Mood:  irritated

F*cking 'ell, got a call on the Tel Aviv hotline, Mossad needed someone in Georgia pronto, they are a bit concerned about there top secret stick on beard shop being taken out. So I ring up the Mossad travel agent in Tottenham, and he gets me on the first flight to Georgia. All I can say is C*NT! I thought something looked a bit odd when I landed, all those planes with Delta written on the side. It was only when I got out of the airport I realised that the dozy Twonk had sent me to Georgia alright, but the f*cking one in the USA...now I know Atlanta is a bit rough, but it's not that rough...well as far as I know they don't have any ruskie tanks driving around the streets.

Anyway managed to evade all the CIA geezers knocking around the place and got myself on the same plane back to Fairoaks. I suppose the good thing is that I clocked up a few airmiles, and got some duty free in...I'll be a popular bloke round by the bins for the next few days I can tell you although I think they're only in it to ponce fags off me, and I had enough of that when I was working for the Underground railway somewhere in London.

OK, short and sweet today, I've got to ring Ali the travel agent and call him a c*nt...no f*cking idea of world geography these blokes, but he's cheap so I guess that's why Mossad use him.

Shalom