‘Its easy Bozza. Yes, it’s old, but it’s automatic. Easy as riding a bike!’
Ken gave one of his trademark grins as Boris clonked it into ‘drive’ and hit the accelerator. The 1970’s burnt-orange Mini jerked forward and sped up the road, clipping a wheelie-bin with its door mirror as it sped passed and began to climb the steep slope of the lamp lit cobbled street.
‘Why do we have to call you Bozza?’
‘Because, if I’m recognised when I’m out engaging in espionage with you chaps, my career will be over. And I could certainly kiss goodbye to ever being Prime Minister again.’
‘Ha! That’s priceless. For one; that would never happen, and for two; apart from the cap, you look exactly the same as you always do. So, if someone that looks a dead ringer for Boris Johnson in a suit is caught driving a little orange clown car round the cobbled streets of Devon with Ken Livingstone riding shot-gun dressed as Florence Nightingale, it ain’t gonna matter two monkeys what you say your name is, your picture will be in every Twitter feed ever fed, and in every paper ever printed.’
‘Well that’s just your perspective,’ replied Boris. ‘Anyway, we’re getting close now, so let’s get alert and keep to a whisper.’
‘This is probably just about the craziest thing I’ve ever done,’ whispered Ken.
‘I don’t know, some of the policies you dreamt up as Mayor were pretty wacky,’ snickered Boris.
Ken looked less than impressed. ‘Let’s stop all this tit-for-tat. Maggie said, just get in, grab it and get out.’
‘That’s easy for her to say. She’s not the one that’s got to do it. And it might not even be in there.’
‘Well that’s a chance we’ll have to take. Do you really want to be the one to tell her we failed?’
‘No.’
‘So, let’s just get on with the job.’

----------------------

The little Mini fitted nicely between the wall and the line of industrial bins.
‘I really hate hospitals,’ grumbled Ken as he yanked the wheelchair out of the boot and clumsily folded it out with his foot. ‘Right, get in! ………I love how you’ve swung this so I’m the one who wears the dress and have to break my back pushing you!’
‘There’s no time for that now. Help me wrap my head in theses bandages and slap on some fake blood.’

(continued)

@ruffedgebooks