Folks,

Dux....
Ha! See the big grin?

Interviews, beermaids? Come now. Where is your spirit of adventure? Where is your sense or patriotism, where is your stash of vodka?

When it comes down to it, I know that you would rather go with us than face the wrath of Olga when she fails to be the chosen one. Yes, I took the liberty of inviting her to the hopeful beermaid competition. And mightily flattered she was too when she heard that not only is it your omnipotent self who is to be the judge of this exciting event, but that you were the very person who suggested that she be invited. What do you think of that?

I can just hear you whistling that old Ron Moody tune from "Oliver". How does that go? "I am re-viewing..tha situ-a-tion...da da da....

Hurry. We already have our 103 steamer trunks loaded on an RAF lorry bound for Southampton. Most of them are filled with kayopectate... just in case we are unable to avoid being indisposed by either the Black Drought or the more discomforting, Roaring Caliph's Revenge. No matter how drunken or peckish we may be along the way we will, of course, take great care to avoid Crappatio's delicacies in any diabolically attractive form they may take. I thank you for that helpful warning.

Your arrangements for our travel are superb as usual if somewhat circuitous in nature. One admonition, and it is a minor one that was just brought to my attention by that picky world traveler C51. Do you by any chance recall the acronym POSH? Think on it man, does POSH ring a bell?

Here's the thing, when going by ship, one prefers to travel POSH, as it were, whenever possible. Dear boy, I know that you grew up in Derbyshire however it is always Port Out and Starboard Home . Certainly not the awful tongue twister "FHOSERH" or Froward Hold Out, Stern Engine Room Home. Kindly retain that minor bit of trivia in that amazingly retentive mind of yours for all future reference.

We will stop in at Whitehall's secret communications headquarters, Honest Abdul's Used Camel Lot, to send you a candy gram from Cairo letting you know we arrived safely. Then we'll send another at our earliest inconvenience when we reach our final (oh, I do hope it is not that) make that las... ahh.., eventual destination somewhere in ruggedly beautiful Lower Konfoundistan.

Just a tick. Considering our only mission is to ferry 3 fighters to that village in Konfoundistan, and considering the new and varied mode of transport that is for ourselves and our baggage only, one must at least make the effort to ask, Old Boy, just how the devil will the Spitfires be getting there too?