Tommy's Cold War Diaries
Chubby Broccoli Productions Inc.
The declassified adventures of agent 007 and a half gills. A New York Tims Exclusive. We promise. Really we do. Cross our hearts and hope to die (he has a license to kill after all).
and a half gills
Episode 2. From Wishaw With Love
October 16th, 1962. The Cuban Missile Crisis continues. The Soviet Navy quickly recovered from the disruption I caused when I defeated Yomamma Bin Liner in The Dr Naw incident (see episode 1). It has resumed steaming towards Cuba fueled by a consignment of 178 proof vodka parachuted in from Murmansk in a discarded Stoli umbrella.
The Frauline and I were rescued by a CIA submarine and were headed to the Cayman Islands for a day off and a turtle sandwich, a couple of Buckfast martinis and an Ena Sharples fan convention. No such luck. We received a message on the advanced CIA communication system based on a tin can floating on the surface tied by string behind the submarine. Mi6. M&M's Office. The Frauline and I were needed back in the UK on an urgent mission. Next stop, Wishaw by Vulcan bomber.
This cheered me up since I anticipated shouting ”bombs away" over a sporting establishment in the west end of Glasgow. No time for that. The Frauline and I were to parachute under cover of darkness onto Wishaw Golf Course. Operation "From Wishaw with Love" was under way.
The CIA had received a worrying communication from M&M via the Oxford Club short wave radio. Once M&M's brandy induced stupor had been deciphered, John F Kennedy was informed. The President was helped to disconnect from the 100 Pennsylvania multi-vac system by his security detail and the stripper from the Bronx wielding a feather duster.
The crisis was truly global . The Soviet advance on Cuba was being aided by a spy ring active in the west of Scotland which was passing information direct to the KGB about the secret military installation at Ravenscraig in Motherwell. Ravenscraig was a good location for this, since the surrounding environment is a perfect facsimile of conditions post nuclear war. This is evidenced by the three tailed dogs in Craignuke (in the bingo hall) and the patrons of the West End Bar and 202 Club in Wishaw.
The President received his briefing. The Soviets were planning a guerilla attack on Ravenscraig. Gorillas were being recruited from the nearby ghetto of Larkhall. Destruction of the secret military installation would have devastating consequences. Ravenscraig at the time was the world's largest manufacturer of pig headed metal, widely used in nuclear warheads, ring pulls, kirby grips and the little twirly things that are used to seal plastic bags and are widely regarded to be the most annoying and useless invention in human history.
It was also a widely held belief that Ravenscraig was connected to The Bermuda Triangle via an underground magnetic field. There is ample evidence of this connection due to the rapid disappearance of any object within a 2 mile radius of Wishaw left unattended in a public place for more that 5 minutes.
The CIA and MI6 were worried about a possible connection with the Cuban Missile Crisis. Control again passed to Bobby Kennedy's mid life crisis response team. Unable to find Wishaw on a map, Bobby confirmed that agent Bond, Bail Bond , Commander Sir Thomas Kelly Donnelly, code name 007 and a half gills was on the case. Upon receiving this confirmation from MI6, The midlife crisis response team returned to contingency planning necessary in the event of global nuclear war.
But first things first. Priorities had to be attended to, and a solid plan to get JFK out of trouble with Jackie was urgently needed.. Unfortunately, Jackie had discovered a love letter in the President's hand writing to the 100 Pennsylvania Avenue multi-vac system. Forgetting the stripper from the Bronx for the moment, Jackie wired the White House mains generator directly up to the multi-vac and lay patiently in wait.
Her plan was foiled when an unfortunate mouse was chased by the First Cat into an open tube, setting off a chain reaction of short circuits and dimming the lights in Washington DC.
The First Cat was electrocuted, was awarded a State Funeral and was laid to rest in Arlington Cemetery with a 12 gun salute and a case of Kitty Kat to see her into the afterlife.
Back over Scotland, the Frauline and I reviewed our plans as the Vulcan bomber rumbled over the treetops towards Wishaw. First we took a detour to the Treetops Hotel in Paisley via Renton airport. There we lunched on Scottish delicacies including haggis pakora, deep fired mars bars and greasy pies with beans. The sausage rolls were off, so we made do with a couple of clabby doos and a jar of whelks. Fortified by several Buckfast Martinis, nuts crushed not broken, shoogled not stirred, we reboarded the aircraft for our short flight to the drop zone in Wishaw.
Our plan was sound. The Frauline realized that Miss Spendapenny was monitoring the logistics for the mission. Just to annoy Spendapenny, The Frauline adopted a new call sign. For the duration of operation From Wishaw With Love, The Frauline's code name would be Tatiana Takemoff.
That hardened my resolve again and we loosened up with a spot of mile high fun in the cramped cockpit of the Vulcan bomber. Tatiana Takemoff was quite taken by the vibration caused by The Vulcan Bomber's massive throbbing engine. I hadn't the heart to tell her the engine had been turned off for the last half hour as we glided towards the drop zone. Nonetheless I promised I would get Q Tip to install one of the engines in her spare bedroom for her own personal entertainment after the crisis was over. I would most definitely be asking Tatiana to Takemoff many times during this mission.
Zero Hour had come. We slipped into our disguises. Blackened faces, Rangers track suits, white gloves and black bowler hats. The bomb doors opened and out we slipped.
Sabotage!! As I pulled my rip cord I realized that my parachute had been tampered with. I watched a six pack of McEwans's lager cans fly out in to the darkness. A sure sign that the local Soviet spy ring had advance warning of our approach.
I plummeted towards my death. Gave it a good go, I thought. Then I remembered Q Tip's box of tricks. Tatiana beat me to it. I felt a hook grab my harness and I was hoisted upwards. Then I was face to face with Tatiana Takemoff gently floating under her chute. Tatiana moved to attach me to her clip for safety. Unfortunately she missed the clip and pinned me to her track suit zipper which gradually began to wind down. The next few instants are a blur.
I did not account for the two natural security devices Tatiana has permanently attached which she occasionally deploys as flotation devices. I was lodged between them and I quite enjoyed the rest of the drop to the golf course.
We reached the ground and quickly ran off into the bushes to hide the chute. We decided to rest there for a bit, not quietly though and we rustled the undergrowth with some Takemoff practice. This was enough to scare off a couple of badgers and a weasel who was trying to open one of the cans of McEwan's.
After a short time we tidied up our disguises after removing several golf balls and tee markers from various parts of our anatomies. Destination, The West End Bar, Rangers Supporters central in Wishaw, a sure meeting point for any local spy ring..
Meanwhile, back in the White House, things were back to normal. The midlife crisis response team continued to discuss a military strike on Cuba. Jackie took the opportunity to head out for a manicure and a good read of Greek Shipping Tycoon Weekly. JFK took it upon himself to pick up the big red phone and call the Kremlin on the off chance that Kruschev might know of any Russian ballerinas in Washington who might fancy a quick pirrhouette and a pas de deux in The White House.
He caught Kruschev at a bad moment. Nikita had just read the latest Soviet 5 year production plan progress report and he was not happy. The vodka quota was 5 million barrels short, though much of that was due to Winston Churchill's unplanned visit a few days ago. Left boots outnumbered right boots by 2 to one. That could be remedied by chopping a foot off every second soldier in the Red Army. That might not go over too well if a decision had to be made to storm Western Europe after the crisis.
To top it all, it seems that the CIA managed to get at Sputnik and reprogram it to broadcast an endless loop involving the theme tune from 77 Sunset strip and the complete speeches of Roy Rogers; devious imperialist capitalist propaganda.
The situation was made worse by a burst pipe in Krusuchev's Dacha outside Moscow. Try getting a plumber out there during a Russian winter [in years to come a certain football stadium would use the same architect to build a space age stadium based on similar design standards. Ed].
Kennedy gave up on that call and went back to his Sophia Loren scrapbook.
Back in Wishaw we were ready; Tatiana and I quietly approached the West End Bar. Checking our disguises, we entered. We were in the right place. Rangers paraphernalia hung from every wall. Pictures of a fat guy with a funny haircut and a dress sitting on a White Horse, strange music describing various battles from the 1600s blaring from an antiquated juke box. We approached the bar. Doing our best to blend in, we ordered two pints of McEwan's. That was when the fun began.
Tatiana Takemoff took one sip of her "beer" and immediately dropped her glass in apparent disgust, right down the pants of the nearest person sitting at the bar. The offended patron stood up and smashed an ash tray over the head of the guy to the right. Joining in I thrust a karate chop into the face of the barman (I think it was a man, may have been one of the gorillas from Larkhall) .
The plan was working. All out bar brawl. One elegant patron screamed "Moan the Billies" before being whacked by a chair full frontal on the forehead. The barman strategically retreated below the counter top and lobbed jars of pickled onions into the melee.
Casualties mounted and no sign of Lanarkshire's finest (Strathclyde did not exist in 1962 and being a nuclear free zone would not have participated in the Cuban Missile Crisis anyway). Tatiana Takemoff and I stood back to see what would happen next.
Things took a turn for the worst. A backroom door opened. With shock I recognized the two uniformed Soviet officers who emerged. First, the Evil Rosa Cludge. Order of Lennon three stars, decorated for setting fire to kittens at the Battle of PussinBoots, Head of the undercover Scottish chapter of the KGB terror group Smersh, operating in Wishaw under the local chapter name, "Smashed". Scottish Mobilized And Severely Hammered Extreme Drunks. A crack KGB outfit when you can get them off the vodka, or whiskey, or schnapps or anything else they can lay their hands on. Rosa was evil incarnate.
Beside Rosa stood the muscular Rodney Grant Freddie Balustera Mercury. Closely resembling Robert Shaw in tight pants, this was one evil dude. Rodney Grant Freddy Balustera was able to debag a grown man from 20 paces and give him a dose of the Freddies at close quarters. A thing to be avoided even in 1962.
I drew Tatiana close and awaited our fate, especially when I saw the crowd of Larkhall gorillas emerging from The West End back room. I took out my trusty Baretta, but Tatiana stuck it back in my pants, promising she would demonstrate some new techniques with it later. Good enough for me.
Rosa spoke. "I know you Mr. Bond, Bail Bond, Commander Thomas Kelly Donnelly, Agent 007 and a half gills. You will not foil my plans, Ravenscraig comes down and our plan for world domination will be complete. And then you will learn Russian and get used to wearing left footed shoes only".
I said nothing. Tatiana on the other hand appeared quite taken with Rodney Grant Freddie Balustera Mercury. To my shock she declared.."Comrade Freddy, I am exercising my right as a double agent to have you take me from here and demonstrate my code word "Takemoff". Rosa released Tatiana to Rodney's custody and off they retreated hand in hand towards the back room via Freddie's preferred back door. "So this is it Tatiana", I said in disbelief. "Yes Sir Thomas", she replied as she closed the door behind her. I saw a hint of a tear. I was shocked and dismayed. Betrayed!
"Well Mr. Bond, We meet again", said Rosa, Oh well, I’m going to have to do this the hard way. I looked Rosa Cludge in the eye. "I know your plans for Ravenscraig Rosa, you wont get a way with it. I know the secret of the Bermuda Triangle".
Rosa gasped as I reached for my trusty Baretta. I managed to get a couple of shots off. One Famous Grouse and a Teachers. Then I saw lights as one of the Larkhall gorillas took me out with a cricket bat adorned with a Rangers crest on. I saw Tatiana's face as I drifted off.
I woke up in the dark. The place smelled like hell. Rotten eggs, sulfer and a hint of curry sauce. As I came to I realized I was chained to a trolley. Rosa Cludge was there. I realized where I was! Blast. A Blast Furnace that is. Ravenscraig. "You know too much Mr. Bond", declared Rosa. "You won’t get away with this Rosa", I replied.
Rosa countered, "You are going to die Mr. Bond, but I admire you. You deserve to know that the KGB has harnessed the link between Ravenscraig and the Bermuda Triangle. We are going to blow up Ravenscraig and realign the Bermuda Triangle. Then we can make the Soviet fleet invisible, and get the missiles to Cuba. The United States will be cinders before JFK can open the latest issue of Hustler, scan the readers letters and pin the latest centerfold to the Presidential bathroom wall".
A nefarious plan. This had to be stopped. Then the trolley started to move. Towards the furnace. Rosa grinned, "Goodbye Mr. Bond, enjoy your fireside nap!". Then she left. They always do that. I wonder why they never think of a bullet to the brain. I struggled to reach the box of tricks Q Tip Gave me. No good. The chains are too tight. The trolley inched closer and closer to the fire.
I could feel the heat. I wished I had some marshmallows. The soles of my shoes began to melt. No more Celtic Park for me, I thought as I prepared for the inevitable. I closed my eyes. The room exploded around me. Just as my feet were about to enter the furnace I heard the crash of the furnace door closing. Then I heard a scream and the crunch of something in the wheels of the trolley.
A shapely shape of shapely proportions wearing a welder's mask looked down at me." Taking a nice rest Sir Thomas?". The mask came off. Tatiana! She quickly freed me from the trolley using the burning gear she had liberated from one of the Larkhall gorillas, who’s body she had used to jam the wheels of the trolley! She explained the ruse. She had to create a diversion to get to the bottom of the Ravenscraig/Bermuda triangle enigma. There was no betrayal, She was still Tatiana Takemoff and Takemoff we would. But not yet.
"We have to stop them", I said demonstrating my martial arts rank of Master of the Bleeding Obvious. Tatiana had determined that the explosive device was a number 240 bus from Shotts to Buchanan Street that the Larkhall gorillas had hijacked for the Soviets. The Bus was loaded with vindaloo sauce, plutonium and a bag of fertilizer stolen from Asda. This dangerous device was parked under the main cooling tower. If exploded at the stroke of midnight it would cause a chain reaction that would vaporize Ravenscraig and open a worm hole to the Bermuda Triangle. The Soviet fleet would enter this worm hole and be rendered invisible. End of Cuban Missile Crisis, end of Kennedy’s subscription to Hustler and end of Western Civilization as we know it.
It was 11:45 p.m. and the Pubs were shut. We had to move fast. I pulled my shortwave radio our of my shorts and made contact with M&M’s office. Spendapenny answered. "Where the hell are you Bond" said Spendapenny "and where is that trollop Takemoff. I’ll take something off her alright, the cow". "No time for pleasantries Spendapenny" I replied, "get me Q Tip".
Spendapenny managed to get Q Tip roused from his couch at the Oxford Club. I explained the situation. Q Tip quickly came up with a plan. If we managed to delay the detonation by at least 1 minute, then explode the bus, the force would be channeled and the worm hole would be diverted away from the Soviet fleet. The down side was that anyone in the vicinity would be sucked into the wormhole, emerging who knows where.
We would take that risk.
Tatiana and I made our way towards the cooling tower. First, a diversion. We used Q Tips' exploding Tic Tacs to blow up the main furnace. Then we came across Ravenscraig’s main oil supply. Tatiana wanted some blowing practice so I let her blow that up too. That did it. Hundreds of Larkhall gorillas running around in confusion.
I caught sight of Rosa Cludge, and managed to get off another couple of shots I had smuggled out of The West End Bar. Bacardi and Tanqueray, Nice. I told the Frauline to take care of Rosa while I attempt to reprogram the bomb. 5 minutes to Midnight.
I made it to the Bus with 4 minutes to spare. Except, as I jumped in the door, I felt a muscular grip on my throat. Rodney Grant Freddie Balustera Mercury. I knew anyone who looked like Robert Shaw and was previously introduced in the story had to have a part to play.
I began to black out. I managed to get my hand on Q Tips' box of tricks. I pulled out a nail file Q Tip had kindly placed there in case I need a manicure in the heat of battle and jammed it into his crotch. Then I managed to get his head through the steering wheel. Two quick turns and he was dead. I kneed him in the hee haws for good measure.
One minute to midnight. I noticed the bomb was wired to the bus’clock. I ripped the dash board open. I needed some thing to jam the clock. Of course. I still had the pen Spendapenny gave me at MI6’s office party. I jammed this into the clock. I awaited my fate.
On the stroke of midnight I caught sight of Tatiana wrestling with Rosa in the distance. I had to make sure the pen held for a minute. 10 seconds to go and I felt Tatiana’s arms around me. "You have to get out of here",I screamed. Then the scene disappeared in a flash of color.
We abruptly found ourselves in a deep plush carpet. Some strange squeaking sounds were coming from a bed above us. I crawled out. We were in JFK's bedroom and he was having at it with the stripper from the Bronx. We managed to sneak out and gave ourselves up to the Secret Service. Being the most well known secret agent in the world I didn’t have too much explaining to do and I gave the guards my autograph.
Later that night we were entertained to dinner by the President. Our actions had saved the day. Apparently the Soviet fleet was still on course for Cuba, but had been denied the stealth advantage due to our intervention. Tatiana reverted to her civilian identity of Frauline Von Tim Trappen but she will still Takemoff at every opportunity.
Nikita Kruschev was advised of the mission and has issued a death warrant on agent 007 and a half gills. Normally I would have been worried about that but watching the way Jackie Kennedy was looking at JFK over dinner I figured he had bigger problems.
I accepted my Medal of Honor, the keys to Washington DC and a free pass to Disneyland including all you can eat cream buns in Goofy's back yard. They know how to treat a hero here. We concluded dinner and retreated to the Oval Office guest room, where The Frauline and I planned some serious action.
I lay back and awaited the Frauline who was adjusting the items she was going to slowly take off. I noticed a movement in the closet. I grabbed my Baretta. All of a sudden a knife flew past my ear and the closet door burst open. Rosa Cludge!
"I will get you for this Mr. Bond", she screamed as she threw herself upon me. I twisted on the bed and managed to pin her to the floor. Then she released the black tarantuala. not being fond of spiders I smacked it with a shoe and planted a fist straight into Rosa's face. Hardened by years in the Gulag, Rosa shrugged and pulled out a Kalashnikov from her underwear. I was done.
"I followed you into the wormhole Bond, we will still defeat your capitalist ways". I waited for the shot. It didn't come. Instead, Rosa suddenly froze as a bottle of finest Vodka from Warrington was poured over her head. Time to light up said The Frauline and ignited Rosa Cludge. She went down in flames a bit like Jacques Le Pilot, but that is another story.
We had room service clean up the mess and retired for the night. We still had more work ahead of us to clear up the Cuban missile crisis, but first things first. "Takemoff now Frauline".
The adventure continues...
Wishaw during The Cold War
The sceret military installation at Ravenscraig
The evil Rosa Cludge
Gratuitous female form
Drop Zone at Wishaw Golf Course
Tatiana Takemoff in ready position
Rodney Grant Freddie Balustera Mercury
Buckfast Martini, nuts crushed not broken, shoogled not stirred.
Home of The Soviet Sleeper Terror Group "Smashed"
Fidel and Nikita pose for The Rangers News
John F. Kennedy and The Stripper from The Bronx
Tatiana Takemoff and her new car
Theatre of Operations
The 100 Pennsylvania Avenue Multi-Vac system
Agent 007 and a half gills in civilian garb
One of the infamous Larkhall Gorillas
Tatiana and Agent 007 and a half gills prepare to storm The West End Bar
Agent 007 and a half gills creates mayhem at the secret military installation at Ravenscraig