Thursday, October 20, 2005

The Italian Job.

I recall some years ago I was walking through Victoria station having just moved into SW1. This was the days pre the eurostar, and trains ran from Victoria to Europe. A man caught my eye, held it for a moment and then signalled up to the departure board which bore the destinations upon the mainland, like the axiom goes 'a nod is as good as a wink to a blind man'. Later that week I watched children in Albania scavenging for food upon a refuse site and felt empathy. I decided that as it was approaching the winter solstice/yuletide/xmas I would take a trip around the continent, a grand tour if you will, just without a GTI (This was about the time the idea for operation 'Platinum Eagle' was hatched). I departed from London using a prearranged route, and found myself in Rotterdam, and extended a thumb. From there I moved on to Germany, Hamburg then Berlin. From Berlin through Austria and the Dolomites where I spent a cold night, then on to Italy and Rome. They say that the Romans built straight Roads, well they certainly didn't start in Rome, one could say that the place is a labyrinth. I entered the Vatican, took up a small stone and drew a pentagram on one of the cobbles. Job done, or at least I thought. I walked out of Rome, noticing that the street signs bore the SIS on the back along with 'Comune di Roma', go figure. At that might have been the end of it, until I was detained by a couple of Italian police officers, I still have to figure out why they were so annoyed. Myself, I was in Europe having a 'nose' wearing issued green so as to follow the Geneva convention. Thing is the Italians can look closer to home for any trouble that occured while I was there, like in their own files. I, I was just having a nose, as is said 'nose to the left and eyes to the right: goat and sheep'. Most people think the 'Italian Job' is a Michael Caine film, me I'm not sure what it was, but I'm sure anything that occured was sanctioned by those who know. I do recall a relayed message on a Clansman radio when I was 15 during an exercise, the message went 'This is no longer an exercise, this is a fight for survival.' guess I'll whistle 'this is the self preservation society' and remember some of the people I met along the way on that Brief European Foray...aha, that'd be BEF or should that be BUF ;)

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