191. The Secret Agent

Are you sure we can’t be overheard?

I shouldn’t really be telling you this: don’t breathe a word – not even if Tom Hiddleston tempts you to swap confidences with promises of a ride on his motorbike.  I will deny all knowledge, if challenged.  I’m taking lessons from Boris on denial and will do so at bumbling length and in Latin.

This afternoon, ActorLaddie and I are on the secretest of secret missions.

In order to underline its secretosity, I had a secret email this very morning telling me to hand over my secret piece of paper secretly, so … “ the [secret word here] logo CANNOT BE SEEN by anyone in the queue.  Please be extremely discrete… not mentioning [secret word here], the survey, or [secret word here] whilst at the theatre.”

OK, the word ‘theatre’ is a bit of a give-away.  Truth is, we were initiated a while back into a clandestine organisation which enables you to get cheap seats for theatrical events which are not fully booked. I could tell you the name of the organisation but then I would need to kill you.

For this afternoon’s event, we are not only going to watch a play secretly but have agreed to complete a secret survey later.  I imagine this is par for the course for secret agents: Jason Bourne, I believe, has a particular preference for multiple choice: helps with his memory issues.   I’m keenly looking forward to questions of such secret incisiveness that Governments will quaver at the answers.

Dashing now for my secret train.  I do hope I don’t look overdressed in this rain-mac.

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