Beer and Women's Clothes

Having uncovered the identities of the jewel thieves (you know, the ones that tried to pin it on us, claiming our disguises weren't all that good, etc., you know, follow the plot please) as the Turklington Gang, we decided to delve into their past crimes and misdemeanors to see if we could second-guess what their next move might be. 

We noticed a very clever and fiendish pattern in their criminal background. Clearly, the girls (if one can call them such) have noticed a trend among young men, which is the habit of dressing up as ugly unattractive women when going out on the lash. Usually, this is done for a celebratory reason (passed driving test, moving house, getting married, had a baby, leaving for college/army, just got out of the clink, etc. or sometimes even for no real reason at all, it just seemed like a good idea at the time) and, as most ideas of this kind seem to be, fueled by plenty of alcohol. In fact, here's a graph to prove my point.

It is a not uncommon sight in most cities on a Friday or a Saturday night to see groups of young men, pissed as newts, dressed like an explosion in Grandma's wardrobe, chanting football slogans or singing bawdy barrack-room ballads and intimidating passers-by.  

Wey-hey!

Awwight darlin'?

So the Turklington gang have clearly hit upon the idea of posing as a group of lathered-up men-dressed-as-women in order to deflect attention away from themselves, since nobody really wants to be associated with these fellas. The Turklingtons are therefore free to go where they please and rob whatever they see fit. 

And try to pin the blame on innocent people like us, too.

So now that we have their M.O. sussed out, all we have to do is figure out which nite spot they're going to start from. 

On Friday we'll have more to tell, that is for darn sure.

The case of "Who's the dummy now?" (Part 1)

We got the word from Ray Ray, one of our snitches, that a popular church was actually a front for a human trafficking ring, luring innocent and talented victims to participate in elaborate "talent competitions" and then casting them into the most degrading, disgusting and miserable enterprise ever invented; the recording industry.


Mastery of complicated math theorems led her to be accepted at Stanford at the age of 13. She never arrived on campus.



An exceptionally gifted violinist who never graced the halls of Juilliard




That's Dr. Minaj to you. At least it should have been.

 What would happen is this church would rig the competition, pre-selecting who they wanted to "win". Winners would be placed in the church choir for a few months to indoctrinate them and then they'd be sent off on what they were told would be "missionary tours" to far-off regions to spread good will and joy, only they never returned. Instead, they were sent to the infamous CD farms just outside of Los Angeles, toiling away under horrible work conditions and making the most awful (ie: cost effective and therefor highly profitable) music possible. Often, their screams of anguish would be used instead of any actual singing.


"I...will...beat...the...talent...out...of...you!!"

 We sprung into action immediately. Adapting the disguises of a husband and wife evangelists who travelled the country with our ventriloquist dummy, Timmy.


(Lto R) Clark, Michael and Jeff. In retrospect, it might have been smarter to have Michael play the dummy.

 At first it didn't look like we'd get past the initial auditions. But then Michael had a brilliant idea. "Hey! Watch me drink this bottle of sin juice while Timmy (Jeff in disguise, of course) warns kids about why you should never do that!", he said, as he twisted the cap off a bottle of Crown. Naturally, the ruse worked perfectly, establishing Michael as a master ventriloquist, although I don't know why he had to drink the entire bottle; Jeff almost ran out of things to say. "Here, let me *hic* show you ag'in. Thish time, tell them *hic* about th' innernet, Timmy", Michael said before we stopped him from opening a second bottle. We took our bows and went backstage to regroup. The important thing was, we were in!

I'll let my associates tell you what happened next...