“Wally, now we are in trouble!” said P. “You
ain’t wrong there sir” replied Wally, squelching as they walked, “do you know of anywhere that sells socks?” he
asked.
“Pull yourself together man, this is serious! Right, change of plan” said P forever
thinking on his feet. “Leave your pots, you won’t sell any anyway,
and shadow that no good son of a bonsai wherever he goes, understand?”
It appeared, as usual, that Wally had got the shite end of
the stick, but orders were orders he thought.
Life had been so much easier before Shiten,
he pondered, as he trudged sloppily towards the gents to wring out his
underwear. Things had indeed been a lot
easier when he was just a member of the MBS,
no pressure to perform, just monthly rounds of tea & biscuits and sometimes
even cake! How times had changed. Shiten had fast earned a reputation for being
the “shite of the shite” and keeping
up this standard was weighing heavily on our hero*. “I
don’t know how much longer I can do this” he said to himself staring deeply
into the mirror. His beleaguered and
haunting reflection looked back and agreed “We’re
getting too old for all this shit!”
 |
| No matter how much Wally used he never pulled a bird as advertised! |
With his thong finally dry, courtesy of the toilet hand
dryers, Wally emerged with a spring, rather than a squelch, in his step
determined not to let the Shiten Secret
Service down. The distinct Wally Wiff of too much Hai Karate filled the air making
discreet investigations nearly impossible so a subtler approach was
needed. “Anyone seen Gingemember?” repeated Wally to anyone who came close
enough and hadn’t passed out from his aftershave. Not very subtle but it was all the dim-witted
Bonsaist could think off. The results? Nothing, not a sausage, had been seen of the Bellend of Bonsai for hours and the
Japanese VIP was still intact so had Northern
Nutter bolted or simply been burnt to a crisp by the warm Spring sunshine? Reports began to filter back from other
Agents, that could actually DO their job, that the original Man from C&A had actually left his
hitman suit at home and had had to go out shopping for a replacement hence becoming
the Arse from ASDA! With this news a plan began to evolve in
Wally’s brain.
Several hours later when he had finally decided on “his”
plan he sought out the returned Gingemember. It didn’t take long for Wally to find him
and upon finding him was greeted with “What
do you want shitface?” from the ever-polite Mr Jones. “I
thought that I could do you a favour as you do like your beer and all”
reply the suitably shocked Agent. “And ’ows that then?” came the
response. “Well, how about I be your chauffer for the evening?”
The evening was warm and sunny as the Frogmobile crunched its way up the drive to the plush Cobham hotel
that housed Baldfeld’s agent. The
picturesque Days Inn Hotel gleamed
under the haze of diesel fumes from the M25 as Wally’s “guest” for the evening
wobbled out of reception towards his awaiting carriage. “Where
the fuck have you been?” asked the impatient assassin. “Nowhere”
reply Wally with a grin. He had, in
fact, been somewhere as he and P had cased the joint for the Gala Dinner and
where Wally was given his final instructions.
It appears, that in the correct quantities, that Duval can be quite deadly to Gingers of a certain disposition, so
the plan was clear – get him bladdered and keep the Japanese VIP safe at ALL
COSTS!
(*Again, we use this term VERY loosely!)
