Foodge removed his Fedora and slumped at a table in the naughty corner of the public bar of the Pig’s Arms.

Merv took his cue and poured Foodge a double Pink with no umbrella – delivered with a silent flourish.  Merv knew from the look on Foodge’s face that things were delicate and starting a conversation was a risky business unless Foodge gave him a lead in.

“I’m in a spot of bother, Mr Merv” he said.  Merv let the news settle, cool a little and allowed a skin to form on the top of it. “What’s the grief, old friend” asked Merv.

“I’m completely out of work” said Foodge.  “Pipeline ?” Merv inquired. “We are without immediate prospects, Mr Merv” said Foodge.

“Marketing ?” asked Merv.

“Marketing ?” echoed Foodge – suggesting that this was a concept that had not wandered through Foodge’s consciousness so  far. “You know – stuff to drum up a bit of business !” said Merv.  “Foodge took  a pull on his pink and rolled the idea around in his mind for a while. “Drum up business” he mumbled.

“Like do a bit of crime and solve it ?” Foodge did not actually say these words but Merv was reading Foodge’s thought bubble.

“No, mate, let’s go back to Business 101.  Have you got a business plan ?” “No – whatever that might be I do not have” said Foodge. “Marketing and Sales Plan ?” “No, not those either” said Foodge.

“OK, lets start from the top” said Merv.  First he poured himself a pint of Trotter’s Ale and then sat down next to Foodge.  “Branding.  Now how about your business name” said Merv.

“The Foodge Investigations and Detection Office”.

“FIDO” said Merv.  “Dogs – lost and found”.  Foodge livened up.

“Actually we do do lost dogs, Merv” enthused Foodge.

“There you go again” said Merv “Doggie do do”.

Foodge look defeated.  Downcast.

“Let’s go for something more catchy.  More recognisable” said Merv.

“Foodge Breakthrough Investigations” said Merv.

“FBI” said Foodge, lifting more and starting to feel his creative juices flow.

“People think the FBI are the best in the business” said Foodge.

“Fuckin’ Best Investigators” said Merv.

“Now, have you got a specialty – a line of business you are famous for ?” inquired Merv.

Foodge fell silent, thoughtful and took a pull on his pink drink.  “Perhaps, you do a nice line in missing persons or fraud or embezzlement or blackmail, gambling, drugs, standover ?” offered Merv.

“Sandover?” Foodge made his quizzical face again.  “Standover there, Foodge and take your hands out of your pockets”.  Merv had to grab Foodge’s arm to prevent an overly-literal response from the Foodge.  “Just kidding” said Merv.

“Let’s take another tack”.  “No man is an island” said Merv, pausing for just a moment to draw breath and start his sermon on the merits of teamwork. “ I think you mean no man comes from Ireland” said Foodge – keen to assist.

Merv could see that giving Foodge a shake was likely to make Merv himself feel better, but a shake would merely go over Foodge’s head – just like his hat.

“No listen, Foodge, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re a private dick, right and that means you probably need some assistance – you know – defence lawyers who generate work for you”.  “I’m a lawyer too” said Foodge. “OK, so how much work is Foodge the lawyer generating for Foodge the private dick ?” wondered Merv aloud – in something like the thinking equivalent  of a stage whisper.  “Let’s consider some advertising”.  “I hate advertising, Mr Merv.  It’s boasting isn’t it ?  I get embarrassed” said Foodge.

“That graffiti in the men’s isn’t really advertising, Foodge.  ‘For a good crime call Foodge’ and ‘Foodge does it with dogs’ might at a stretch be technically correct but it’s hardly driving hoards of clients to your door, is it ?” said Merv. “I don’t have a door, Mr Merv” said  Foodge.  “Well, sorry, I should have said ‘driving whores of clients to your three-sided doorless office” said Merv.

“No, what I had in mind by way of advertising was an advertisement placed where people who might, by an incredible twist of fate, find themselves in a situation of dire need for the services of your incisive detective / legal eagle mind.  I’m thinking two column inches in Lambretta Monthly, same in Geometry News and maybe a regular guest appearance on Long Bay community TV’s “Inside Today”.

Foodge sipped his pink and the clouds in his crystal ball parted, revealing him tanned and with the wind in his hair, driving top down in a brand new Zephyr Elite on the way to a luncheon engagement with a TV personality curiously reminiscent of Kerry Anne Kennel.

Foodge’s reverie was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Hedgie. He looked agitated, which, for a man given to an over fondness for the quality control side of his horticulture business, was telling.  Hedgie pointed to the Trotter’s Ale tap and Merv made a foam call.

“It’s serious, Foodge.  I don’t reckon  you’ll get out of this one”.

“What is it Mr Hedge ?” said Foodge.

“You’ve left your lights on”.