From a review of The Oxford Book of Literary Parodies;

Mark Crick's take on Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe—not solving a case but preparing a leg of lamb: "I sipped on my whiskey sour, ground out my cigarette on the chopping board and watched a bug trying to crawl out of the basin. I needed a table at Maxim's, a hundred bucks and a gorgeous blonde; what I had was a leg of lamb and no clues. I took hold of the joint. It felt cold and damp, like a coroner's handshake."

Love it....