Cheese grater, nappy and dog-collar by Peter Fuller

‘I still can’t hear you, 007’. M said irritably whilst massaging his throbbing temples with his thumbs.  ‘I think that you are currently muted, James’.

M’s face was pale and his eyes were pouched with shadows. He dropped a second Alka Seltzer tablet into the glass of water on the desk in front of him and, whilst he watched it fizz, he resolved that there would be no more MI6 old-boy reunions for him for quite a while.  ‘The mute button is bottom left on your screen James.  It looks like a microphone with a red line across it.  Click on this once’.

007’s voice crackled faintly through M’s laptop.  ‘Can you hear me now, M?

‘Yes 007, but I can only see your left elbow.  Face the screen for goodness sake’. 

‘Is that better M?’

‘Ah, there you are 007.  Good God man, you look as bad as I currently feel.  I had no idea how much the Caracas assignment had taken its toll on you’.

007 refrained from informing M that on his bed lay the winner of Miss Venezuela 2014, who was currently cuddling the pillows and sleeping soundly and whose voracious and adventurous appetites through the previous night were the prime reason for his disheveled appearance.

‘Now listen carefully 007, we have a new mission for you.  The head of the biggest Columbian drug cartel, and also a member of S.M.E.R.S.H’s inner circle, Manuel Rodriguez, is away from his heavily-guarded fortress home and is currently attending a religious retreat in Honduras.  He will be there for just four more days, so you must act quickly’.

‘You will enter the retreat in the guise of a Vatican representative, one Monsignor Castella. I know how much you enjoy role-play in your assignments 007, so anticipate that you will love this one’.

M recognised Bond’s disordered appearance again and decided that some encouragement might be in order.  ‘It should be nothing more than a wheeze and a breeze for an agent like you, 007’.  Certainly, a wheeze greater than your last mission.’

 ‘I’m sorry, M, I didn’t quite catch all of that because of interference.  What was that about a cheese grater?’

‘Not a cheese grater, 007, I said a wheeze …!  Oh, never mind’.  M consumed the drink in front of him in a single gulp.

‘Do concentrate Bond.  We are sending over all that you will need; black shirt, cassock, dog-collar, and the rest.  And a warning 007, as you enter the retreat everything is taken away from you, so you will have no gun, exploding pen, a watch with a garroting wire, et cetera, so you will have to improvise when you are inside.  But now there is no time to lose on this exploit, so be snappy.’

‘I got most of that M, but did I hear you say something about an exploding nappy?’

M threw his hands in the air with frustration. ‘Yea Gods 007, I despair!’

Although M was exasperated beyond measure, he later wrote an aide memoire:  Discuss with Q the possibility of developing exploding nappies, something that neither the American nor the Russians have come up with I wager.  A first for Blighty, perhaps!

‘Now listen 007, we are booking you on the first flight out to Honduras this afternoon, so be ready.’

‘Did you say I fly out today?  I would much rather leave tomorrow morning, M, if that’s alright with you.  There is a small matter from my last mission that I still have to attend to’.

‘I thought that your Venezuelan assignment was all done and dusted, James?’

Bond glanced up and saw Miss Venezuela 2014 tiptoeing daintily from the bedroom to the bathroom and blowing him a kiss on her way.  ‘Don’t worry M, you may rest assured that I shall have put this particular Venezuelan issue well and truly to bed by tomorrow morning’.