White Painted Guns Episode II

We continue our alt version of 'James Bond...'

*

The newly installed Foreign Secretary, Boris Johnson, looks out from his shrapnel-proofed, Lord Conran-designed triple-pane glass window with its highly-varnished dark Scottish heartwood Ash frame.

The Permanent Head of the Department, a red-headed fifty-year old woman from the ordinary Public School system closed the manila file in her hands and tapped a mauve lacquered fingernail on its cover to signal a decisive moment in the discussion.

So what d'you really think you know...?
I mean about Boris Johnson...

"Eve," the new Foreign Secretary said, looking away from the vista and back directly into the green eyes of the P.H. "What do the Americans say? 'Reach out,' is it? Well have someone you trust completely, reach out to that eccentric American billionaire John McAfee, and ask him if he will consider secretly paying for some equipage and establishment, for a small team of independent reporters and investigative journalists to give us the plain unvarnished truth about some of the matters in that file of yours. And ask John Watson from across the aisle if he will be prepared to get a bit dirty with us on this as well. Top Secret, of course. Everything. Everything is to be Top Secret. The whole matter. No one is to know under any circumstances."

That evening, Boris Johnson attends his club and orders what he rarely ever ordered, this time though, in celebration of his achieving a childhood dream, that of combining high Parliamentary Office, with the splendid role of the fictional 'M,' who was of course, in reality and originally, 'C.' And then later on 'R' with Dame Stella, who completely messed up the point of a having a secret service, with fraternization with the mercantile, venal, shallow, and ultimately deeply treacherous mediocre classes. Nothing at all wrong with the lower classes, Charles the farmer knew that; for without them, British estates would all grind to a halt, and be overrun with gorse and sedge - as if King Arthur had left the Land and was dead - which he was not.

Needless to say, McAfee leapt to the offer. 'Sir' John McAfee... Now that, would be some serious cool. After all.

...After his Port, and his club's renewal version of the famous Boodle's Orange Fool, Johnson sat back with his favourite cigar in hand, and contemplated the potential elegance of the future yet to come.

The London Sartoria restaurant's Orange Fool

And turned over in his mind, the short list of possibles from the Black Watch, and the Coldstream Guard, and various public and private gymnasiums, parkour training facilities, and trampoline academies too - the latter where Daniel Craig's stunt coordinator came from of course. And one of these, as a matter of irony and trivia, was owned by the descendant of the great adventurer writer and Oriental fairy-tale compiler, Sir Richard Francis Burton KCMG FRGS. Oh, and not to mention, spy. For Richard Burton was a spy of course. As well as a very serious Arabic scholar. 

Ah, the Arabic... We would have to consult too, he thought, with the modern linguist and Arabic scholar, the strangely named, but in all other respects, highly gun-barrel straight, Christian Prince. (His link:) https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChsXHzayDrPorHF4bg_qIXQ

Jayne Bond's new automobile, the McLaren 570
...And that's Jayne's legs right there