CRUISING WITH JANE MCDONALD
INT. LEATHER BAR
A dimly lit basement club, dark, sweaty, filled with bodies moving to the beat of the music.
We pan across the bar, moustachioed men in leather jackets and peaked caps link arms with shirtless tattooed muscle men smoking Marlboro Reds, cigars, drinking shots and sniffing poppers.
On the walls men are tied by chains, harnesses and restraints by more men, some in masks, others in flannel shirts, sunglasses and chaps. A bearded man slaps a paddle onto his hand them whips it across the bare cheeks of a man doubled over a leather gymnasium horse who screams with pleasure with every beating.
This is New York. This is 1979. This is for real men who like men and who like it hard and through the night.
We move through the men, fifty or so, hot, sweating, dancing or fucking, we move through their bodies and smoke until we reach the entrance to the club - above the chainlink door into the club is a red neon sign that lights the dance floor, it reads - MEN ONLY.
A hand grips through the metal grid door and pushes it open. Sat at the bar a beautiful, moody YOUNG MAN, 21, lets the cigarette in his mouth drop so it hangs off his lip. He stares intently at the door, enraptured by the newcomer entering the club. They don't often get fresh meat. Who could this enigmatic stranger be?
Oh my God! I just love gay bars!
JANE MCDONALD, 57?, former star of BBC 1's The Cruise bursts into the Leather Bar - she's obviously dripping with jewelry she bought off the covered market, wrapped in a pink feather boa and wearing her best sequinned dress from Lipsy (which still has the tags on).
Jane is the NYPD's top undercover cop, her latest case is a series of brutal murders in the gay leather sex community that have left five men dead over the last month. Jane's superiors are hoping she will approach the murders with a level of stealth and gravity that befits the seriousness of such a case
Eee you don't get clubs like this in Wakefield!
She waves at a muscle bear tied to the wall with a snooker ball gaffer taped into his mouth.
Pete, how you keeping? Not seen you since we did The Princess Katherine on the Med! You look great, so tanned...how are the kids?
Jane skips over to the bar.
Tia Maria and whatever he's having...
She gestures to the bar man to fill up the YOUNG MAN's whisky -
Thanks. (He offers Jane his hand) I'm Brad.
Jane is distracted by a guy on a podium gyrating in a leather cod piece.
Ooo- you don't get many of them to the pound!
Hey, I recognise you from the precinct. You here looking for the creep who killed my friend...?
Jane shoves a handkerchief soaked with amyl nitrate into the young man's mouth -
Eee Brad you don't half waffle on!
She drags the young man to the dance floor where she whips off her feather boa and wraps it around a mean looking muscle daddy in a biker jacket, chewing on a cigar.
Jane stands on a table and starts singing "I Am What I Am"...
I've not had this much fun since I was on the ships! I love cruising! And I. LOVE. THE. GAYS!
The leather bar spins and turns into a badly green screened full on production number of "I AM WHAT I AM" sung by Jane (in impeccable voice...she's still got it, folks!) with leather-clad background dancers, a giant mirrorball and a billowing rainbow flag! Jane's back and she's out and PROUD!
FADE TO CREDITS