have to say to you first, frankly, is that I can’t help being a bit jealous of you all, working under a chap like me who can not only take in a situation of such extraordinary complexity, but penetrate the essentials and instantly come up with an ingenious conciliatory solution worthy of Solomon in all his glory. So –
(actually at a loss, but making it sound like an executive decision)
– here we are. Here. We. Are. The question we urgently have to ask ourselves is: What on earth are we going to do? Now. Twitten. Any ideas?
TWITTEN
Well, I’ve given the situation a great deal of thought, sir.
MRS GROYNES
(under breath)
I bet you have.
TWITTEN
I considered leaving the station, sir.
BRUNSWICK
Oh no, son, no.
TwITTEN
I considered getting my solicitors to send you a certain letter from London, but unfortunately I stipulated they should only release it if I died or disappeared, so they wouldn’t.
STEINE
We could get you de-hypnotised, if you like. I’d quite like to watch that.
TWITTEN
No thank you, sir. I think I’ve been humiliated and outwitted quite enough for the time being, thank you.
MRS GROYNES
Aaah. I always say it’s a wise man oo knows when he’s beaten, dear.
TWITTEN
So in the end, I decided that the best thing I can do in the circumstances is to apologise wholeheartedly to Mrs Groynes, sir –
BRUNSWICK
(quite moved)
Oh, Twitten.
TwITTEN
– and promise never to mention it again, despite the extreme mental difficulty I will be under from now on, sir, having to remember that she isn’t the criminal mastermind of Brighton, despite all the evidence apparently pointing that way, sir.
BRUNSWICK
(sniffing)
I’ll help you, son.
TWITTEN
Thank you, sir.
STEINE
(ignoring the emotional stuff)
Look, it’s very simple. You’ve just got to remember it’s all in your mind, Twitten. Repeat after me: It’s all in my mind.
TWITTEN
It’s all in my mind, sir.
BRUNSWICK
It is all in your mind, Twitten.
TWITTEN
(upset)
Yes, sir. All in my mind.
MRS GROYNES
Aaah. Well, I forgive you dear, and you’re right. We’ll just say no more about it.
TWITTEN
(upset)
Yes.
BRUNSWICK
Oh, come here.
Brunswick gives him a hug, or possibly a pat on the back, with a supportive manly noise, which makes Twitten burst into tears
STEINE
(over Twitten’s crying)
Good. I knew I’d get that sorted out. How about cups of tea all round?
MRS GROYNES
Coming up, dear!
STEINE
(hardly able to contain himself)
So, Brunswick, how’s the Boccherini going? A little bird told me –
(laughs)
A little bird told me they knew it was you all long!
Twitten and Mrs G laugh as well
“THAT WAS EPISODE ONE OF “THE CASEBOOK OF INSPECTOR STEINE BY LYNNE TRUSS”, WITH MICHAEL FENTON-STEVENS….”
EPILOGUE:
STEINE
Next week in The Casebook of Inspector Steine:
Sound of the vintage car: ticky-ticky, with honking of horn; sound of speeding van going past
STEINE
(impatient)
Doesn’t this thing go any faster, Brunswick?
Car horn
BRUNSWICK
I’m afraid not, sir.
TWITTEN
(eager)
We really have to follow that van!
