Espionage and Mozzarella Don’t Mix

January 26, 2011 at 8:45 pm (Detective story, Humour, Mystery/horror, Politics, Vampire novel)

British Prime Minister David Cameron was having a meeting with Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg.

“So anything else to be discussed?” Cameron asked Clegg.

“Well, apparently it turns out we’re one delegate short for that parliamentary delegation that is paying a courtesy trip to meet with Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi today,” Clegg answered, “it was supposed to be a nine member delegation of MPs from Westminster and it turns out we only have eight.”

“Hm,” Cameron said, “who could we ask to go at the last minute?”.

“Well that far-left Labour MP from Wales Magog Rhys Petley being the self-proclaimed champion of the working man that he is probably wouldn’t mind getting a free trip somewhere at taxpayers’ expense like all self-proclaimed champions of the working man are prone to do,” Clegg noted.

“I like that,” Cameron smiled, “and the thought of an old-time Bolshevik like Rhys Petley meeting a monopolistic style capitalist like Berlusconi would be great fun.”

Cameron directed one of his aides to make the call to Rhys Petley.

* * *

Two members of the Italian Secret Service are sitting in a car outside the entrance of Set Enterprises’ Laboratory outside London.

“So Giuseppe,” Antonio asked, “would you like another glass of white wine?”.

“Seeing as how I’ve still got some linguini left,” Giuseppe replied, “sure it will go down well.”

“I’ve still got some spaghetti left,” Antonio looked inside his lunch box, “maybe I’ll open some red wine to go with it.”

As Antonio and Giuseppe ate and drank, Giuseppe looked at his watch.

“Say, what was it we were supposed to steal from inside Set Enterprises again?” Giuseppe asked.

Antonio reached inside his pocket, “I wrote it down inside my notebook… ah, here it is. Oh my goodness, I spilled mozzarella sauce all over it. I can’t read what it says.”

“Do you have a napkin to wipe it off?” Giuseppe inquired.

“No, we’ve used up all our napkins, Mama mia,” Antonio hit his forehead, “I can’t read what it says.”

“Didn’t the big Berlusconi himself order this mission?” Giuseppe poured himself some more white wine.

“That’s a-right,” Antonio answered, “the Prime Minister himself ordered this intelligence operation.”

“I’m a-glad I ordered my own pizza for this operation,” Giuseppe helped himself to a slice, “the last pizza on our last intelligence operation had way too many anchovies on it but then I didn’t order that one.”

“I think we’re a-going to have to jump over the fence and sneak over to the Set Enterprises cafeteria and see if we can get some napkins so I can a-wipe off-a this piece of paper and see what it says,” Antonio suggested.

“Why do we have to jump-a over the fence to get to the cafeteria for napkins?” Giuseppe asked, “why can’t we just-a walk in through the entrance like regular joes?”.

“Giuseppe, you’re not a regular joe, you’re Italian,” Antonio rebuked him, “besides we’re spies. And spies don’t just-a walk into places like that. Spies jump over the fence. We’ve got to be sneaky remember.”

“Okay but I hope-a I don’t split my pants like the last time I jumped over a fence,” Giuseppe made the sign of the Cross.

Antonio and Giuseppe got out of the car and approached the Fence.

“There’s a sign on the fence,” Giuseppe pointed out, “It says BEWARE OF… Dog… does it say?.”

“No, the English word Dog has only one syllable to it,” Antonio scratched his head, “it says BEWARE OF… GIRAFFE?”.

“You’re right, Antonio,” Giuseppe laughed, “it does say Beware Of Giraffe. What sort of place has a giraffe rather than a watch dog for security? These crazy English and their dry sense of humour. Dry like the African savanna with its giraffes you see on safari.”

Giuseppe and Antonio leapt over the fence.

They were soon set upon by a giraffe with huge carnivorous sharp like Tyrannosaurus Rex style teeth.

* * *

Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security for Set Enterprises held his binoculars and looked out the window of the Set Laboratories watch tower.

He remarked casually to Amadeus Emanon, “I was right to tell the Boss’ chief scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher to genetically engineer a giraffe with a slight pinch of prehistoric T-Rex DNA. People who break into the grounds get a huge surprise even though we’ve posted a sign warning them to beware of the giraffe.”

* * *

Antonio and Giuseppe hurriedly jumped back over the fence to the outside parking lot.

“Mama Mia,” Giuseppe cried out, “I’ve split my pants again.”

To be continued.

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