A Counter Spy

A lifetime first, I actually spoke to a Whitehall mandarin, but not called Clementine.  A biped talking about  (brace)  Corporation Tax.  Gift aid was even mentioned.  I then lost consciousness (not that I realised) and came round with CMC wafting a copy of Wisden, rapidly over my visage.  It all explains why CMC said I was her first slip.  And why I bowled a maiden over.  Enough of this pap.  Ventured into  café land for a meeting with our proposed project manager for a two year trim-up of the Hoy Kirk.  Davie played a blinder, and his agent arrived sporting a selection of submarine net.  The rear admiral wasn’t spotted, by any lepidopterists.  All be good at the weekend.