In order to claim a family inheritance our hero must first get married. Cripes. Poor Frankie.
We're in France during WW2 and intrepid Frankie has to contend with both the french resistance and occupying forces. He will need to use his loaf to deal with this one. Ooooh no missus.
Frankie is in hospital to have his tonsils out. A chirpy doc decides to help him out with his innuendo. Meanwhile, the nurses have their own ideas what needs removing - 'No dear, it's me tonsils....I said TONSILS.'
Frankie stops at a police station to ask for road directions but gets roped into an ID parade instead. Surely no one is going to point a finger of accusation at such an innocent looking face.
WW2 is over and the boys are back into civvies. The last thing Frankie needs now is to get involved with his ex-superior's over amorous wife. Titter ye not you common lot.
Frankie becomes a private detective and investigates an unfaithful husband. Sadly, an initial rummage around in the loft with the french maid comes up short on clues.
