Don't Tell Anyone But I'm A Secret International Playboy Spy

Yes I do use the same pictures and yes my gun can shoot round corners.

The name is Knudsen....................... Soren Knudsen, its not like the films usually I get a "and?" afterwards. I became a member of her majesties secret service during the late 50's.

A little known part of the job description was to service her majesty in secret. I didn't mind this as the Queen is so fucking hot, she still is today, just thinking about her gives me a diamond cutter.

I'm a jack of all trades, spy, manhoor, special farces and window cleaner. Whatever my cuntry needed I was there. To get a double 'O' licence to kill rating you need to be able to rub yer belly and pat yer head at the same time, oh and kill two people, anyone will do.

Its a little more complicated these days, in the 80's you had to kill the people and be able to program a VCR then it went even more high tech and you had to build a bookcase from IKEA and the cunts always had one part missing, killing the people was the easy part.

I got my licence early on in the game so I was ok, my secret number was double 'o' elevenityseven. Killing people was easy, especially if they were foreigners like Slavs or Greeks. The problem I had was seducing the weemen and pumping them for information.

Everyone knows if you wear a tux and claim to be a spy weemen get damp in 0-20 seconds. They just wanted to brag about having shagged Knudsen........ Soren Knudsen but I kept falling in love being a sweet and sensitive soul, especially if they give me a rimjob and lick my barse then for me its love.
Being in love with a woman always meant that they would get killed and I'd have yet another chip on my shoulder. I also never team up with a cute dog, or a chubby partner who is likeable and has a family as they always end up dying.

One time a gurl I loved with a talented tongue was killed by being covered in gold, I was heart broken especially as there was no such thing as E-bay back then. Do you know how hard it is to sell a hot dead woman covered in gold? not too hard actually.

I always had gadgets that would save me during that particular mission but I hated them. You try to find the cigarette lighter on yer 1964 Aston Martin and end up ejecting yer shopping and firing missiles into a school, bloody annoying when yer gagging for a smoke.

Those watches with the magnets and garrotes never tell the right time but its good for when you have to cut the cheese so to speak or if you drop a load of drawing pins (thumb tacks to you dumb yanks)

Being a spy isn't all glamorous, shagging hot weemen, killing bad guys and making humourous quips to yer Greek chorus, oh no theres a lot of smoking and drinking involved and yer life is in constant danger as yer wife may find out what yer up to.

I can trust you lot so here are some of the code-named operations I've been on, if you do read these and get killed well don't blame me, classified is for the weak.

Operation:

Dr Occasionally, Brownfinger in which I killed Baron Dirty Sanchez, From Killamory with clap, Bitterball, You only cum twice well I was on a schedule, Herpes are forever, The Man with the limp brown cock, The spy who gave me VD, Lotsofpussy, Muckraker, For yer brown eye only(catholic you see), Goldenshower, Lay another ghey, Chicken Royale and Quantum of a Solace. Excuse the last one for sounding a bit rude.

I just want you all to know that while I have a licence to kill which I just recently got re-newed doon at the town hall the world is safe, except on weekends and bank holidays.

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On her Majesties secret-ish service

My favourite Bond George Lazenby with his tiny gun showing how confident about his penis size he is.

Stirred not shaken, milk one sugar, that's how I take my tea incase any of you weemen fancy yer chances and it had better not be weak, it should have properly 'drawn a man' as is said in the world of tea making.
After years of serving my cuntry in the army I grew bored with storming beaches and fighting the dreaded Hun so I put in an application form for Naval Intelligence as those guys did fuck all running with packs on.
I had to do an aptitude test which was very tricky, 'the cow goes m-- ?' I mean what are they looking for here? mad? if I was a cow getting wanked off by cold hands everyday at 4am to get my milk and then chopped up and sold to McDonalds I'd be mad.
I don't think I did too well at it because the instructor nearly pissed himself laughing but due to the war the high turn over for MI5 agents I got in.
There was this bloke named Ian phlegming , his grandfather was Scottish but the way he spoke you couldn't tell, a right toff a bit like Footeater over there on my links but without that sexy dangerous edge Mr Eater is famous for.
I was put into a unit called 30AU or 30 Assault Unit though phlegming nicknamed us "Red Indians" . We picked locks cracked safes and took candy from babies, we practiced various forms of unarmed combat such as Judo, Cluedo and Origami. I had many a wrestle in the parlor with a lead pipe and a paper swan. I am also skilled in the Israeli martial art Kav Maga , it went on to becoming Krav Maga when Kav got married he changed, he no longer wanted to go out drinking and womanizing giving us the lame excuse that he loved his wife or something equally strange.

We were all fitted for tuxedos and wrist watches that had magnets in them incase you dropped a load of pins or something and a length of piano wire that would cum out so you could garrote someone or cut the cheese, I'll tell ya this for free I'm always cutting the cheese but if there are ladies present I will say "excuse me" I'm not a fucking animal though after saying "excuse me" I will also say something like "good arse I thought you were dead " just because farts are always funny but not wet the ones of course.
If ya wanted to tell the time by that watch you were shit out of luck, for every handy spy tool we had we also had to have a real one too. I had an exploding fountain pen , poison laced cigarettes a lighter that turned into a hovercraft and spectacles that were not only a disguise but made me look smart. I was also fitted with emergency food rations in the form of edible underwear and had a bullet proof cod piece to protect the family jewels.
I was a little disappointed with the 7 shot Walther PPK handgun we were given but the fact that they let us drive fancy sports cars with ejector seats and machine guns that pop in and out of the body work and let us drink and gamble with our flash money made up for it.
We had procedure for doing everything back then, when I gave my name I had to say Knudsen, Old Knudsen and after everytime we had a bit of action we had to say something smart arse like "he had a lot of guts" or if they blew up "rest in pieces" our monthly report had to contain at least 17 quips or we wouldn't get 'quip pay' you'd get a bonus if you raised yer eyebrow while you said them. We were given a special operations code because of our deadliness. I was 008 that was just their way of getting around all the lawsuits that the 007 agents caused. I was licensed to thrash within an inch of their life (then if they died we couldn't get sued as it wasn't our fault) I was licensed to drive heavy machinery and I was licensed to use my overt sexual charm as a weapon, you may have noticed.
No I'm not a fucking waiter I'm a secret agent so go get yer own drink.

I often wondered why we walked about looking like waiters making sure everyone knew who we are. I suspect we were decoys for some other operations.
I've shagged hundreds of weemen for my cuntry, usually you worry about what STD she might give you or if you get her pregnant will she ever find you again but us spies have to worry about genitals coated with arsenic so you never go doon on a woman and if a woman doesn't want to go doon on you she must be an enemy spy, or a leezer, you see civvies don't have to think about this stuff.