Dragnet (1987) Script

This is the city. Los Angeles, California.

465 square miles of constantly interfacing humanity... representing every race, colour... creed and persuasion... that God, no matter how he is worshipped... chose, in His infinite wisdom, to deposit here... in the cultural nexus of the Pacific Rim.

Almost 4 million people work and play here.

And like any other place anywhere... there are those who have it and those who want it.

Those who have it, enjoy it... no matter how they got it.

Those who want it, can get it by attempting to better themselves... in a sympathetic community populated by decent citizens cheering them on.

Or they can try to take it the easy way.

Because even in the City of Angels, from time to time, some halos slip.

That's where I come in, doing my job to the best of my ability on a daily basis.

I work here. I carry a badge.



♪ Police, police police officer, ma'am ♪

♪ Their job Their job ♪

♪ To enforce the laws To enforce the laws ♪

♪ Their job: To enforce the laws ♪

♪ Enforce Enforce the laws ♪

♪ To enforce the laws Their job: To enforce the laws ♪

♪ J-J-J-J-Just the facts, ma'am ♪

♪ Just the facts, ma'am Just the facts, ma'am ♪

♪ D-D-D-D-Dragnet Dragnet ♪

♪ To enforce the laws To enforce the laws ♪

♪ To enforce the laws ♪

♪ Dragnet, Dragnet, Dragnet ♪

♪ Their job: To enforce the laws To enforce the laws ♪

♪ To enforce the laws To enforce the laws ♪ Police officers, ma'am.

Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts, ma'am.

♪ J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J ♪

♪ To enforce the laws ♪ ♪ M-My name's Friday ♪

♪ M-My name's Friday ♪ ♪ Enforce the laws ♪

♪ M-My name's Friday ♪ ♪ Their job ♪

♪ To enforce the laws ♪

♪ And preserve the safety of decent citizens ♪

♪ Dragnet, Dragnet, Dragnet ♪♪

Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

For example, George Baker is now called Sylvia Wiss.

Hey, who called the fire department?

What the hell is going on here?

Chief, where's the fire?

See the fire?

I see the fire. I see the fire.

Good! When you wake up...

tell Jerry Caesar he's out of business.

It was Wednesday, January 7.

A cool day in Los Angeles, with westerly winds... and light, scattered clouds at 3,000 feet.

I was working day watch out of Robbery-Homicide... at the same desk my late Uncle Joe occupied... when he served with the department 20 years ago.

Many aspects of the officer's routine have changed since Uncle Joe's time.

Now there are new methods, new philosophies, new equipment.

The standard service revolver and simple lead sap... have given way to Taser guns and anodized metal batons.

But there's one thing that never changes.

The face of crime. It just gets bigger and badder and uglier every day.

My partner's name is Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Gannon.

My name's Friday.

Joe. Captain.

Frank's late. Must've been held up in traffic.

Frank won't be coming in today. 24-hour virus?

Or tomorrow. Forty-eight?

Frank quit. Bought a goat farm.

Moved to Ukiah. Left you this note.

He was too broken up to talk about it.

Said he knew you'd understand.

Every man has a dream to chase. Frank's was that goat farm.

I understand. But tell me something. Yeah?

Those 3. 6 million citizens who expected him to be on the job this morning... will they understand?

8:47 a. m.

Captain Gannon had assigned me to investigate the Pagan robberies... a pattern of serial crimes which had occurred throughout the city.

They'd seemed merely irritating, but were gaining notoriety... through their growing frequency and naked brazenness.

I was to contact my new partner at the central receiving lot.

A less experienced officer might have been concerned he was getting potluck.

But I knew that any detective the department had to offer me... was automatically worthy of my respect.

Sergeant Friday? Who wants to know?

I'm Pep Streebek, your new partner.

Not looking like that, you aren't. Really? What's that mean?

It means I don't care what undercover rock you crawled out from... there's a dress code for detectives in Robbery-Homicide.

Section 3-605...

. 10, . 20, . 22, . 24, . 26, . 50, . 70, . 80.

It specifies clean shirt, short hair, tie, pressed trousers... sports jacket or suit and leather shoes, preferable with a high shine.

9:05 a. m.

Streebek's unauthorized outfit and facial growth were history.

For the first time in 12 years, I rolled into traffic with a new partner.

Detective Pep Streebek: Male, Caucasian... six feet, 165 pounds... no distinguishing scars.

He had an extensive list of merit citations which was tainted... by his total disregard for departmental procedure.

He pictured himself as some hipster, free-bird cop.

But his wings were about to be clipped... because now he was going to play the detective game by my rules.

Friday, we're allowed to go 55.

On some occasions, even faster.

I'm well aware of the federally-mandated speed limit.

But did it ever occur to you that by going 8 miles an hour slower... we might save gas and ease the burden on the taxpayers who pay our salaries?

A little extra gas isn't gonna put the city in hock.

Besides, this looks bad.

Live a little! It's the vertical pedal on the right.

9:47 a. m. We arrived at the Griffith Park Zoo...

Los Angeles's habitat for wild animals sustained in dignified captivity.

An adult male lion and a security guard had been tranquillized with a dart gun... and subsequent robberies had occurred.

These animals have it pretty good.

Simulated surroundings, three squares a day.

If these creatures could talk, they'd give the citizens a vote of thanks.

Friday, these animals... were trapped, stunned and roped, crated and shipped, dropped into cages.

You think they were in the wild forming lines, jockeying for position... saying, "Take me! I want to live on damn cement"?

When I look in their eyes, I get a different message.

We'll leave it at that.

Are you the police?

Friday, Streebek. Robbery. You have some Pagan cards?

Yeah. Three of them. Left in separate cages.

Let me show you where I found them.

This is Ben, our boa constrictor.

The missing giant anaconda was still here last night at 8:30.

I know because that's when it gets its final feeding.

It's not always its final feeding.

Sometimes it hides a little snack for later.

Just the facts, if you don't mind, ma'am.

What exactly does a Central Bolivian Anaconda choose to feed on?

It eats whole, live groundhogs.

You skip breakfast, Friday? Whoever stole it's gotta feed it.

We also seem to be missing one of these.

What is the approximate dry weight of the Madagascar Fruit Tree Bat?

You mean you don't know?

This is the one I understand the least.

Somebody must've wanted that lion's mane bad to pull a stunt like that.

Although, as Mohawks go, it's not that bad. It'll grow back.

How do you tell that to kids who haven't seen a lion and won't want to again?

Kids, it'll grow back.


10:35 a. m.

Arsonists posing as firemen had left a Pagan card... in the charred ruins of a downtown warehouse.

We were advised to contact the owner of the stolen merchandise... soft-core porno lord, Jerry Caesar... at his notorious pleasure compound in the coveted Bel-Air section.

Oh, thank God! Vibrator repair?

No, ma'am. Los Angeles Police Department.


It's enough to churn your guts, isn't it?

This girl pruning this bush with her...

That a slut peddler like Jerry Caesar could build a modern day Gomorrah... in the same city where they recorded "We Are the World. "

Hi. Hi.

Don't get too friendly.

Hi. Can I help you?

Police officers, ma'am. L. A. P. D. Robbery. I'm Friday. This is...

April! That's right.

She was a Baitmate.

Bait magazine. She was featured.

I get the hang of it. In the April issue.

No, Mr Silly. February! My name is April.

Don't tell me. Your favourite movies are The Sound of Music and Yes, Giorgio.

You love to go bobbing for apples.

Your major turn-offs are... anchovies, people who don't use coasters and...

And men who smoke in public places.

Let's go meet Jerry.

There's Jerry over there.

I'm gonna have a place like this someday.

Dream on, Streebek, dream on.

It's about time.

I called you cops three hours ago.

Yes, sir. My name's Friday. This is Detective Streebek.

What's missing?

How about the entire run... every single copy of our 25th Anniversary double issue of Bait.

Bait. That's his skin magazine.

You say. The intelligent subscriber regards it... as a politically-oriented, socially-impacted monthly.

I'm not gonna allow a gang of cement heads to intimidate me... just because I refused to publish their stupid manifesto.

Tell us about that. Here. Read it for yourself.

"Manifest of the International Brotherhood of Pagan.

We believe bad sex and good drugs are the cornerstone of a great democracy.

The peak of pornography... " We get the general idea.

My publishing company is not a private platform for a bunch of yahoos.

I don't care how many copies they buy.

I don't have to publish their junk just because they got 1st amendment rights.

I've got 1st amendment rights, too. Look 'em up.

I don't have. I can quote 'em to you.

Anyhow, how much do you figure a monthly run of your...

"magazine" is worth?

It's more money than you'll ever see in your life. And I do that every month.

My money's clean.

I'll tell you what you do before you go home and start polishing your pennies.

Go out and get my magazines back on the stand where they belong.

Listen, hotshot, I don't care for you or the putrid sludge you're trowelling out.

But until the laws are changed, my job's to get back your boxes of smut.

Since I'll be doing it holding my nose, I'll be doing it with one hand.

Excuse me. Jerry, it's time for your collagen treatment.

And don't forget, you're having your pores sucked at 3:00.

Thank you, Sylvia.

Boys, as you can see, I've got my work to do.

Why don't you get the hell out of here and do yours?

You have very strong hands.

Hey, Sylvia Wiss!

Yes, that's me.

They oughta transfer you to Missing Persons. You know everybody.

Don't you read the papers? Saturday is Bait magazine's 25th anniversary party.

Caesar is reuniting all of his former Baitmates.

Miss Sylvia Wiss, right here, was the very first Baitmate ever.


Sergeant, if I asked your honest opinion about something, would I get it?

You can bet the house on it.

Would you say these look like the breasts of a 43-year-old woman?

No. No, they don't, Miss Wiss.

They're quite impressive, bordering on spectacular.

We have to be running along now.

What's your hurry?

Wouldn't you like to have an early lunch?

Listen, Joe, it's the darndest thing.

I seem to have left my notebook in the car.

It's gonna take me 15, 20 min... A half an hour to find it.

Why don't you pump Sylvia privately for information?

And I'll, you know...

Nice meeting you, Miss Wiss. I had a good time, too.

Come on. Let's go to the car and find that notebook.

Are you crazy?

Sylvia Wiss wanted you.

Let me tell you something.

There are two things which differentiate the human species from animals.

One, we use cutlery. Two, we can control our sexual urges.

You might be an exception, but don't drag me into your private hell.

You've got a lot of repressed feelings, don't you?

Must be what keeps your hair up.

What is bothering you besides me? I'm thinking about those Pagans.

If all they were after was revenge against Caesar, it's slime versus slime.

But when they attack great institutions like our city zoo, my hackles turn red.

You'll lose those red hackles if you eat those chili dogs.

I can handle it.

They're the worst thing for you. Filled with nitrates, toxins, poisons.

And you're doubling up on them.

Mister, outside of cigarettes I only have one vice: Chili dogs.

So pipe down and let me enjoy my lunch in peace.

Do you know the things that can fall into an industrial sausage press... not excluding rodent hairs and bug excrement?

I hate you, Streebek.

Except for you and canned cling peaches, I'd be hard-pressed to find anyone... that doesn't know you should never leave your car keys in the ignition.

It's called a mistake. But I don't suppose you ever make any of those.

At ease, Streebek. We got another one.

Chemical train hijack at the freight yards.

Damn Pagans must be living on No-Doz.

Yes, sir. We'll roll as soon as we requisition a new...

One more thing. Police and fire departments... have been reporting vehicles stolen, so keep an eye on your car.

1:15 p. m. After requisitioning a replacement vehicle... we were issued a new Ford Escort subcompact... and responded to the call at Southern California's largest railhead... with more than 1,000 miles of track lying parallel over 2 million ties... hewn from majestic redwood forests.

3,000 gallons of two deadly chemicals had been siphoned individually... from their respective hijacked tanker cars.

We questioned the battered train engineer, Señor Tito Provencal... and attempted to determine the precise identification of the missing gases... from the owner of the chemicals company, a Mr Roy Grest.

Actually trichlornitromethan and the pseudo-halogenic cyanogen.

Pseudo-halogenic cyanogen.

They're shipped in separate containers. Mixed properly in the exact ratio... they form a liquid fertilizer that's clear as water.

But you wouldn't want to smell it. Why is that?

It burns the eyes, lungs, and throat, causes vomiting... and if continuously inhaled, death.

Sort of like your aftershave.

It's time to "Advance" with the Reverend Jonathan Whirley... founder of MAMA, the Moral Advance Movement of America.

Today, Dr Whirley's special guest is police commissioner for Los Angeles...

Ms. Jane Kirkpatrick.

Dr Whirley.

Thank you, George, and welcome once again to Advance.


Please, will you call me Jane?

Only if you call me Jonathan.|

Have you seen this guy? What a mental fur ball.

Happens to be one of my favourite shows.

Why don't you listen and learn?

What a deep honour it is for this city that you have chosen Los Angeles... to be the new focal point for the Moral Advance Movement of America.

It's quite simple, Jane.

If one wishes to effect a financial upheaval in this country... one should set his or her sights on Wall Street.

If one wishes to revolutionize the political system... he or she would naturally go to Washington.

But when dealing... with pornography, filth, crime... degradation... what better place is there to begin with than Los Angeles... the current capital of depravity... in what sadly passes for the modern world.

2:15 p. m.

We had been advised to follow up on a theft at 8823467 Magnolia Boulevard.

At this time of day, it took us 20 minutes to get there.

The complainant was the landlady, Enid Borden.

Some Pagan cards had been found.

What the hell do you want? Police officers, ma'am.

About time you pencil dicks showed up.

Why couldn't you have gotten here before that big, bad... stupid-looking piece of sewage breath stole my wedding dress?

Sewage breath would be your nickname for...

Muzz. Emil Muzz.

Not much of an improvement.

That ass-wipe also stiffed me for two months' rent when his cheque bounced.

Goddam puss-faced pimp stick.

All that was left in his room... was a big box of these things.

Any idea where Emil Muzz could be now? Friends? Family?

He was a loner. Took off in the middle of the night.

Useless scum-lapping shitbag.

Just the facts, ma'am. He leave anything else behind?

Yeah, a tape deck which I had to sell to make up for the lost rent.

So there's nothing you can do about it, you slimy little jizz bucket.

Yes, ma'am. Although you could be cited for swearing at us.

Says who, flathead?

The California penal code 314. 1 covering obscene conduct in public.

Good enough for you?

Them magazines and papers were his down in the trash.

No cheques or money. I looked.

I should've thrown it in the river the day he left... but unlike some people, I have a heart, goddam it!

That miserable bag of puke.

I think we're finished here, don't you, Detective Streebek?

Didn't she say she threw some of his stuff in the trash?

There it goes. Let's roll.

Am I glad I got transferred into Robbery-Homicide!

You can almost reach out and touch the tension.

What the hell was that?

It has its days.

Yeah. Like today.

Sitting in a park, getting eaten by ducks, sifting through garbage.

Hello! Photographs of people. Kinda faded.

Maybe one of them's Muzz. We couldn't be that lucky.

Hey, phone number. Think it means something?

There's only one way to find out, isn't there?

It's for you. The president.

It's ringing.

Good afternoon. Caesar residence. Bingo.

Hello. May I help you? Emil Muzz, please.

He's not here right now. This is Sergeant Friday, L. A. P. D.

Could you tell us where he is?

He's Mr Caesar's driver... and Mr Caesar's sailing on his yacht.

That's it. The limousine from the mansion.

Yeah, and Emil Muzz.

Let's check Enid Borden's description.


"Big, bad, stupid-looking. "

An exact match.

Police officers. Emil Muzz?

We need to ask you a few questions.

Blow it out your pants, cop.

Good, Muzz. Give yourself a hard time.

I'll drive!

What are you doing? Calling for backup.

Why? There are regulations for pursuit.

We're gonna follow every one of them. Forget it. This is our collar.

Our collar, huh? I think so.

Let me tell you something, Mr Lone Wolf.

The dedicated people of the Los Angeles Police Department are one big family... from my brother, the traffic cop, to my sister, the metre maid.

And when one of us makes a collar, we all make a collar.

Are you on any medication that as your partner I should be made aware of?

2-King-14. I am requesting a backup...

Oh, no! Ahh!

Look out!

Look out! Muppets.

Reckless endangerment of human life, wilful disregard of private property...

He's really racking up the violations. Not him, you!

Your ticket back to civilian life, Mr l-Like-To-Throw-The-Book-Out-The-Window.

That's a good idea.

Ever been to Hawaii?

Look out!

Surf's up, but not for you.

You'll be hanging 10 downtown. Read him his rights.

Emil Muzz, guess what!

You are under arrest!

Sit down, unless you're growing!

We've got you on '87 motre vehicle violations.

It's only time before we tie you in to one of those Pagan jobs.

And you stole your landlady's wedding dress... which is the only endearing thing about you, so talk to us.

Listen, you public pawn. My attorney's on his way.

We both know I'll be out on bail.

So take off these cuffs and open the door!

I wouldn't worry about the door. Scum who'd represent you would ooze under it.

Joe, why don't you go get a couple cups of coffee?

I could use one. You want anything?

Chewing gum, Snickers bar, and my attorney, badge kisser!

Well, Emil.

It's just you... and me... and your balls... and this drawer.

- -

4:15 p. m.

By the time I had returned with coffee, Muzz was singing like Beverly Sills.

He had been planning to attend a meeting that night at the Pagan clubhouse... but he refused to divulge the time or location of that meeting.

Muzz, let's run through it again.

You say you're a Pagan, but you work for Jerry Caesar. That makes you a plant.

Make it easy on yourself. Lead us to the stolen magazines.

Jump on this and spin, cop.

I'm not saying another word until my attorney gets here!

Joe... wouldn't a couple of Danishes go good with this coffee?

At 7:13 p. m. , Captain Gannon authorized us to stake out Muzz's clubhouse... located in the ecologically-balanced San Gabriel Mountains.

When a code-5 authorization for undercover surveillance is approved... officers proceed to the building where the department has research... on the precise behaviour and dress of today's average street gang member.

Friday, I think we finally found your look.

9:56 p. m.

We were issued appropriate apparel and withdrew from receiving... one distressed 1985 unmarked Ford sedan.

It's right up here, off highway 61!

Yeah. Probably some rat-hole roadhouse... where they watch TV and suck beers all day.

Uh-oh. Highway patrol. And they're pulling us over.

Licence and registration. What was the offence?

It's okay. They're Pagans. Yeah?

Yeah. Show 'em your card, Muzz, Emil.

Yeah, that's right. That's me.

Muzz, Emil. Emil Muzz.

I've been sick.

Sorry to bother you, fellas. We can't be too careful, huh?

We don't want any non-Pagans around here.

Especially tonight, right? Huh?

Follow us, fellas. The party's just starting!

Bogus cops!

No matter how many times I see that, it never ceases to disgust me.

People dressing up in strange clothes pretending to be who they're not?

Exactly! That kind of behaviour...

Just get out that list of stolen black and whites.

9-9-9-4-7-4. Oh, yeah, it's hot, all right.


Howdy. I'm Emil Muzz, and I'm a Pagan.

Good evening, Pagans.

Don't forget your goat leggings.

Must be every other stolen police vehicle on our hot sheet.

We're onto something here.

You think so?

I see school is out. Yeah.

All I can think of is 38 kids standing individually on lonely corners... waiting for a bus that will never come.

Put your goat leggings on and try to blend in.

Put it to sleep. Down, boys.

You have to admire their techniques in crowd control.

Yeah. Cosy little group. Just like your local Rotarians.

Listen, we get a little wild at times, sure... but nothing like this.

I'd say this is shaping up to be a little more than a series of robberies.

"People against goodness and normalcy. "



Nice work, Joe.

Ah, here are two who have not yet sipped the nectar of Shaitan.

Small surprise before the ceremony starts?

Why not?

You? I had a big lunch.


I, your High Priest... of living Pagan perfection... do call the name Gathool!

Do call the name Gathool!




Shaitan! Shaitan! Shaitan!

Prepare the virgin.

"Prepare the virgin. " I don't like the sound of that.

Let's just hope they're not referring to you.

With this bat...

I do consecrate.

With this bat, he does consecrate.

The Madagascar Bat from the zoo. Good eye.

With this lion's mane...

I do consecrate.

With this lion's mane, he does consecrate.

All that's missing is one humongous, 30-foot, groundhog-gulping reptile.

For the final touch to our brew tonight... a pristine virgin in a gown of white.

Evil bringeth here our plea.

She's as pure as she can be.

White and clean as driven snow.

From Orange County, here we go!

Two to one, that's Enid Borden's wedding dress.

Twenty to one, Enid Borden never looked that beautiful on her wedding day.

Virgin! Virgin!

Virgin! Virgin!

Friday! Let's move!


Can you swim?

Red Cross. Junior Lifesaver with clusters.

Silly me.

Friday! Streebek?

I found the snake.

Help! Help!

Help! Hang in there. I'm coming.

What goes on? Who are those two clowns?

Who are you?

Friday, Streebek, Los Angeles police officers.

Where are you from? Anaheim.

Her favourite colour is blue.

Jesus Christ! I'm about to be eaten!

Some big guys grabbed me off the street last night.

Were you sexually assaulted? No, thank God. They needed a virgin.

You're still a virgin?

My hat's off to you, ma'am. Hope you stay that way.

Streebek, quick! Do something. It's constricting.

Distract it.

Anybody need boots?

Stop them!


Kill the good! Kill the good!

Kill the good! Kill the good! Kill the good! Kill the good!

Kill the good! Kill the good! Kill the good!

You are under arrest.

You can remain silent.

If you waive that right, anything you say can and will be used against you.

For crying out loud!

How come his is so much bigger than yours?

Miss? The gun.

I've never needed more.

Come on, Joe!

Gosh! I'm terribly sorry!

Our car! We can steal it back.


I'll drive.

Forget it. We're responsible for a civilian's safety.

And frankly, you don't belong behind the wheel of a car.

Hang on and keep your head down.

Good driving!

Yes, you were wonderful.

Excuse me, miss. I never did catch your name.

Swail. Connie Swail.

Your name is Friday? Joe.




Pep Streebek.

Glad to meet you.

You certainly have a beautiful home, Miss Swail.

You bet. Can the Beaver come out and play?

Good night. Good night.

Will I ever see you again, Joe?

Absolutely. You're our main witness.

We'd like you to come downtown, take a look at the mug books... see if you can make a positive I. D. On the man you saw.

I'll have a policewoman come here tonight, keep an eye on the house... and bring you downtown to Parker Center tomorrow.

Here's my card.

You'll be needed for further questioning.

I don't know why, but... somehow I feel I could tell you anything, Joe.

Friday, January 9, 3:12 a. m.

We returned from Anaheim where we had dropped off the virgin Connie Swail.

I telephoned Captain Gannon at home, waking him.

After absorbing minutes of gratuitous verbal abuse...

I requested him to meet us as soon as possible at his office.

Come in.

Evening, Captain. Captain.

3:35 a. m.

We related the details of our successful follow-up on the Pagan robberies... and briefed Captain Gannon on the outlandish festival we had attended... even going so far as to demonstrate the goat dance... we had engaged in as part of our undercover role.

This music was pulsating over and over again.

Stop it!

At this point, Captain Gannon became quite upset.

He accused us of being on a drinking binge... and based on our appearance, seemed reluctant to contact the sheriff... to investigate the area.

Captain, call the sheriff's department. I have the directions to the compound.

Hay fever?

Illegal hallucinogenic love drugs.

The Pagans were taking them. We tried to fit in.

If it weren't for the drugs, we couldn't have gotten away from the snake.

The snake!

I forgot about the snake. How big did you say it was again?

30 feet. 20 feet.

We'd like to have you come to the crime scene and visually verify our report.

If you could call Commissioner Kirkpatrick... we believe this incident, because of its magnitude, is worthy of her attention.

Do you have any idea what time it is?

Yes, sir. Don't ask him that, Captain.

It's 4:27 a. m. , sir. He lives for that. It's in his blood.

Thursday, January 8, 5:45 a. m.

Having gained Captain Gannon's grudging agreement to contact the commissioner... and proceed with us to the San Gabriel Mountains... we eventually arrived at the scene of the previous night's debauchery.

What is this? Some sort of juvenile cop humour?

And where the hell is this supposed Pagan festival?

I can't understand it. There was a huge screen with Pagan vision written on it.

Yeah! Yeah! This was the hole that was filled with water.

We had to dive in to save the virgin being eaten by the giant snake.

Who are these painted cretins?

Two of my best men, ma'am. That's right. That's right.

They're heading up the Pagan investigation.

They were heading up the investigation. Now you may consider them off it.

But, Commissioner? Gannon.

What am I going to tell the press?

That now we are investigating invisible crimes on the word of two... trick-or-treaters?

You are a civilian and probably unaware the department's "regs"... authorize us to wear specialized apparel during a simulation surveillance.

I assume you were once a civilian. Yes, ma'am.

If you do not drop that insubordinate tone, you'll be one again soon.

Wait a minute, Friday.

I've never known you to act this way.

Certainly not the behaviour your Uncle Joe would have approved of.

You know the kind of man he was.

I suggest you try to be a little more like him from now on.

Yeah, sir. I'll try.


I'm sorry, Joe. He's not in any of these.

And I'll never forget his face.

Okay. I guess this officially closes my end of the investigation.

As far as your personal safety is concerned, I wouldn't worry.

That guy's probably 200 miles from here by now.

10:30 a. m. I picked up Streebek at his sanitationally-questionable commune... his apartment building in the "come as you are" section of Venice Beach.

The door was opened by Police Officer Betsy Blees... who had dropped by to chat about more effective methods of law enforcement.

They'd been playing a version of good-cop, bad-cop.

Though I was unable to fathom the rules, it seemed Streebek had lost this round.

Playtime was over... and it was back to routine duty for me and Pep Streebek.

Joe, I suddenly got very hungry. Let's grab some sushi.

We're late for our watch already, and raw tuna isn't my bag.

My hat was in that car.

I can tell who reblocked it for you. Pagans.

I need coffee.

I know where they serve the best in town. Come on.



I hate to admit it, but for once in your life you're right. This is good coffee.

You should try the French toast.

Joe, lend me 20 bucks.

Do I know you long enough to lend you money? I don't think so.

We've been ordered off the Pagans... but that doesn't mean we can't follow up on one of their thefts.

The trichlornitromethane and the pseudo-halogenic compound cyanogen.

There's one illegal lab in the city with the capacity, personnel and equipment... to mix those two chemicals into a deadly gas.

Narcotics has been waiting for months to bust this place. We can do it tonight.

Forget it. It's out of our jurisdiction now.

But this won't be a Pagan investigation. We can bring Narc in on it.

Police work is a matter of us against them, not "Mother, may I?"

Hi, Kay. How are you? I could find out where they set up the lab this week.

Oh? How? By you lending me 20 bucks.

6:30 p. m. After witnessing the gratuitous sex display... at Streebek's favourite coffeehouse and an outlay of $50 by me... to one of his old informants, I proceeded by Celebrity Cab... to 3396834108th Street... an illegal drug lab disguised as a legitimate place of business.

Streebek had gone to seek assistance from friends... in the undercover narcotics unit where he used to work.

It didn't surprise me that he was late... even though he knew I was waiting in a part of town... where it's not advisable to stand around whistling.

♪♪ Hey, zipper-head!

Up late tonight, kids?

Let's have one of your smokes.

It's an unhealthy habit I don't encourage in others.

Get smart. Give it up by not taking it up.

Thanks for the public service announcement.

Hand over your money, and I'll go buy my own smokes.

If you're that strapped for cash, I'd suggest a part-time job.

How 'bout a paper route?

It builds character. It did in my case.

Hey, we're not askin' you for your money, Ozzie.

No? No.

Are you threatening me, son? Ooh!

And on a school night, too.

Hit the deck!

I can't quite place it.

It tastes like...


Just like the sign said on the building before you obliterated it.

Fresh, wholesome milk.

You probably love this stuff, don't you?

Vitamin D, calcium... essential for good strong bones and healthy teeth.

But that's probably all Greek to you, isn't it, Mr Gingivitis?

7:15 p. m.

After explaining to the milk factory they could not take legal action... since we had properly obtained a search warrant... our apology was reluctantly accepted... and Streebek and I were on our way back to Parker Center.

After losing two previous vehicles we had been issued... the only car the department would release to us at this point... was an unmarked 1987 Yugo... a Yugoslavian import donated as a test vehicle by that country... and reflecting the cutting edge of Serbo-Croatian technology.

I've been thinking. Maybe your informant was right.

Maybe the Pagans anticipated our raid... and mixed those chemicals into a deadly gas before we got there.


Friday? That's me.

What do you like to do for fun?

I'm your partner, and I don't even know where you live.

That's right, mister, you don't.

Streebek, why are you always looking at your watch?

I'm watching my TV.

You don't like my music, you don't want to talk, so I'm watching my TV.

We're at the Law and Order Foundation dinner... where Los Angeles mayor, Peter Parvin, is fighting for his political survival.

Leading that attack again is Police Commissioner Jane Kirkpatrick.

Let's hear what she has to say.

This rampaging gang of Pagans has made a mockery of city administration.

Vehicles from the fire and police departments are stolen in daylight.

Deadly toxic chemicals are on the loose. What next, Mr Mayor?

In my opinion...

Mayor Parvin should consider the welfare of his constituents... and do the honourable thing:

Resign now.

You know, I think you and the commissioner would make a cute couple.

You both keep your jaws locked.

Plus you two share that curious affection for hats.

May I remind you that Commissioner Kirkpatrick... threatened to turn me into a civilian?

Yeah, I know. There was a gleam in her eye, though.

Put a clamp on it!

I have never been elected to public office.

I have always sought the approval of a somewhat higher power... for my actions.

The sad truth... is that we live here now in a city... where even a gross pornographer like Jerry Caesar... is not immune from lawlessness!

With this grim fact in mind...

I am relieved to announce tonight... that even Mr Caesar himself has bravely decided... to strike a blow in our common fight against crime!

Yes, sir! Yes, indeed!

This guy knows God personally. I hear they play racquetball together.

Just chuckle away. I don't hear God laughing.

You will once He sees your haircut.

My friends, in an unprecedented gesture of atonement...

Mr Caesar has agreed to donate the sum... of $1 million to my Moral Advance Movement.

7:52 p. m.

After witnessing the raging political turmoil on Streebek's puny TV...

I was really looking forward to the end of a rotten day.

Well, want to get something to eat? Not tonight. I have plans.

You do? What? What?

Where do you go? What is her name? Does she have a sister?

Good night, Streebek.

Truth is, I don't care where you go.

Yeah, I do. I gotta know.

I knew it.

It's Nightmare on Elm Street.

That would make him Freddie Krueger. -

We're gonna be driving along some night and the lighting's gonna be bad.

He's gonna mistake me for some pretty coed, and out comes that claw.

170 pounds of ground chuck.

Who knows what kind of thrill-seeking hose monster he's got stashed in there?

My God, he's dating Mother Goose! Hey, Joe!

Streebek, what are you doing here?

Who is this nice-looking young man? He's nobody.

My partner.

Streebek, introduce yourself to my grandmother, quickly.

Well, what a pleasant surprise.

Granny Friday.

She's my maternal grandmother. Her name is Mundy.

Why don't we discuss this over dinner? It's my birthday.

We're going to the Brown Derby. Do join us, Detective Swayback.

Streebek. Pep.

I don't think it's a good idea.

Why not, Joe? Yeah, Joe, why not?

I've invited someone already to join us, and you don't know her.

Her? Her?

Joe! You have a date?

I'm so proud!

Well, it looks like I have a date, too.

Granny Mundy, may I escort you to Joe's car?

I'd be privileged, Detective Startrek.

9:00 p. m. Exactly one night after witnessing the satanic cult rally...

I escorted my grandmother to her favourite restaurant, the Brown Derby.

There was someone I wanted her to meet, and it wasn't Detective Streebek.

Sergeant Friday, your table is ready.

I took the liberty of pouring the Dom Perignon.

What Dom Perignon?

I stopped and phoned in an order in honour of Granny Mundy's birthday.

You'd want her to have the most expensive kind, wouldn't you?

What a thoughtful gesture! Don't you think so, Joe?

Yes, Granny. It was very considerate of him.

Hello, Joe. Guess I'm early.

I was kind of excited.

You sly minx!

I'd like you to meet my maternal grandmother, Mrs. Grace Mundy.

Granny, this is the virgin Connie Swail.

You're kidding?


Well, allow me. The place of honour for Granny.

Thank you. Certainly.

And if I may, a toast.

To Granny Mundy.

May you live as long as you want but never want as long as you live.

Hear! Hear!


This is such a happy restaurant.

Commissioner Kirkpatrick, how nice to see you again.

Reverend Whirley, it's a privilege.

An aperitif, perhaps?

I once saw Alan Hale, Jr. In here.

Alan Hale, Jr! Wow! "Gilligan, little buddy!"

Don't order anything more expensive than the Cobb salad. That is an order.

Oh, my God!

Connie? That's him.

That man with the collar.

The Reverend Whirley?

He's the one who kidnapped me and threw me in that pit... with that horrible snake.

I'll never forget his face as long as I live.

You have to be sure about this.

How about very, very sure?

I'm positive, Joe.

That's him.

The face behind the mask.

The man who tried to kill me.

Would you testify to that under oath in a court of law?

Wait a minute. Settle down.

Let's think about this. That is Jonathan Whirley.

Head of the Moral Advance Movement of America. He's a public hero.

You can't just walk up to him... Streebek.

Vermin aren't allowed inside restaurants.

I'll be enforcing the public health code.

If you'll both excuse me...

I'm afraid the second-highest duty calls.

Joe, he is sitting with the commissioner and our captain.

Bust him now, tomorrow you'll be mucking out stalls at Horse Patrol.

Thank you.

I am sorry.

Hold it there, Whirley. Police Officer. You're under arrest.

I beg your pardon? Is this some sort of feeble joke?

Oh, it's a knee-slapper, if you consider Penal Codes 484207 A597 and 217... theft, kidnapping, cruelty to animals, attempted murder things to laugh about.

I don't know what you're talking about.

My partner and I witnessed that torchlight picnic you threw.

We're gonna put you where your kind always ends up: In a 7-by-7 cage... in some hundred-year-old penitentiary with a wooden plank for a bed.

Sure, this city isn't perfect. We need a smut-free life for all our citizens.

Cleaner streets, better schools, a good hockey team.

But the difference between you and me is you made the promise, I'm gonna keep it.

Our good reverend's an amazing piece of work, isn't he, Jane?

May I call you Jane? No.

Captain, Commissioner...

I demand an immediate explanation for this outrageous behaviour.

It's him again.

Are you insane?

Reverend Whirley abducted that girl, had his men throw her in a pit... filled with polluted water and a giant Bolivian jungle snake.

These accusations are preposterous!

I beg to differ. Ask him if he remembers 3,000 gallons of stolen... trichlornitromethane and the pseudo-halogenic compound cyanogen... which, when mixed properly, form a liquid fertilizer that burns... the throat, eyes, lungs, and nose, and could cause vomiting and death.

We're just about to eat here!

Reverend Whirley, please accept our most sincere apologies.

Sergeant, you will remove those handcuffs immediately.

Then you will hand in your badge. You are relieved from duty.

But... But... But, Commissioner...


Yes, sir. Ma'am.

I don't care. I'm absolutely humiliated.

I know the young man was overzealous, but he springs from a great tradition.

Commissioner, won't you please change your mind?

I'm afraid I'll have to take your badge and gun.

If we could just please... I don't want to discuss it!

Just hand them over.

Look, Joe, don't worry. I'm still on active duty. I'm building a case.

You're building nothin'.

If I ever hear you've come within one mile of Reverend Whirley...

I'll have your badge for breakfast!

Understood? Yes, sir.

It was very nice of you to try and take us out to dinner, Joe.

Yeah. Thanks, Joe, for everything.

Let's not stand around here moping. I'm hungry! Let's go for chili dogs.

Granny, have you ever eaten a chili dog off the back of a motorcycle?

Not till now.

You smooth-talking son of a gun.

Thank you. You're welcome.

I'm very sorry you lost your job, Joe.

I really did have a very good time.

I'm glad, Connie.

Now, fasten your seat belt. I can still effect a citizen's arrest.

I don't want to ruin a wonderful evening by bringing you in on a misdemeanour.

That was a joke.


Oh, Joe!

Look at the stars!

Dozens of them.

You know, when I was a little girl...

I used to wish upon a different star every night... for that special someone to come along.

Someone with whom I could share...


I guess that's not so unusual.

All girls do that, don't they, Joe?

Some guys do, too, Connie.

Joe? That's me.

Was there ever...

anyone else?

Of course there was.


Actually, I've only been driving with Streebek a couple of days.

Before that I was with Frank. That's not what I meant.

- -

Goodness! Earthquake! It's the big one!

Joe, help!

Request Code 3. Officer in distress.

Assist officer. I'll handle this. Calm down.

- -

January 9, 8:37 a. m.

My name's Streebek. I'm a cop.

I overslept.

Curiously enough, I still hadn't heard from my anal-retentive ex-partner... although I was sure he'd be proud to know I was making a concerted effort... to personally develop a close relationship... with one of my sisters in the Los Angeles Police Department.

I placed a call to the virgin Connie Swail... but according to the girl's mother, she hadn't come home either.

I don't know what to say, Mrs. Swail.

I'm beginning to be concerned myself.

No, Joe Friday has never stayed out all night, either.

The day he was born, his mother had him home by 9:00.

Well, let's both stay in touch in case we hear from them.

Thank you, Mrs. Swail.

Oh, my goodness. I'm gonna be late for my stake-out.

As enchanting as Robin was...

I still couldn't get my mind off what happened to Joe Friday.

For one misguided moment...

I actually pictured my ex-partner introducing that little cupcake... to the one piece of equipment that wasn't issued to him by the department.

But then I realized Joe would never spring for the price of a motel room.

And since having sex in a Yugo was a logistical impossibility...

I came to the conclusion that something must be wrong.

Who cares?

Listen to me, Captain.

Joe Friday was the most dedicated cop in this city.

Okay, so maybe all his dogs aren't attached to one leash.

He's thickheaded, insensitive and reactionary.

And generally less fun to be around than any person I've ever met.

Still, he was my partner.

You want to find Joe Friday?

My advice is to start checking out the sanitariums.

Hey, Pep. What's shaking?

Hey, you! Me, Pep?

Detective Streebek to you. Let's get this mop trimmed.

Stop shaving with a pocketknife, and next time you eat your lunch... put it in your stomach, not on your uniform.

You're a disgrace to this department and that badge.

You're late, Jerry.

I saw your announcement about my so-called million-dollar contribution.

Do yourself a favour, friend.

Try the lottery.

The lottery I can fix.

Our problem is Mayor Parvin.

I'm afraid he is not "going gentle into that good night. "

Say what?

That he is not responding to our pressure to resign.

We're gonna have to push him over the edge.

Your million-dollar contribution will insure his presence at your party.

Just make sure he turns into a drug-crazed idiot, with pictures.

Once he's politically dead, Commissioner Kirkpatrick... will be a shoo-in to replace him in the next election.

You and I will split control of the city.

You will monopolize all pornography.

Half the poor dumb sheep in Los Angeles will be forking over money... to buy your sleaze... while the other half will be funding me with the means to fight it.

Reverend... you got balls as big as church bells.

Thank you.

Jonathan, I do not trust that man.

Thank goodness he trusts me.

That socially-retarded hedonist... actually believes he's going to be alive tomorrow.

Where's Joe Friday?

It's no use.

These knots are too tight.

Untie the girl. She's coming with me.

You hypocrite. If you were decent, you'd let her go and kill me instead.


But, my dear Sergeant Friday, I'd always planned on killing you.

How do you see yourself going down in history?

Pagan or reverend, devil or angel?

Why, both, of course.

One can't exist without the other.

Without the Jerry Caesars, there'd be no moral outrage.

What's the good of moral outrage... unless you have something tangible to direct it against?

By this time tomorrow, thanks to that poison gas... you've been tracking like some flu-ridden bloodhound...

Mr Caesar will be sitting in that big Jacuzzi in the sky... and I'll control both sides of the equation.

Sure, but like every other psycho in this city with a foolproof plan... you've forgotten you're facing the finest fighting force ever assembled.

The Israelis?

Try the decent, hardworking men and women of Los Angeles.

Forgotten about them?

My dear Sergeant...

I'm absolutely counting on them.

Joe. -


You may have taken a wrong turn, but there's time to straighten out.

You're the one that's gonna straighten out, cop... all the way down the mountain.

Let's go, Streebek.

Just relax and hold on tight.

Tighter! Pretend I'm Connie. Ooh!

Look out! Look out!

There's no road here.

No road. Look out!

Look, there's the mayor.

Pretty clever of Whirley manoeuvring him up here to Caesar's party.

He's got both people he wants to eliminate in one place.

Hey, isn't that Whirley's car?

Good evening, Reverend.


I don't see Connie.

The next car comes, follow me in. Wait. You can't go in there.

When did you become Miss Manners? First, you don't have a warrant.

Penal Code 836: A police officer may make an arrest without a warrant... if he believes there's probable cause...

You're not a police officer any more.

I hate to be the one to break that to you, but it's the truth.

You charge in there now, you'll never get your badge back.

Whirley's the only one that knows where Connie is.

He'll tell or I'll shove that collar so far down his throat...

I'll have to take off his shoes to wring his neck.

You're not thinking like a cop any more. You're thinking like a man in love.

Watch your language, mister!

Oh, Joe, I...

You've never had these feelings before, have you?


I had a kitten once.

This is gonna be a little different. Connie won't be sleeping in a box... or meowing all night or climbing up your drapes.

Or maybe she will. You both are sort of starting from scratch with this thing.

Get out of my way!

Last time you went after Whirley, you got suspended. Now you'll get arrested.

On what charge, Junior? How about Section 146-A?

That's right. Impersonating a police officer.

It's for your own good, Joe.

In spite of every logical instinct I've ever had...

I consider you a real friend.

Wait. Joe, go home.

There's nothing more you can do here. Believe me.

By the way, my name is Pep.

It's not mister, junior, bub or Streebek. It's Pep.

Friendships start with first names...


Thank you so much for comin'.

Your Honour, pleased you could make it.

You, too, Reverend.

Let's just drop the fake civility. Okay, Caesar?

You have a cheque for the Reverend. I do, all in due time.

If it would make us all feel better... why don't I hold on to it until the formal presentation?

Well, whatever.

You're just in time. We're about to start our cultural talent show.

Why don't you pull up a pew next to me?

Reverend, I'm sure you'll find these gals socially redeemin'.

♪ Me me me me ♪

♪ Me me me Me me me ♪

♪ Me me me me me me ♪


♪ Oh, say can you see ♪

♪ By the dawn's early light ♪ How do you like those sweet pipes, Reverend?


Oh, yes.


I have a feeling this evening is going to be full of surprises.

♪ Through the perilous fight ♪

Thunderhead to Cloud 9. Do you read me?

Our hoses are in place. Start the gas when ready.

Cloud 9 to Thunderhead. We're startin' the gas.

Hi. Just need to use the phone. Who the hell...

The White Pages, my favourite. You ever actually reach out and touch someone?

See if you can get a line on the man they work with.

I'll be hitting Route 30. Keep me posted.

Hello. L. A. P. D. Captain Gannon there?

Yes, he is. It's work, dear. Thank you.

Thank you, Delilah. Hello.

Captain Gannon, this is Streebek.

Streebek? I'm up at the Caesar mansion.

I'm surrounded by Pagans. Call out S. W. A. T. They've got a small army here.

Reverend? I'll be leaving you in charge, Emil.

I'll be joining a special passenger... aboard my jet for a few restful days in Acapulco.

Don't forget to leave a Pagan card... so the police and Mr Caesar's next of kin... will give us proper credit for returning his magazines.

Oh, and, Emil... ever forward.

Police officers! Clear the road.

"Police officers.

Clear the road. "

Move it! Go! Go! Go! Go!

What the... Cops! Break out the weapons! Break out the masks!

We're pinned down. Hold your positions!

All right, boys, let's do it!

Thank God, it's Friday!

Hey, everybody, it's me, Pep. Good to see ya!

So long, hotshot.

Muzz, you weren't even born with the sense God gave the common dog.

Don't you realize that's my partner?


Thanks, partner.

Read him his rights, Pep.


You hear that, Emil? He called me Pep.

You have the right to remain silent.

If you give up the right to remain silent...

You know these words. Come on. Sing along.

♪ Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law ♪ You got a lifetime subscription to Bait, Dollies and Field and Cream.

You saved my house, my gals, my life.

I'll give you anything you want. Money, broads, automobiles.

Anything! Just name it.

How 'bout takin' your hands off my suit?


Joe, Jerry, Dona! Ava!

Whirley's headed to Mexico in his private jet.

He's got Connie. Let's move it.

Who's Connie? I don't know.

Wasn't she... Never mind. You hungry?

Yeah. Let's eat.

Friday, Streebek, good work.

I'll expect a full report.

Sure thing. If you'll excuse us, we have a fugitive to apprehend.

Wait a minute. I can't let you take a civilian with you on a hot pursuit.

But, Captain, please. Sorry, Joe.

You're gonna need this.

♪♪ I didn't have the heart to turn it in.

Yes, sir.

Don't just stand there, you petrified monolith of legal propriety!

Let's move! I'll drive.

You seem to be suffering from selective amnesia.

I outrank you. I'll drive.

Be careful. This is a dangerous road.

When are you worried about my driving, Mr l-Like-Life-In-The-Fast-Lane?

You just flew through a stop sign! It felt good.

Look out for that bump!

Don't you remember those films they showed us in high school?

Red Asphalt. Blood on the Highway. You picked two of my favourites.


I just heard on the police radio they've stormed the mansion.

They know everything. It's all over. We're finished.

Oh. The girl's aboard, of course?

Yes, but we might as well let her go. There's no point in keeping her.

You're absolutely right.

Watch for the police. I'll untie her.

Be calm.

Calm. Police.


All buckled up? Good.

You freak!

Ah! Freak. Don't worry, my dear.

You'll get used to me in time.

Jonathan, I think maybe...

Oh, my God!


Oh, my God! Jonathan!


Come on, Joe. Slow down!

What happened to those regulations on high-speed pursuits?

I thought you were safety-conscious. Close your eyes and think of Christmas.

Think of Christmas?

♪ Good King Wenceslaus looked out on the feast of Stephen ♪

♪ And the snow lay round about ♪ ♪ Deep and crisp and even ♪

♪ Brightly shone the moon that night though the frost was cruel ♪

♪ When the poor man came in sight... ♪ Try "Silent Night. "

He's gone. Let's go home. No, the runway.

We lost them.

I have eyes.

Streebek was right.

We had lost them.

Hi, Connie.

Oh, Joe! I'm so proud.

What a collar, Joe! I'm so happy for us. Connie.

Streebek, isn't there anything job-related you should be doing now?

No, nothing.

I could return our rent-a-wreck... and maybe file a report.

Good... because I have a whole lifetime to catch up on.

On February 21, a trial was held in Superior Court... in and for the County of Los Angeles.

The Reverend Jonathan Whirley was found guilty... on two counts of attempted murder... kidnapping, arson, obstruction of justice... and tampering with public utilities.

He is presently in the men's correction facility at Chino... serving 43 consecutive 99-year sentences... which makes him eligible for parole in seven years.

Monday, January 12, 8:43 a. m.

As for Streebek and me, we're back on day watch at Robbery-Homicide... where he still exhibits a blatant disregard for departmental procedure.

But I am somehow managing to keep this in its proper perspective.

Goodbye, Pep. Will you be coming over later?

Yeah, I have to. I'm wearing your underwear.

Late night last night, partner?

I thought the Christian Science Reading Room closed at 10:00?

Not that it's any of your business, Mr National Enquirer... but I had the pleasure of spending the evening in the company of Connie Swail.

Wait a minute. Connie Swail?

Don't you mean the virgin Connie Swail?


This is the city. It's a city of crime.

My name is Friday. I carry a badge.

3:15 a. m. , Thursday, January 15.

It was chilly that morning in the City of Angels.

On this occasion, we witnessed a Pagan ritual in progress.

♪ See that, Streebek We're just in time ♪

♪ We have stumbled into a major crime ♪

♪ They got the girl all frightened Now that's not nice ♪

♪ I think she is the subject of a sacrifice ♪

♪ Buddy, we're puttin' this party on ice ♪

♪ But first you know we really oughta read 'em their rights ♪

♪ Read 'em their rights Read 'em their rights ♪

♪ Well, I'm here tonight to rap about your rights ♪

♪ 'Cause right now you're in trouble ♪

♪ Don't have to say nothin' at all You all got two calls ♪

♪ And you better make 'em on the double ♪

♪ This is the city of crime ♪

♪ Don't step outta line ♪

♪ This is the city of crime ♪

♪ You better be clean ♪

♪ You're a dangerous mob And it is our job ♪

♪ To bust you all for being violent ♪

♪ While we are here let's state it clear ♪

♪ You have the right to remain silent ♪

♪ Well, excuse me, Copper Mr Crime-Stopper ♪

♪ What is wrong with what we're doin' ♪

♪ We just like to dance in our goatskin pants ♪

♪ Around this ancient ruin ♪

♪ Now it's not so funny that it cost big money ♪

♪ If you ever have to hire a lawyer ♪

♪ It's my duty to inform you and my pleasure to warn you ♪

♪ We'll provide one for ya ♪ Huh!

♪ This is the city of crime ♪

♪ Don't step outta line ♪

♪ This is the city of crime ♪

♪ You're lookin' at 7 to 9 ♪

♪ Now you know what you've been doing is a serious crime ♪

♪ And you'll probably be doin' some serious time ♪

♪ In case you might be worried about the friends you'll lose ♪

♪ At least they get to see you on the evening news ♪

♪ It's a new sensation ♪ ♪ We go down to the station ♪

♪ You're gonna answer some questions ♪ ♪ And have some refreshments ♪ What is your full name?

♪ Well, excuse me Excuse me ♪

♪ Don't use, abuse or refuse me ♪

♪ It's no joke I'm broke ♪

♪ But my rights I can and will invoke ♪

♪ I'm homely and I'm lonely ♪

♪ But the state cannot disown me ♪

♪ It ain't funny I might want money ♪

♪ To take home to my honey ♪

♪ This is the city of crime ♪

♪ Don't step outta line ♪

♪ This is the city of crime ♪

♪ Where an honest man is hard to find ♪♪