British Detective Series

I'd play the detective Jack Meorf, obviously. I was dark, brooding, mid to late 40's. Sure I hit the bottle and bent the rules, but hell, I got results. I had no time for my boss, he was on a one way mission to make Chief Super before retirement and there wasn't a chocolate starfish he wouldn't tongue to get there. He played it by the rules and enjoyed nothing more than dragging my ass over the coals whenever the opportunity arose.

'You've got 24 hours to show me something concrete or I'm turning this one over to the Feds. I've got the Chief breathing down my neck on this one Jack and I'm trying like hell to keep it out of the papers.' No, I was a loner and always would be.

Yeah, I was married once, Deirdre her name was, simple, innocent, loving Deirdre. Deirdre, with a face like the first day of spring. Deirdre, with eyes like the darkest outback opal. Deirdre, with tits like a photo finish in a zeppelin race. She was right of course, to leave me that is, she had no choice. I'd been given the ultimatum during the dead hooker case in '97. It was her or the job. I chose the job and not a day had passed since when I hadn't missed those tits. Now I was married to the force, the force and a cheap bottle of Scotch.

Mary the barmaid. Busty Mary they called her. She enjoyed a joke with the boys and was well liked by all the punters at the Headjob and Handbrake where she worked. 'Show us you tits Mary' they'd sing enthusiastically when they had a bit in 'em. She never did of course but she admired their wit. Mary who enjoyed a hit of tennis. Mary who loved her cat. Mary who was just a tiny bit simple. Mary who had a secret, a deep dark secret.

There was Terrence Elliot James III and Lady James. Well into their 40's with a boy at Eton and another just discovering spank mags. Terrence was a self made man, you'd know that within five minutes of an introduction. A local, born and breed and damned proud of it. Mrs. Jones was the perfect wife, glamorous, sophisticated, big chested and in her day no doubt quite the catch. But the Jones' had a secret, a deep dark secret.

What was I doing? That was shit. I tore the napkin up into tiny pieces and spent the next twenty minutes staring at the passing traffic. I really needed to get out more.