I-Spy and Espionage

Just when you thought your cover was intact and nobody would recognise you as secret agent WG1007, up comes your so-called bredrin, RS07, out in the open! This had to have been a public confession inspired by a long and hard look in the mirror and chronic over-consumption of sugar.

Who would have thought former media colleague, Raffique Shah, would have at this stage in life blown his cover, and in the process, the rest of ours? My jaw still hangs low after reading the newspaper column last Sunday in which he blows an otherwise sturdy lid off a virtual latrine of intrigue and mystery.

Formerly known as MarathonMan001, he must surely be going off his rockers. He must have been demoted to ShortSprint000 before being assigned RS07 – “R” for “retired” and that last “0” (down from 007) lingering like ganja smoke in a 1970s blocko. Who would have thought there were once two “0”s and a guy with dark hair who could shoot straight-straight and talk smooth?

But there I was thinking I had got away with being “a CIA” and “bringing in the Yankee dollars” – despite being exposed by whispering gossipmongers the other day. Even a threat of freshly pressed court clothes did not hush idle mouths.

If I had to be in the Wikileaks cables, it would have had to do with oyster cocktails and lambi souse - not intelligence, even though I does read plenty books.

I mean, I won’t have made the grade. I probably don’t pray too good, and I had to borrow money for my own house and not jumped any HDC queue. So fat chance I would have ever been promoted to triple “0” status.

I have been on my own. No Iluminati or Lodge, or Big Pharma or 5G. Not even a spiritual advisor … or two. And to be clear, I have been to Guanapo … on hikes only … and without candles and live chickens and/or goats and long sharp knives.

Plenty church thing in this season of palm leaves and abeer and iftar though. Plenty “advising” and praying. Agents busy, busy. Crimes to be investigated. Phones to be tapped. Lovers to be stalked.

Reminds me of the time we staked out this horning couple. They liked paddle boat rides down in south. The guy was a writer and the other man’s wife was a spoilt brat rich girl whose conniving husband stole a love letter from her purse and tried extorting money from the loving couple.

Then he tried to have his wife killed, and we broke the case because of a key. A simple key! That was spy work of the highest order. Oh, wait! Sorry. That was Hansley Ajodha’s latest film, Infidelity. I get mixed up between fact and fiction sometimes.

It’s like that time I could have sworn state resources were being used to build a church in the bush. Real prayers were said. ProjectManager000001 was skillfully at work. Or was this, too, the stuff of twisted imagination, someone having had too much mauby before sleep?

Before that, the bush church in the late 1970s had a big barrel for Kool-Aid … on Guyanese government property. I hear they want that one back too, only this time with COVID vaccines for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to keep Big Pharma happy and to drive masked black and brown populations down to manageable levels.

All of this, of course, to deny evidence that the earth is in fact flat, and that the southern coast of Trinidad reaches the very edge. Yeah right, they “landed on the moon”, and everybody knows 9-11 was an inside job with the eventual aim of controlling the world.

When I was a child, I always wanted to be a spy, to investigate and to expose these kinds of lies. I kinda ended up in journalism because of that. But what is it with these people? Don’t they want to know the truth? Raf has blown our cover! Is there some kind of secret sign to indicate that somebody else needs to drop out of the mission too? I can hold my ring finger down with my thumb while twitching the other three.