Club Paradise Page #2

on this island.

Try and find a decent chef,

or even a decent cut of meat.

And as for help, I guarantee there isn't

a single native on this island...

who's given a decent day's work

since they outlawed flogging.

Refreshing outlook.

Fiery Jack, see you've made contact.

Mr. Reed, Miss Phillipa Lloyd.

Mr. Toby Prooth.

Mr. Reed is the owner, manager,

and musical entertainment director...

- Here at Club Paradise.

- Welcome.

Toby here was just reminiscing

about the good old days.

Flogging, slavery. Honest day's

work for an honest day's beating.

- Gone but not forgotten.

- Phillipa, really, can we go?

I feel a colossal headache coming on.

I feel one just about to leave.

Why don't you run along?

I think I'll stay a bit.

- Suit yourself.

- Good idea.

Take care. See you in the 17th century.

- Will you join us?

- Oh, thank you.

Hello.

This is Miss Philadelphia.

- Hi.

- Hi.

This your first time in Saint Nicholas?

Excuse me.

What can I do for you, Mr. Gundy?

Nice to see you again, Ernest.

Nice to see you, too, Mr. Gundy.

Ernest...

I come to you tonight

because I am deeply, deeply concerned.

Now, when I became

Prime Minister of Saint Nicholas...

I told you to come to me

if you had any problem.

Now, as Minister of Finance

and Minister of Tourism...

it has come to me...

that you are delinquent in your taxes

to the amount of $6,000...

and that you haven't paid

your food and beverage taxes...

violations of the tourism codes...

and reports of ganja being smoked

right here on these premises.

- How can this continue?

- Divine justice, Mr. Gundy.

Life is full of miracles.

I'm afraid it will take more than a miracle.

Listen to me, Ernest.

There is a new wind

blowing across Saint Nicholas.

I smelled it the minute you walked in.

It's businessmen.

You and your bankers and your lawyers...

are trying to business me out of here.

Now, if you're not drinking and

you're not dancing, you better be going.

Still. Still. Stay.

Take that...

Two weeks.

Then I'll crush you like a cigarette butt.

And I haven't forgotten you,

Mr. Hook and Ladder Man.

- Fireball!

- Easy.

You're not going out there unless

you got a machine gun under that shirt.

- Now, you need a lawyer.

- I don't need a lawyer, man. I need money.

Cool vibes, everyone. Part yourselves.

What was all that about?

Oh, the usual. Corruption. Injustice.

The club's doing great.

What's the problem?

The problem is,

my friend's a little behind on his taxes.

About 300 years behind.

He's gonna lose the club.

That's too bad.

This looks like a great beach.

You know, with a bit of paint

and some new shutters...

somebody could really make

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