The Lives of a Bengal Dancer

Being a private investigator means two things. You can be sure you'll run into trouble and you can never be sure you'll get out of it. What much you can do about it I guess except like Julie always says, Works up please, please a try.

And now Peter Troy investigates the lives of a Bengal dancer. It's a well-known fact of life in show business that the fans are very fond of the exotic. In London for instance A guy gets up on stage and sings an affair and a voice and maybe he goes down okay.

But if the same guy sings with a French accent and changes his name from Peter to Pierre, he's a wow. In Paris the Folly Bégére has a leaning towards English dolls for its chorus line.

In Japan a blonde doll will go down much better than a brunette because all Japanese girls are brunettes anyhow, and a Japanese man. Well a blonde is something out of this world. All of which brings me to a certain dancer from India named Karisha, who swore the beauty my secretary Julie viewed with a somewhat jaundiced eye.

I'll miss you when we leave Calcutta beautiful. No doubt about that. And I'll miss being his dad. I've enjoyed working at this club. You know, it's funny how in England people just don't realise they have clubs out here that are just the same as ours.

Yes, that's right. That's pity your contract had to run out. I've really had enough of the East for a while. I've been all over and this is my second time in Calcutta. You can't work the circuit to death, you know.