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.

Mardi Gras Past

It's Fat Tuesday!

And The Unbelievables want you to play it safe! Careful out there ... !!!

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Years ago on a Mardi Gras assignment dubbed "The Hush Puppy Caper"

(l to r, Clark, Michael, Jeff)

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!

Bands no longer on the run

No doubt you remember our brief side-project punk band, the "Turds Of Misery" as well as our association with ultimate rock frontman Freddie Mercury of Queen along with sharing our tastes in all kinds of popular music. Well, what you may not know is that The Unbelievables are not the only crime fighting organization with ties to the world of music. You would probably be downright shocked to find out just how many popular bands and musicians are actually deep under cover in their own pursuit of truth, justice and all the various sundry items that follow. Here are just a few, all no longer active for any number of reasons because of course we're not going to blow someone's operation, duh. But these are all very successful entertainers whose records you no doubt own, and even more successful good guys.

Phillip, Frank, Dan and Gary. These guys weren't investigators or fighters but were absolutely unparalleled when it came to interrogation. I can't really describe their signature technique but if you ever found yourself on the wrong end of it (so to speak), it's unlikely you'd ever forget it. They also relied on a variation of the classic "Good Cop/Bad Cop" scenario, making it more like "Good Cop/Bad Cop/Eh-He's-Okay Cop/Dear-God-No!-Why?-WHY?!? Cop"

Oh wait. I might have spoken too soon. These guys (from L to R: Teddy, Gary, Wayne, Roger and Goob as 'The Goobster') were good at their jobs and fine musicians but they were assembled during the Nixon administration to infiltrate and report on Native American organizations, and that was all very...unfortunate. This was, to say the least, not a well thought-out plan and the less said about it, and them, the better.

Ah yes, "The Squeaky Clean Teen Machine". This was kind of a "21 Jump Street" deal, where these crimefighters relied on their unusually youthful appearances to work their way into high schools and get beat up a lot. Hard to believe that of these four (from L to R: Gary, Alana, Jimmy and Claire), Jimmy was the youngest at 35 when this picture was taken. They had a long run... maybe too long. Time caught up to them and was not kind, as seen below.

From L to R: Gary, Claire, Alana and Jimmy, who had somehow become two years older than everybody else in the band (and Jewish) when this photo was taken, by which time their ability to pass as teenagers had almost completely disappeared. Except for Claire. In adult films.

There are so many more. The fellas will fill you in later this week.

Diversionary tactics

Michael isn't even in this photo... or is he?

Ho ho! Well played, Michael!

Now that he's told you all that he's going to be in San Diego, attending comic-con, can you guess exactly where he isn't going to be? If you said "in San Diego, attending comic-con", congratulations! You're starting to think like an Unbelievable and less like some dumb dope criminal.

"Duh, why do I always get caught?"

See, much like magic, the key element to going deep undercover is deception. Also, subterfuge, deceit, deception, delusion, equivocating, guile and fibbing. Those are all basically one thing.

So now that Michael has told you he is in San Diego and I've just told you that he is not and also that we are good at lying, where is he really?

Exactly.

(Truth is, we honestly don't know, which means he's doing it right. Although, wherever he is, we figure he's probably naked)

(Possible) Undercover Operations

Funny.

It doesn't look like I'm undercover in any of these photos. Duh. 

You think I can reveal what particular beard/hairstyle and couture I'll be sporting for the coming days while at Comic-Con in San Diego?

Heck no! What are you ... GOOFY ... ?!??!? 

There has to be decorum ... secrecy ... backdoor doings ... and intrigue. 

If operations are successful, I might be able to get files declassified immediately in order to download information that you might find ... interesting.

In the meantime, you know where I'm at - with a bunch of geeks, freaks and weirdos invading the streets of San Diego ...