The Admiralty's momentous memo on the cunning creation of a distinctly devilish mob of morse-tappers at this decideldy dark juncture in Bretonia's fortunes is most welcome and has caused my thighs to experience a warm sensation unknown since the first flush of adolescence crept up on my loins whispering "Hullo".
In fact the idea for a Special Operations Executive had popped into my cranky cranium many times in the past, especially during my confounded confinement in that Kusari hell-hole. We have some brave bucks engaged in cloak and dagger stuff behind the slanted enemy lines already - you may recall that chap LeCarre who faciliatated my own velocitous exteriorisation from the clutches of the pernicious prisons of our foe.
Perhaps these daring chaps might disguise themselves in a manner suggesting innocent civilianhood as they espy on the enemy or prepare acts of sabotage.
Needless to say, Her Majesty's Secret Service has a great deal of potential. Ingeniously infiltrating our enemy's rotten ranks and investigating the illicit actions of the many nefarious ne'er do wells in organised crime might be added to their overlong list of dangerous duties.
