But, despite their inebriation, they heard him out; they were impressed with the Gatwick Job, the oh so simple way his telephone calls had prompted others, until the number of claimed sightings of Drones had triggered panic among the authorities and closed the airport; obviously, it would have been better if there had actually been some Drones but – and there's always a BUT – they hadn't been needed, it was only the possibility that had been required, and the claimed sightings had become a whirlwind and that was enough! the eight-man Army Council – the three MPs plus a solicitor from Truro, a dustman from Wembley, a butcher, a baker, and a candle-stick maker from Yorkshire (the first two from Croydon and Middlesbrough respectively) held a quick discussion while Dennis went to the toilet – something he hadn't done for years, use a public loo, that is, and he suddenly realised the date and that this was his quingentenary, five years since going into a Gents! he loathed the places, knowing that they were frequently frequented by Queers, Homos, Nancy Boys, all of which he loathed with the loathing only a Closet Queen knows, but at least this one, was more like a domestic toilet, with just a lavatory pan and wash-hand basin, no stalls which always seemed to be employed by men with a bladder obstruction for they could stand and whistle and smile at newcomers as if they had all the time in the world, and he detested them all – and, on his return, congratulated him on his Mission, which was when Natalie Rhombus (AKA The Quartermaster – The New English Patriots don't give a fig for Political Correctness) asked him, in her canorous voice, what he needed for the Big Job: "Five Gold Rings," (code for foot soldiers, spread around the country and taking their orders only from him), "Four Calling Birds," (untraceable disposable phones), "Three French Hens," (foreign couriers who were entirely ignorant of their missions and ready to obey his orders without question), "Two Turtle Doves," (incendiary devices which he would deploy to give credence to the Plot), "and a Partridge in a Pear Tree," (being a Hostage, if the Mission required one, and Natalie had the perfect victim in mind), and, really, that was it – Rodger Dennis's Plan was approved and the NEP War Council went downstairs where their table was booked; despite his intense antipathy to anything but Good English Grub and if the choice had been his, the Pie and Mash Shop, Lou Farrow's in The Blue, Bermondsey, would have been top of the list, Dennis cleaned his plate in short order and belched appreciatively! "that hit the spot," his only comment! meanwhile, Sir Pompus as an entrée en matière told the old story of his esteemed grandfather, Sir Philosophus MacFarlane, who had served in the Second Boer War and being challenged to a coup count, by gaining admittance to the Presidential Palace and purloining the top hat of President Kruger without being caught, which, by his use of a Wormhole, he managed very successfully, and he stopped speaking, suddenly, very soberly, realising what he had said, but only Doubleday had noticed, the others having heard most of the story in slightly different forms over a number of years and so paid little attention – a narrow squeak! and on the conversation flowed, each speaker attempting to trump the others with tales of their own, or their ancestors' deeds of similar valour, but Dennis wasn't listening, his mind focussed on the work ahead: he didn't have much time, and would meet with Natalie tomorrow morning to collect on his Shopping List.