Don’t laugh, but me and Kingpin have decided to set up our very own Private Detective agency for damsels in distress (female clientele only).
“How hard can surveillance be, eh Captain?” said my small-handed compadre. “We just park up The Edgemobile and sit tight all night long,
eating sandwiches and slurping hot soup from a Thermos Flask, ’til some dirty bugger vacates the premises by shinning it down a drainpipe.”
“Then we take photo’s of them, right?”
“Right, Captain. Job’s a good un. I reckon we can even charge about a oner-per-hour for our right professional services as well.”
Is Private Eye work really as simple as that?
Perhaps some Private Dick Agency in Chelmsford would like to get in touch and put The Edge straight?