[David Caruso (as Lieutenant Horatio Caine, ‘CSI: Miami’) stands on the deck of a large boat and surveys the exotic shoreline of Weston-super-Mare - Who could exchange such delights for the Florida Keys? – drizzle, a burnt-out pier, barbecued donkeys, the Wurzels in rehearsal... What happens in the winter season, he wonders?

Since his arrival in Britain he has swapped his designer clothes for some very fetching sky-blue waterproofs – and a Filipino midget has been employed to shadow him everywhere for the sole purpose of wiping his dark glasses each time he puts them on. Last night they had an interesting soirée in a sauna cum jacuzzi at the Dorchester with a call girl named Tweezers, after a chance encounter in a kebab shop. The extra chilli sauce required special lens cleaner.

He has ditched his usual private investigator, the glamorous one from the Sopranos, with the tanned nipples and plastic pout. Amongst other things, her poses to camera were getting more media attention than his own. Instead he has adopted some local totty for this case. In the form of Joan Hickson, as Miss Marple, in black and white. A frustrated British police force have assigned them to the seemingly unsolvable murder of Miss Jill Dando.]

MISS MARPLE:  You may consider yourself all very up to the minute, Leftenant, [Caruso clenches teeth and buttocks – Colombian paedophile drug-trafficking priests he can handle, but limey old fruit bats who mispronounce his job title…] ...with all your fancy DNA and your e-mails and satellite aerials, but I draw solely on events in my own past. And no crime has occurred in my lifetime which I have not experienced in the village of St. Mary Mead.

[Shot of Radovan Karadzic selling rose-hip tea in quaint English country market, lamenting the decline of rural bus services with Angelina Jolie clutching Madeleine McCann]

CARUSO: [Turns slowly and deliberately sideways, hand on hip, towards Miss Marple (but no eye contact at all costs)] Has your Hummer ever exploded… [other hand now poised to remove sunglasses]….. on a dark desert highway… [removes glasses] … just after you’d parked it… [very serious expression] ….next to a nitro-glycerine cactus?

[He waits for his words to trigger the dramatic CSI: Miami intro music – The Who – ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ – but nothing?]

MISS MARPLE: Why would I be vacuum cleaning at night on a motorway, you silly man? And if this “limey old fruit bat” wants to pronounce it Leftenant, she jolly well will. Would you like a piece of my Malmesbury shortbread?

[Hang on, can she read his mind? He’s the one who finishes the conversations – there’s no comeback from half-witted, frigid, tweed-clad spinsters. Not even a cockroach would dare break wind after his big one-liner just before the intro music. Looks around. Then again, she has somehow managed to assemble all the suspects in the Jill Dando case on a single fishing trawler off the coast of Somerset. With room to spare for eighteen tons of haddock.]

[Well, not quite all the suspects… a frogman emerges from the water and clambers over the rail. On his diving suit are written the words “Barry George”. After 47 trials and appeals, the British police have finally admitted that he may be not guilty, and his defence that he was “stalking someone else at the time” is beyond reasonable doubt. But he still likes to be included in the investigation.]

CARUSO: It appears… [Filipino midget hands him polished sunglasses] ...our chief suspect… [turns to camera, puts sunglasses on] … is right on cue…

[Waits expectantly. Still no damned music?]

BARRY: Sorry I’m late, Miss Marple. Bit behind with my scrapbook for that new Channel 4 weather girl. And the reconstruction of Gloria Hunniford’s washing-line in my basement.

MISS MARPLE: That’s quite all right, Barry. I eliminated you from my inquiries ten seconds after a senior British police officer pointed the finger at you. It’s a method that’s served me very well over the years.

[There is only one more suspect. The figure in black near the foremast, with the balaclava and the words “Serbian Hit-Man” printed across his chest]

MISS MARPLE [contd.]: You see, gentlemen, there are one hundred and thirty-five theories as to who the real culprit is, ex-lover, anti-Kosovan contract killer, psychotic fan of the BBC Holiday programmes… and only one person fits them all. If you would oblige, Manolo…

[The man in black bends over, allowing the Filipino midget to remove the balaclava. It is, of course, Cliff Richard. The British nation slaps its collective thigh, how did they miss all the tell-tale signs, only a dotty old bag from rural Hampshire would have the perspicacity to see through such a cunning guise].

MISS MARPLE: You did have me fooled for a little while, Sir Cliff, but I was perusing some old knitting patterns this morning and remembered your controversial Eurovision entry in Belgrade. Only a complete buffoon would imagine you were there for the singing, and not to meet the Chief of the Yugoslav Secret Police.

[Ever the gentleman, Cliff holds up his hands. Given the dreary weather conditions and his respect for pensioners (inc. Sue Barker), he wonders momentarily whether a quick chorus of ‘Congratulations’ might be in order. Caruso is none the wiser, and just hopes he can get the stench of haddock out of his sunglasses in time for CSI: Miami, Season 17]

CARUSO: Sometime, Miss Marple… [poised to remove dark glasses] …you must visit my hunting ranch, and school of acting… [dramatic removal of sunglasses] …in the Everglades… [shot of elderly lady being violently consumed by an alligator].

MISS MARPLE: And I insist that you, Leftenant… [raises cup of steaming elderflower infusion to her mouth] … come to our local Whitsuntide fete…  [adjusts her pince-nez] …. in St. Mary Mead… [shot of a blood-soaked Horatio Caine being dragged by evil chanting morris dancers through a market square towards a large cross, with a close-up of a bell-adorned boot trampling over a pair of sunglasses]

[Short dramatic pause, allowing Miss Marple to sip her tea]

MISS MARPLE [contd.] Wanker…

[The CSI: Miami intro suddenly starts – The Who – ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ - the old witch has triggered it with a one-liner of her own! – even Cliff’s started harmonising - Caruso’s head begins spinning 360 degrees, which complicates the sunglasses routine – Enough! Miss Marple must rush, there’s a naked corpse of a librarian in the vicarage with a dagger between his shoulder blades and his wedding tackle caught in a mousetrap. Inspector Slack has found a speck of gunshot residue on a passing butler, etc…]