Mood:
chillin'Now Playing: Clive Dunn's Grandad
So after all the excitement of the weekend, it's back to reality with a crash, and I'm pushing my old trolley through the corridors of one the leading hospitals of the NHS just going through the motions. I really think I'd better have a word with my Mossad controller about this assignment. I'm not gathering any useful intelligence, I can't remember the last time I sent a report back to Tel Aviv, they got sort of fed up with hearing that the waiting time in Casualty was now six hours, but that's all I can really muster. In my position unless I engage in some clandestine activity I don't have access to the really juicy areas, and I've been forbidden to do that by the powers that be back in the homeland. How can a highly skilled operative like me operate like that. When I was trained we were told that's what we had to do. It's political correctness gone mad, although they reckon it's got something to do with an event that happened at some hotel in the USA called Watergate that I happened to be staying at. Pure coincidence I tell you, I couldn't find any batteries for my torch, plus I was still waiting for my lock picking kit to arrive, so how could it have been me? Never have anything you order from the Exchange & Mart shipped to the US, it takes ages.
Some of you have asked if Mossad had anything to do with that Russian geezer who they reckoned was poisoned with radiation or whatever. As per usual I can't comment on stuff like that, but all I will say is that we prefer to do things a little cheaper than that, that stuff costs money. If you ask me he just had a bad piece of Sushi, happened to me once and I spent all night on the bog. Blimey was my arse sore after that.
Shalom
