Once again, Decoder Ring Theater presents another page from the casebook of that Master of Mystery,

that's Sultan of Sleuthing, Martin Bracknell's immortal detective, Black Jack Justice,

starring Christopher Mott as Jack and Andrea Lyons as Trixie Dixon Girl Detective.

The name's Justice.

Jack Justice.

They say that music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.

Well, actually, no, they don't.

William Congreve said that,

and some well-meaning censor had the R removed, presumably to keep

the boys in Miss Nichols' English class from jump-starting into puberty even faster than

they would, watching Miss Nichols' clap erasers.

Or maybe that was just me.

And so the savage breast became the savage beast.

Peace was restored, and I like to think that more than one apprentice lion-tamer came to an unpleasant end, putting that proverb to the test.

All of this is at least somewhat beside the point.

The point is that Trixie and I had spent five days in the company of musicians and had, for the most part,

found the experience neither particularly charming nor in the company of musicians and had, for the most part, found the experience

neither particularly charming nor in the least soothing. In fact, what I remember about it went

a little bit more like this.

Hey! Hey what? I think I hate this.

Did you get one? I don't know.

I thought it would one go down.

...