En cours de chargement...
Six months into retirement from the local council, and Stanley was about as bored as he thought he could possibly be. Then he mowed the lawn (again) and knew his life was over. His wife was happy doing her crosswords, but Stanley felt like an old age pensioner with nothing to look forward to apart from sitting in his chair, watching daytime TV, and walking his dog, Roobarb. On a whim, after yet another wet walk with his overweight pooch, he put an advert in the corner shop window: Old Age Pensioner Investigations.
No job too big, or small. From murder to missing cats, Detective Stanley can solve it all. He went home, got told off for letting Roobarb get mud on the lino, stared at Custard the cat who stole the only biscuit he was allowed a day (he was putting on weight), and fell asleep in his chair. Then the doorbell rang. He had a case. The old age private eye was in business. Now all he had to do was actually solve a murder.
Oh, and get a pad, and a pen, and maybe detectives had cars too, and secretaries, and offices... He wasn't bored any more, that was the main thing. Plus the murder mystery, of course.
