As Commander Sinclair (codename Puffin) reached the rendezvous point before starting his long ascent up the stoney cold face of Mount Coldstone, he was met by his old friend, the Sherpa Mc.Dougall.
“Ahh, Commander Shinclair, you have travel far, you musht resht”, said the Sherpa in his native tongue.
“Jerry never rests and nor shall I, my good man”, replied Commander Sinclair in his perfect I’m better than you accent as he removed his camelskin scarf from his ruggedly chiselled face.
“Commander Shinclair, what has happened to your face” masturbated the Sherpa noticing Sinclairs’ unusually unkempt moustache.
“Damn Jerry”, spat Sinclair as he reminisced. “Two miles outside of Isbakistan, in the desert, parched and bereft of all weapons. Only possession, my trusty old back-up moustache comb I won on a bet from the boys at Eton that I would be the first one to get a glimpse of Sister Agathas’ ankle; but I got a lot more than that if you know what I mean old boy”, Sinclair chuckled.
“No, Commander”, replied the Sherpa.
“Anyhoo, came across a group of Jerry on their way to bomb an old peoples home, so had no choice, either let Grampa get it or take out the hun”
“Sho you killed them Commander” said the Sherpa
“Killed and ate, old chap, killed and ate”
“Ate them Commander Shinclair; but you were only two miles from a Little Chef” said the Sherpa
“I like my food fresh”, replied Sinclair.
“Now; where’s that lovely wife of yours”, called Sinclair clapping his hands through his kittenskin mittens. “She reminds me a lot of Sister Agatha, if you know what I mean”.
“No”, replied the Sherpa.
“She’s feeding our baby Commander” said the Sherpa pointing to his wigwam, the sound of a woman’s laughter came from inside.
“Well let’s have a look then”, called Sinclair as he walked over to the wigwam.
As Sinclair opened the mock Lois the sixteenth balsawood style door to the wigwam his razor sharp monocleless eagle eyes darted through the fading light towards a woman sat in the middle, breastfeeding her baby.
“Ahh Mrs Mc.Dougall, how nice to see you again” smarmed the Commander sounding such as only the man could whom knows the most intimate things about a dishevelled nun. “But why do you laugh”.
“It’s the baby”, replied the Sherpas’ wife.
“Why whatever’s the wrong my dear”, said Sinclair in his most sincerest of tones, as the Sherpa peered from behind.
“The baby; his moustache is tickling my nipples”, replied the woman.
It was at that moment Sinclair heard not for the first time in his life the click, click of a rifle cocking form behind him as the penny drops.
“Must be orf dear, jerrys’ waiting; chin chin” Sinclair hastily spoke as he made a dash for mount Coldstone.
Would he get there, would the Sherpa get him first.
All these questions and less answered in next years exciting instalment of; Codename Puffin, the puffin has landed.
The End
(this has been a Roddy Sinclair adventure)
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