feverishly behind schedule; make a quick stop to catch up with my old friends, the Battersea Morris Men. It is a always a wonder to me that England, who produces such excellent soldiers, also excels in traditional dances wherein fully grown men jump around waving handkerchiefs, with bells tied to their ankles. After the dance, I share out a barrel of Juan’s Special Reserve and we exchange gossip. Most of the dancers are on leave from the trenches but, they tell me with great pride, they haven’t been ignoring the war effort entirely as they have been training combat cows in such techniques as how to crawl under electrified wire. When the training is complete, they will be sent to assist the Munatafiq donkey division (Secret Intelligence unit no. 9). England
I am surprised that we are thinking of using bovine soldiers but, it turns out, because they are cows, there are no real expectations of the herd successfully working behind enemy lines but, rather, the plan is that they are to be used as a decoy and, while the herd attracts attention, which it will, the donkey division will tunnel their way under the front line and emerge, unnoticed, to carry out reconnaissance work in Berlin. This is a wonderful plan and I wish everyone the best of luck, especially the cows, then, explaining that I have to go, as I am meant to be meeting Juan and Mahalath, I leave the Morris Men a barrel of Vintage Duff’s Defiance, which will keep them leaping for days, and rush back to the West End, as fast as I possibly can.
Professor Humperdink’s Diary