Airport
Mood:  lazy
Now Playing: The Violin
Don't you just hate early morning phone calls? There I was tucked up in bed, holding on tight to my Action Man (you know the one with the Eagle Eyes and the 14 different phrases such as "Officer you can shove that Breath testing kit up your arse, I work for Mossad")who I'd specially dressed up in his own little black outfit when out of the blue I heard the phone ring. What pissed me off the most was that it wasn't the Tel Aviv hotline, but my normal BT one. Now normally I'd ignore it, I've had enough drunks call me up in the middle of the night telling me they think their next door neighbour is a Russian spy, but for some reason I decided to answer it.
Well you could have knocked me down with a stale Bagel, it was the Duty Trolley Manager and he wanted me to get down to the Hospital quick, and to bring the fastest VW in the west. Something was going on down at Heathrow. Well I leapt out of bed, obviously it was all hands to the pumps down at the Hospital and I'd no doubt that a special Operating Theatre had been put aside for me to work in. I was in the VW as quick as a flash and revved it up as I left the driveway. I was racing through the dark deserted streets of Tooting at speeds which at times must have approached 35 MPH. The DTM was waiting for me at the door with a few boxes which obviously contained some sort of high tech gear. He told me to stay in the car while he loaded them, mumbling something about some terrorist thing at Heathrow and special security measures. I sat in the VW feeling smug as at last my talents were being recognised. When there's a crisis in town only the best will do. Telling me to put Pedal to the Metal I sped off for the Airport. Well I wish I could say it was a smooth ride but do you know how badly Heathrow is signposted from Hammersmith? I must have driven round there about 4 times and even thought about taking the Underground but that wasn't an option as it was closed. The VW does have a GPS system but I don't know how it works, never had to bother with it, I'm normally driven to and from my secret ops. Anyway I got there eventually, a harried looking cop picked up the boxes and told me to f***off back to London. A fine way to treat a fellow security officer I must say. What was in those boxes? Turns out that all I was moving was boxes of plastic bags. Still, played my part in a national security crisis and for that I'm quite proud, even better the DTM gave me the rest of the day off.

Shalom