The lift stopped and they walked to N’s office. Miss Funnypenny walked into her outer office, Arthur walked into N’s.
N was sitting at his desk poring over some documents.
“Disgusting,” said Arthur, “pawing over documents.”
“POR,” I spelled as N looked up.
“What did you say Ha Ha 7?”
“The metal coat rack in Miss Funnypenny’s office?”
“Is it? Well we can’t afford a new one, cuts you know. Maybe if you didn’t blow your special equipment up all the time we might be able to afford a new one.”
“Going off about my accidents again? If you gave me quality stuff then maybe it would not explode as much.”
“Aston Martin Elise – write off, private jet – blown up, holiday villa – destroyed, need I go on?”
“Go on what?”
“With the list of your destruction.”
“No N, n n n n n n n n n no,” rapped Arthur in the style of Paul Hardcastle.
“Anyway, I haven’t called you here to remember your wrongs but to give you a mission. All of our best agents are on tasks of national emergency, so it has fallen to you to do the current mission.”
“A mission collecting currants?”
“Not currant mission, current meaning the one that needs doing now.”