I WORK FOR A Top Secret government department. No-one knows about it except the Prime Minister, her closest confidantes (generally the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Foreign Secretary), the King and the department’s operatives, such as my good self. Everyone in it has a pseudonym. These change so often it’s hard to keep up. If a bad bastard knows me, or has even heard of me, it’ll be by an old pseudonym or simply by legend as the organisation for which I work is more secret than MI5, 6 and 7 put together. Even they don’t know much about it. MI1-4 know nothing about it at all.
I’ve been working for MI8 (not the department’s real name of course – disclosing that could put the country at risk) for quite some time now. It could be ten years, but it could equally be 20. I guess that depends on how many movies they can base on my adventures.
In some respects I’m the archetypal hero – suave, sophisticated and possessed of enough one-liners to create an entire volume of comedy encyclopaedias. In others, I’m just a regular guy who takes pride in his job and likes the trappings of wealth that working in such dangerous, unpredictable and violent environments bring.
I know krav maga, kung fu, MMA and how to do the hucklebuck. My collection of lethal gadgets makes Q Division look like Fisher Price. I can drive as well as Lewis Hamilton and Colin McRae. I’m not as big as Jack Reacher, nor as handsome as James Bond, but I’d knock both of them out if they wanted a piece of the action.
And I’m real, whereas they’re not.
I’m not one for over-egging the pudding when it comes to describing my exploits, so I’ll cut – more or less – to the chase. All info I share with you is classified, so if you tell anyone else I’ll have to kill you.
A Dutch friend of mine called Jan has a hot tip for me. It's at the end of a giant blunt. Not really - he's convinced his countrymen will continue their fine run of form against the abject Czechs. "We'll bounce them, for sure," he remarked, in his Ruud Gullit-style voice.
Best price is around the 8/11 mark. It's nothing mega, but the steady drip fills the champagne bucket.
Enjoy the football.
I'm off for a bit of risky espionage.
Good luck & happy punting,