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.
