Casablanca Blues: The Screenplay

An image had rooted itself in my mind.

That of an ingenuous fresh-faced American arriving at Casablanca's airport at the start of a mid-life crisis.

I could see him clearly.

Dressed in a crumpled old Burberry raincoat and fedora, he was a clone of Humphrey Bogart of Rick's Café Americain.

Each night before I drifted off to sleep, I allowed myself to imagine the adventures of the Casablanca-obsessed visitor.

Within a week or so I had an entire storyline planned out.

Drilling down into the dark sid...