I am tucked up in my bed, but not wearing pyjamas, oh no. I have on a black roll neck sweater, and tight fitting black trousers. On my feet are shoes I have had specially made, with galvanised rubber soles so that I can move silently on any surface. I pull on my black balaclava and set about stage two of the plan.
The room is in darkness, and the air is filled with sounds of snoring, belching and farting which have characterised the Big Blogger experience so far. In one corner, Vicus Scurra lies on his back, every inhalation whistling like a kettle, every exhalation roaring like a warthog passing a kidney stone. Gordon farts regularly and with force. At least I think that’s what he’s doing, it’s the only way I can explain why the centre of his duvet keeps moving up and down rapidly like that. I creep across the room.
I nearly jump out of my skin as Jonny cries out, and think that I have been discovered. But it’s okay, he’s just talking in his sleep again. "The Moles!" he cries, "The Moles! They’re everywhere. Too many of them. They just keep coming and coming. Save yourself, Short Tony! Leave me, I’m done for! There’s nothing you can do for me now, run, just run and don’t look back!"
I reach the door, crack it open, make to step through then jump back. Damn, I’m not alone. Mike is still awake. He’s over in the kitchen area, wearing nothing but his hat and a baggy pair of Y-fronts. He has his iPod on and is throwing shapes and admiring his disco moves in one of the mirrors. I can clearly hear "Ride on Time" by Black Box emerging from the earphones. Remembering back to my days in the Boy Scouts crack undercover black-ops platoon, I duck and roll behind the dining table and then, waiting my moment, make a break for the patio door just as Mike executes a complicated spin and slide movement and escape unseen.
In the darkness of the garden I move fast, quickly making my way to where I have carefully observed there to be a camera black spot, I take my utility bag from my shoulder and extract my long handled ice axe. The fools believed me when I said it was to ward off unwanted attention from the ladies, all still part of my cunning ruse. I swing it up onto the wall, tug down to ensure I have a good grip, then pull myself up in one swift movement.
I drop down the other side and hit the ground running, scattering behind me Swedish meat balls laced with crushed up sleeping tablets to distract the attack dogs and ensure they will be docile on my return later on. Reaching the fence I make my way along until I find the breach in the wire which has been cut for me exactly according to the arrangements. I pull the wires apart and slip through.
Then I take off at a jog across the tilled field, carefully avoiding the search tower spotlights which sweep the area under the beady eye of the armed guards. I head straight for the small thicket I can see at the other side, and as I go I pull out a small maglight and flash it twice, the pre-arranged signal. I see the answering flash and know that everything has been prepared. As I approach the thicket, I hear the engine start up and headlights cut the dark night air.
As the Jaguar XJ-12 emerges I grasp the back door handle and throw myself into the back seat and into her warm soft waiting arms. Our lips meet in a deep soulful kiss filled with passion and longing. "I’ve missed you so much" she whispers. "I’ve missed you too, Christine" I reply. "But we must be careful, sooner or later Neil is going to suspect something."
"Where to, Mrs Hamilton?" the chauffeur asks, as the car drives off into the night…….