Follow British Birdy Jones, who aspires to be the world's first pop whistling star, and his teenage manager Fixer Clarke as they wing from London to Aunt Lily's luxurious New York apartment, fill up with the food she pushes on them at home and in restaurants, and tour the old hat high class jazz spots she steers them to in an effort to further Birdy's career. Swallow if you can their meeting at the Blue Piccolo with Village sculptor Frank Smith, who sets them up in a crude cabin near Woodstock where they take in a grand a day selling his small carved wooden heads, for five dollars per. Share their surprise when the cabin is busted and it turns out that the green stuff in which the heads are boxed is (golly!) marijuana (""'Mary who?' said Birdy. 'You mean -- cannabis?'"") -- and their amazement in the final, frantic casualty-less shoot-out between the narcs, Smith's bunch, and a rival international dope ring which arrives just in time to add to the confusion. Harder stuff in the boxes might have made it all more credible, but it would take a toke from the head packing to make it seem funny.