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Into the Forbidden Zone

Heading to the hills, after so much time floundering around in the rank, dank morassness of quaggy, sumpy, bogs, full of squiggly things, while putting up with Juan’s lunacies and being chased by large, dangerous animals, it is very nice to be dry and safe and here. 


I wonder why Mahalath needs rescuing; in comparison to most of our top agents, she is extremely competent and, unlike Juan, Kulu, Morag or Jock Black, when we are travelling in secret, behind enemy lines, she doesn’t normally cause trouble just to liven things up.  Jock Black and Juan’s idea of remaining incognito in enemy territory is to visit the first drinking establishment they can find, drink the place dry, start a brawl, blow up their bagpipes and march out, playing Highland reels, brandishing dirks at the men and grabbing women at random. Juan insists that grabbing women at random is as good a way of meeting a beautiful woman as any as, sooner or later, you will grab a beautiful one, and that, he says, is the one to keep. 


Thankfully, now, I don’t have to put up with this sort nonsense, however, as I am roscidly behind schedule, I quickly  refresh myself with Vintage Lagavulin and Blair Athol, helped down with some Allt a Bhainne, topped up with single-grain Tormore and washed down with Juan’s Special Reserve, then, remembering that I have to rescue Mahalath,  holding my arms out by my sides, for balance, swaying from side to side and singing Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes, and The Birks of Aberfeldy at the top of my voice, I weave to the rescue, as fast as I possibly can.


Professor Humperdink’s Diary