I was reorganizing the horror section at work - yes, I'm that librarian who alphabetizes by subgenre - when I decided to throw on something completely different. Palate cleanser, you know? And somehow I landed on Officer 666, a 1912 farce about identity theft before identity theft was a thing. Sometimes you need a break from existential dread.
Here's the setup: wealthy heir Travers Gladwin is so bored with his privileged life that when he learns a famous art burglar is planning to rob his house, he doesn't call the cops. He becomes one. Borrows a uniform, stakes out his own home, and waits. The burglar shows up, sees the opportunity, and decides to pretend HE'S the wealthy heir. Then the burglar's girlfriend arrives, fully believing her criminal boyfriend is actually this rich socialite. It's chaos. Beautiful, ridiculous chaos.
When Farce Actually Works
I'll be honest - I went in skeptical. Early 20th-century humor can be... rough. The jokes that landed in 1912 don't always survive the trip to 2024. But Officer 666 surprised me. The comedy isn't built on dated references or problematic punchlines (mostly). It's built on escalating absurdity, the kind of snowballing misunderstandings that would make a screwball director weep with joy.
The premise is basically a theatrical door-slamming comedy in audio form. Every time you think the situation can't get more tangled, someone new walks in with the worst possible timing. It's not horror - obviously - but there's something almost Hitchcockian about watching (listening to?) characters dig themselves deeper into impossible situations. The dread of social exposure instead of supernatural doom. That same escalating tension - though with actual supernatural stakes - drives Camp of the Dog, where the dread builds beautifully.
The pacing does drag in spots. Around the middle, there's a stretch where the setup takes its sweet time getting to the payoff. I found myself speeding up to 1.25x during a few scenes, which helped considerably. The language is definitely of its era - some phrases feel like they're wearing a top hat and monocle - but it's more charming than grating.
Roger Melin Gets It
Here's where I have to give credit where it's due. Roger Melin understands that comedy requires commitment. You can't half-deliver a punchline and expect it to land. He doesn't.
His character voices are distinct without being cartoonish - the pompous burglar trying to sound aristocratic, the increasingly frazzled real Gladwin, the girlfriend caught between suspicion and hope. The timing is there. Comedy in audio is brutally hard because you don't have visual gags or physical humor to lean on. Everything lives or dies in the delivery, and Melin makes it work.
I couldn't find much about his other work online, but based on this performance, the guy has genuine comedic chops. The production is clean, no weird audio artifacts or volume inconsistencies. LibriVox quality can be hit or miss, but this one's a hit.
A 112-Year-Old Comedy That Still Lands
Officer 666 was adapted into movies multiple times, all apparently successful. That tracks. This is fundamentally a theatrical story, built for performance. The audiobook format actually serves it well because you're forced to imagine the chaos rather than watch it unfold. Your brain fills in the slamming doors and panicked glances.
Is it going to terrify you? No. (Shirley - my cat, not Jackson - slept through the entire thing, which is her way of saying it's not horror.) But it's genuinely funny, surprisingly well-constructed, and proof that some comedy transcends its era.
My podcast listeners probably won't care about this one - wrong genre entirely - but for anyone looking for something light, clever, and perfect for a commute or afternoon chores? This delivers. Just maybe bump up the speed a notch during the slower stretches.
Who's This For?
If you're looking for something completely different from your usual fare - especially if that fare is dark and heavy - give it a shot. Skip it if you need your comedy fast-paced throughout or can't tolerate period language. But sometimes the best palate cleanser is a 112-year-old comedy about a bored rich guy who should've just called the police.
