In all honesty I have been struggling to recall anything vaguely humorous that has happened to me of late.. I know this is not what my publishers.. or their advertising agents... want to hear.. but Dammit man... this is the Heathen Hell of Yaarh'Gul (The Unseen Village) not an End of Pier Dinner Dance in Clacton on Sea!
I have been told by that ill-breathed gin-sump FT Kipling to - simply - describe what I can see out of my window in a comical and jocular tone... so...let it not be said that I am unwilling to take direction for the plebian horde's entertainment!
At this point of time my "window" is a disturbed miasma of atomic non-dust that - occasionally - discloses a Giant Screaming Eye!!!
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| A large Eye occasionally comes into view... |
Oh Dammit, Bessy is waving something at me.
Apparently in a few minutes I will receive camera and photographic stock through the Char-hag Portal to Piccadilly...
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Lottie Sweetlocks bids U a secretive welcome!
...I trip gaily in, through the benign intervention of those dashing Gents at Bletchley Park (Locked up for hours with their dry Logbooks, they must be dangerously thrilled on receipt of my girlish communiques..).
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| Agent Sweetlocks - Brittannia's most seductive Spy!! |
Har Har... I jest of course, It is Sir Hugh Berwick-Stanton here, undercover for her Majesty's Secret Service.
I must confess it feels a corseted lifetime ago since I contacted my old bridge and Polka partner Mycroft Holmes at the Ganymede club to discuss my patriotic fears...
Mycroft...a seasoned Spymaster for Empire since being recruited in the Harrow Junior Footlights, has fought her Majesty's wars in places and times unbeknownst to all but a handful of Imperial Spooks!
It was he - who, in whispered and coded terms - ordered me to don petticoat, stockings and fetching ankle boots for Queen and country ...
As the last bastion of subterfuge against the cunning Hun, my mission was to re-infiltrate Pickman Publishing. And then - as a lace gloved and rouge-cheeked agent of espionage - bring their dark, devilish plots into the righteous light of judgement.
But... it was not an easy charge to accept. It took me at least 10 - 20 seconds of feverish cogitation to decide in favour of this gender-swapping deception.
And I must confess, as a rough-handed Son of Empire (of strong-loined Hampshire stock), learning the ways of womanly charm and fragrant seduction was a fearful endeavor.
But with Emilia's ceaseless diligence, I (within a nights span) developed the attitude and simpering coyness of a fair maid.
Sir Hugh Berwick-Stanton was transformed from the base matter of Writhing Manhood.. into the Fluttering Lepidoptera you see before you.
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| A Patriotic and Manly Transformation |
It has not been easy to maintain my virile identity...being so long undercover.. and having to suffer the vile amorous attentions of foreign hands and eyes. I admit, it can sometimes confuse and muddy your sense of duty and purpose.. but rest assured I remain resolute!
I will bring this foul sordid conspiracy to justice...here are some of my findings, and Lord help me but I feel this depraved endeavor is just the tip of the Teutonic Iceberg!!!!
Oh gosh... out of time again... a tender kiss and girlish blush...your beloved... Lottie Sweetlocks x x x
A brave endeavour indeed, Sir 'U'. We applaud your patriotic yet enticing efforts to protect Queen and Country!
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