And so on to Istanbul with it's seedy opium dens and it's pleasantly scented yet slightly obscene pencils. I hastened to the nearest hash-house, slumped deftly in to the first vacant Bubblebooth and ordered a Hilp of Morrocan Wubwub (a delicate blend that made your face feel like an elephants fanny). I toked until I began to drool uncontrolably. It was then that I noticed a sense of despair hanging ominously in the room like a fat uncle's after dinner parp. It was this sense of unease that led me to glance up from the copy of the Evening Standard in to which I had been quietly dribbling . There in the booth opposite was the Girraffe's assistant - a easily excitable chimp called Doris who's main hobbies seemed to be talking, shagging and talking about shagging. She sat cradlling a rather docile looking Pit Bull that suckled greedily on her hairy teet.I gathered my things and made for the door discarding the flob-soaked newspaper into a gaily coloured basket that for some reason had been named Timothy. I stabbed a passer-by neatly in the eye with a pleasantly scented yet slightly obscene pencil and merged into the insuing chaos like a wasp in a bowl of Sugar Puffs. As I escaped into the murky dusk I pondered my situtation. Was I being followed? Were the Girraffe's minions after me? I needed information and knew exactly where to get it...

The morning was damp and clingy like handfuls of wet toilet paper being flung at you by a mad old woman with a commode fixation. I had just arrived back in London with a renewed sense of purpose and a bag of over-sized root vegetables (in this city you were never too far away from a jisum drenched deviant or haggle-titted nob goblin who would happily rat out thier friends for a quick thrill).
I set off in search of Lewis the Pig, an ex-agent who had been recently disgraced in the "Marmalade Underpants" scandal.My bribes proved sucessful and I arrived at the "Greasy Underbelly Cafe" half an hour later and several vegetables lighter. I sat nervously facing him desperatly trying to hide the disgust I felt at his snot-encrusted face and gravy-sodden pants.
We exchanged pleasantries for awhile before I steered the conversation expertly towards the department and his former life. We talked of the Girraffe and of Doris but I got the distinct feeling that, on this subject at least, he was lying to me. When I told him this he became quite flusterd and lost grip of the enormous pie he had been eating, juggled with it a few times, then promtly set fire to his trousers by upsetting the table lamp with an involuntary trotter spasm. He leapt from his seat and began flapping about the place like a headless chicken who had just remembered it had left the iron on. I did the only thing I could think of - I grabbed a servant and used his face to smother the flames. As the smoke cleared Lewis heaved himself off the floor and stared at me blankly. I was about to quip that his unfortunate trouser inferno was proof that he was lying when he mumbled something about pasties and saunterd off, no doubt in search of something to either comsume or have sex with.
Damn! A dead end. I would have to try something else...

When I arrived back at HQ there was a hum of excitement around the place. I was led into the basement and confronted by stack of dusty old monitors. I looked around nervously, this was all very strange. A screen crackled to life in front of me and my mission was revealed.
Apparently that mad old dictator general Roobs had invaded neighbouring Shatistan and our boys were being sent in to sort the whole mess out. Charlie company would form the first big push closely followed by Dave squadron with the Royal Betty Corps and 4th Armoured Mildred Division bringing up the rear. I was to be part of a covert operation to rescue two agents who had been part of a covert operation to gather covert information on enemy covert operations. Agents Button and Mushroom were being held by a group of crack Gorlillas who were demanding a ransom of five crates of bananas and a kilo of crack. It was going to be tough and truth be told I was crapping it.
We were dropped behind enemy lines at 0600 hours and crept our way silently towards the Gorilla's underground lair. I was still nervous and the urge to break wind was overwhelming. I knew a god-almighty fart could blow our cover so I grasped a reed of swamp grass between my quivering buttocks and let rip hoping to disguise the sound as the guttural honk of an enraged Goose. Unfortunately I was on a high fibre diet (doctors orders) so the sound that emitted from my rear was more akin to a donkey drowning in a vat of custard. Later my Commanding Officer, who had once been a Spycatcher, insisted that our position had been given away by a leak from the top - but I alone knew that it was a leak from my bottom that had really been our downfall...

The dungeon was dark and cold. Minutes seem like hours when you are hung naked facing a stone wall with various pieces of fruit inserted up your anus. Lewis the pig had enjoyed torturing me but he had gotten nothing except my name (which he already knew of course) and a few squeals of agony. Ironically I had gained more information from him, not only was he a massive pervert but also a complete moron. I discovered what I had suspected all along - he was working for General Roobs (the mad dictator whom I’d been battling for most of my career).
Now alone I set about my escape. Luckily all agents are issued with nose picks for just this kind of situation. At the start of every mission a tiny metallic whittling implement is inserted into the farthest reaches of the nasal cavity. I knew if I could get it in my mouth and hold it between my teeth, I would have a good chance of wearing down my shackles. There was two ways I could do this…snooking up would be easier but ran the risk of choking so I stuck out my tongue and delivered a hefty snort. Unfortunately my nose was blocked and I had to endure a few disgusting but reassuringly well aimed bogies. With my passages now clear I let forth an almighty, yet controlled grunt and felt the minuscule piece of metal bounce off my tongue, rebound off the wall, hit me squarely in the eye, then drop to the floor with a soul destroying clink. Half blinded I looked down and to my utter amazement I saw that the entire mechanism holding me up was controlled by a single switch on the floor. Maybe a powerful bum-blast might just release me if I could get the right piece of fruit on target. Two pineapple chunks and a gooseberry later I managed to fire a particularly stubborn plum at the control and was free. Naked and confused I stumbled down the adjoining corridor….