Dance Hall

There is something that I have felt is missing from the different places that people have to go out to in this city, and not only in this city, in every city I have ever visited and/or lived in.

There are plenty of cafes, dinners, restaurants, bars, live music pubs and nightclubs but no matter how long I have searched for I have not been able to find what I have been looking for. An old style dance hall. I don't mean somewhere that you can go to dance with lots of sweaty drunk people as there are already plenty of places where you can do that.

What I mean are the halls from the 1930s, 40s and 50s that had live, large bands with brass and strings with large dance floors in the centre of the room surrounded by tables so that dinner came with an evening of entertainment and real dancing.

It's one thing that you see in old movies that makes me wonder whether putting up with one person for the rest of my life might be worth it, if only to go to places like that with them.

Of course the obvious answer as to why they don't exist anymore is that pop music arrived in the 60s and the way that people enjoyed music and evenings out changed dramatically, but surely I cannot be the only person in the world that thinks these places were wonderful and should not have been allowed to die out.

Especially when karaoke bars continue to thrive, though I will admit that whenever I have to go into any of them to find people; interrogate and threaten them, I will always make sure that a fight breaks out to do as much damage as possible to try and reduce noise pollution in the city.

Besides if Fred asked me out to dinner at a dance hall, I'd probably go.

12 Days of Christmas (I found Harry Lee)

On the first day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, upside down hanging from a tree.

On the second day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the third day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, seven hundred pounds poorer, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, with eight pub bans, seven hundred pounds poorer, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, with nine broken fingers, eight pub bans, seven hundred pounds poorer, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, with a ten gallon hat, nine broken fingers, eight pub bans, seven hundred pounds poorer, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, with eleven girls' phone numbers, a ten gallon hat, nine broken fingers, eight pub bans, seven hundred pounds poorer, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas I found Harry Lee, whistling twelve tuneless bars, with eleven girls' phone numbers, a ten gallon hat, nine broken fingers, eight pub bans, seven hundred pounds poorer, six in the morning, five sheets to the wind, with four laughing teenagers, three streets over, with two shots of vodka and upside down hanging from a tree.

This is what happens when Fred goes out of town and leaves Harry to fend for himself...and somehow I will still get blamed! What I really want to know though is why those teenagers weren't at home and asleep at 6am!

A day of time wasters

There are days in a private investigators life that really don't seem to get you anywhere. I'm sure it is the same in any profession but when you don't have savings, regular and stable employment or a ridiculously large inheritance to live off it can be a little more than frustrating when you are faced with a day of dealing with time wasters.

Having people constantly phone you and ask if you are offering Black Friday discounts is one thing, but to have people phoning and asking you to work for them and then not paying their bills and refusing any form of contact even to the extent of pretending you don't exist when you are stood a few inches in front of them.

Of course as annoying as that is, it is again but a passing frustration compared to having people coming through your door, asking for quotes for services, shaking their head and sucking air through their teeth whatever number you say and then try and negotiate a deal with you that invariably they then turn around and say "on second thoughts, I don't think I'll bother."

It really is something that more dead bodies aren't found in my office.

When you work for yourself it is always difficult making ends meet (what with people failing to pay their bills on time if they do at all) but when you have people coming through your door and wasting time, it really gets on your last nerve.

Fred tells me that I should be more patient as having a reputation for bad customer service is not a way to run a business. If I was a shop owner than I might agree but in a private investigator people don't want a happy, go lucky, sunny disposition. They want someone who looks like they can survive in the underworld and get them what they need - or at least everyone who seems to bother me wants that.

Harry on the other hand thinks that I should try and branch out into other areas, diversifying my business. I am not entirely convinced that offering to blackmail people to go to birthday parties or family events would be any more lucrative than the time wasters that I have to deal with no. I am also not sure that offering people tours of the crime hotspots of the city will be as popular as say studio backlot tours or maps to the stars homes.

Though I might not get shot at much and reducing my medical bills would be a very big plus...then again I wouldn't get to shoot as many people and where would the fun in that be?