The Dangerous Dancers Of Maurice: The problem we ALL have

Jeff stated the obvious: "We might have a problem ..."

Michael did an absolutely top-notch job of infiltrating Maurice Dancer's "nefarious flowery-frocked gang of musical mayhemers" and should be commended for taking, um, extreme measures to do so. The situation should be considerably easier to manage going forward, but major damage has been done and will continue to manifest for some time. I'm not sure you, the general public, see the potential problems...

"What's wrong with joining forces with a bunch of fun people who like to drink and sing and wear flowers in their hair?", you ask.

Nothing... at first

But soon, the flowers begin draining the victim's brain

"Uhhhhh... like, whaaaaa?"

And then the toxins begin distorting the victim's facial features...

"Give me a kiss. Or another lemon to suck on. Quack quack!"

These mutations become more pronounced...

"Whatever, Unbelievadude. We still cute!"

Hmmm, not so much, gals. Also, notice the pretty flowers are gone. That's because they're not just 'pretty flowers'. They're genetically modified flowers, engineered to attach to you, wreak havoc on your molecular structure and eventually recede into their roots, deep within your brain storage area (aka: head).

Dr. Moreau called. He wants you to come back to the island.

And that's when things start turning truly terrible...

Gyah!

What? No!!

Sweet merciful deity of a given individual's personal theological preference!

Yes. Now maybe you see that Maurice Dancer and his followers, in addition to all the crime they commit, are responsible for nothing less than turning innocent civilians into monsters. And you would know what a real mess that can be if you had ever read the classified file from 1987, the last time someone created a pandemic of monsters that roamed the earth and that we had to stop, but you don't because you haven't read that file because it's classified. So forget I mentioned it.

The Dangerous Dancers Of Maurice: The Plan

 

With regard to Monday's all-points bulletin about Maurice Dancer and his nefarious flowery-frocked gang of musical mayhemers*: No sooner did the word get put out there then the calls came ring-a-ting-tinging into the Unbelieva-Base. 

I was munching on a sandwich, coming 'round the corner into one of our offices where Clark and Jeff were deep in conversation. I heard the phone clack into its cradle ...

"Well, that makes about half a dozen alerts already from the good public, all of them noting Dancer's shenanigans have become a bigger problem than originally thought. Once folks get a pint or two in them they're basically putty to his suggestions. People are throwing their hard-earned cash left and right into his minions charity boxes. They go home, come out of their stupors and realize they don't have enough cash to go grocery shopping. Something has to be done ..."

My ears automatically pricked up.

"'Pints' ... as in beer?" I asked. "Boom, I'm there! Sign me up! I'll go undercover and infiltrate Maurice's gang - concentrating on his right hand woman Mrs. Big - and quash the lot of them chop chop!" I offered.

Jeff stated the obvious: "Well, we know you like beer."

"Duh" I responded.

"You'd have to go deep undercover. You'd have to use one of our most clandestine alter-egos," Clark noted. 

"Hold that thought," I told Clark. I left and came back in 5 minutes with one of my disguises:

Can I cook or can't I?

"That flowery headdress mumbo-jumbo is a cinch to pull off," I told them.

Clark looked at Jeff. "He's good, I'll give him that." Jeff nodded in agreement.

"Your passport is up to date, right?" Jeff asked.

I looked at him sideways. He knew my passport was current.

"Plus ... you'd have to wear pants," Clark pointed out.

"I can suck it up and take one for the team as circumstances dictate," I replied.

Jeff had a few last considerations. "Are you sure you're going to be able to sidle up to Mrs. Big? She doesn't wear make-up, she's got zero fashion fashion sense making her unattractive ... and have you seen the lower lip on that woman?"

Jeff had a point. That's one ugly woman ...

"It's going to be rough ... but that's where the beer will come in handy," I countered. 

"It's settled, then," Clark concluded. "Michael will edge into Maurice's little party and crack'em like an egg. You'll call us when you have something."

"Righty-O," I verified. "It might take me a bit to win their confidences but I'll work out any kinks. Trust me."

Jeff and Clark saw me off at the airport the next day ...

... and that's the last they heard of me for 2 weeks.

"You know ... we haven't heard hide nor hair of Michael for 2 whole weeks," Clark mentioned to Jeff.

"No worries ... we just got a post from him. Let me open it ..."

As Jeff scanned through the photos sent to the guys, he exchanged a worried look with Clark:

I was deep undercover in this candid photo,

working my way seemlessly into the case as shown ...

Yes ... there were "perks" with the case. Obviously.

This might have been me. Or it might not have been.

Hard to tell if it's actually me in disguise ...

Maurice Dancer's throngs are many and varied ...

Jeff stated the obvious: "We might have a problem ..."

*Note: Because of the sensitive nature of this particular case, the events herein actually happened several months ago. Offered in real time, this case may have gone sideways, compromising not only the integrity of the mission but the clandestine nature with which we worked it.

The Dangerous Dancers Of Maurice

ATTENTION! THIS IS AN ALL-POINTS BULLETIN FROM THE UNBELIEVABLES!

Yes, folks, we need your help. It seems there is a large criminal gang threatening the UK and most of Continental Europe, if not other places. The gang is led by this man:

He goes by the name of Maurice Dancer, and he and his gang are fairly easy to spot as they all wear variations on the costume seen in the above picture, although sometimes animal disguises are worn.

As you can see.

His second-in-command is a woman named "Mrs. Big" who schedules all of their heists.

Their costumes are designed by a woman known only as "The Milliner".

Their crime? They roam the countryside on warm sunny days.looking for pubs to gather outside. Once there, they proceed to dance to old folk tunes played badly on archaic instruments and bash sticks together, jingle bells and wave white napkins in the air. For some reason, people seem to like this. They then rattle lifeboat-shaped 'charity' collection boxes under people's noses and the foolish Joe Q. Public proceeds to empty his pockets in the mistaken belief he is contributing to charity. However, it is our belief that they are just keeping the dosh for themselves for their own nefarious purposes. 

So what do they want the money for? Well, mainly to buy personalised engraved pewter tankards for beer-drinking, and of course, beer. But, we believe, they also need money to train more of their ilk and therefore spread their gang far and wide. Much like the Hell's Angels, they also have `chapters` all over. Facebook is littered with them.

Their techniques are pretty questionable, they fail to prove that their income is going to charity, and they use animals to intimidate kids and adults alike.

See how they terrify a young boy with their horse, Dobbin.

This is Idris, their pet dragon  He'll bite yer bum.

So what do you need to do? The answer, dear readers, is to be vigilant, Keep an eye out for these crooks and do not let them talk you into parting with your well earned moolah. Instead, put in a call to us and let us handle it.