Undercover Drunks

By now, as seasoned readers of this blog, you will doubtless be aware of the important contributions to our cadre of investigations and butt-kicking that have been made by a secret international undercover network of Tinseltown moles, Hollywood informants and celebrity snakes-in-the-grass. Without them, we would be struggling with the endless workload. 

Of course, dragons live forever, but not so little boys. By which I mean that people are only human, and humans have a limited lifespan.

By which I mean, even famous people die eventually. 

I would like to take the time to honour two of the fallen, who have given of themselves tirelessly in our service, Mr. Keith Moon and Mr. Oliver Reed.

Now you may be saying to yourself, "Those two old drunken louts? What could they possibly have done that was so useful?". Boy, did they have everyone fooled.

While it is true that Moon The Loon's crazy antics and alcohol-fueled escapades are the stuff of legend (as well as his skill behind a drum kit),

 and that Mr. Reed's sultry good looks and acting chops were only outclassed by his propensity for boozing it up and acting the goat, 

they were in reality pretending to be drunk (well, most of the time anyway). This meant that unsavoury types and nefarious characters felt that they could let their guard down around them, and say things that were of a sensitive nature, simply because they felt confident that neither Keith nor Ollie would remember a word of it in the morning.

However, much like Karen Allen's character Marion Ravenwood in Raiders Of the Lost Ark,  Keith and Ollie could really hold their drink whilst pretending to be totally sloshed. They also wore wireless mics in certain cases so we could record pertinent conversations for later use as evidence. It was they who blew the Case of the Hopeless Diamond wide apart with their recording of Lady Creampuff's clandestine (or so she thought) confession to her butler Spuckleworth that she'd hidden the diamond in the trifle. (Actually, the doddery old dear had been wearing it while cooking and it slipped off her finger and into the whipping cream). It was Ben Vereen, another party attendee, who swallowed the thing whole and ended up accompanying us to the Emergency Room where we patiently waited for the doctors to pump his stomach for us, but that's a whole other story. Ben was a big fan of trifle up till that point, but after that day he couldn't even look at a trifle without feeling queasy. Long story short, the diamond was returned to its rightful owner, and now it had a celebrity history.

"I'm choking!"

Keith and Ollie were attending Lady Creampuff's garden party when it happened and had arrived, suitably outlandishly dressed and pissed up, to complete the illusion. Then they set to work.

Sneaky sneak here...

sneaky sneak there...

sneaky sneaky everywhere.

And of course, nobody suspected a thing.

Of course, we all know that both of these fine gentlemen have ceased to be, and the world is all the poorer for it. Hats off to you, fellas.

Oliver Reed and Keith Moon - the undercover drunks.

I'll let Michael and Clark tell you more about some of our fallen former comrades-in-arms and their immeasurable contributions to our cause.

Ciao!