Ahead of a launch for one of the Davie McCall books – I think Devil’s Knock – I posted a throw-away line on Facebook telling anyone who attended to have some questions ready.
I followed it up with the hope that no-one asks me about the affair of exotic dancer with the leather shorts, braces, the ear horn, the pan scourer and the Bavarian yodelling instruction tape.
Some people wondered what it was all about. A few maybe. Perhaps one. Okay, none – but I’m going to tell you anyway because I’m eating lunch and feel the need to write something.
Some of the tale remains covered by the Official Secrets Act because it goes back to when I was an operative for MFI. We did the top secret work for the cabinet. Sometimes the sideboard.
My mission was to make contact with Adrienne Von Knickerstrudel, an exotic dancer at the Jiggle A-Go Go Club.
She had some vital information on the plans by the half Irish, half Chinese master criminal Paddy Field for world domination.
Adrienne was on the stage, working her act. She was a big girl – 56 inch chest. She didn’t so much dance as crawl around the floor trying to get up.
Midway through her routine I caught her eye. I threw it back to her but I didn’t know if I was in luck.
I soon got my answer. A waiter appeared at me elbow and handed me a note which said: “Come to my dressing room after the show, darling. I’ll show you a good time..”
I was stunned. I’d never heard a piece of paper speak before.
A good time, I thought. What could she mean? I began to feel excitement throb through my body at the prospect. I couldn’t dare wish she had a tiddley-winks set back there. I hadn’t tiddled my wink for a long time.
She opened the door in a pair of leather shorts and braces. Funny place to have a door, I thought.
She dragged me in and within seconds had wrapped her arms around me three times. She had enormously long arms.
“Kiss me, liebchen,” she breathed.
I had no idea where her liebchen was but I was game to find it.
I puckered up, fully planning to use every lip on my face. We kissed. We kissed hard. She was good. She was very good. I hadn’t felt anything like that since I’d accidentally spent the night with an industrial strength vacuum cleaner. But that’s another story.
One thing led to another and she soon had me stripped down to my vest and Union Jack boxers. Nowadays that is the universal symbol for ‘No, thanks’ but back then it meant, ‘Oh hell, yeah.’
She handed me a box of pan scourers because she liked it rough.
I can’t tell you what use she put the earn horn to but suffice to say I’ll never wear speedos again.
Afterwards, as she slept the sleep of the just after, I rummaged around in her nick-nacks. The information we needed was kept in the cassette bearing the Bavarian yodelling instructions. It took me a while – her nick-nacks were voluminous – but just as I was about the leave, Field himself burst in waving a pricing gun.
‘One false move,’ he cried, ‘and I’ll mark you down.’
I produced a pelmet and a length of material. ‘If you try anything, it’s curtains for you.’
We endured the stand-off for a two minutes before Adrienne woke up, her chest heaving. It caught Field off-balance and threw him to the side.
I seized the moment and made my escape using a pair of her foundation garments as a balloon. I inflated them with a gas cannister disguised as a Rubik Cube. On the way home I played with a Rubik Cube disguised as a gas cannister.
Field had planned to soften everyone’s brain and make them malleable to his will but we’d foiled him. This time.
He never gave up on the notion, though.
Later, he became one of the producers of Big Brother and worked on ‘Made in Chelsea.’