Former bike patrol crewmate Jenks and I were doing close security at a transfer or art treasures (Suit, tie, black overcoats, black leather gloves, wiggly earpieces, mirror shades- you know the drill). Many priceless painting were being moved from a gallery in London, each packed in their individual beaten aluminium security cases (James Bond Q Division stylee).
The next thing I know, Jenks has swifted two of the cases away and stashed them in the boot of our getaway car. Cue a chase through the streets of London with me driving like Jason 'Transporter' Statham and giving the Met the slip before grabbing a case each and legging it through gardens and parks and tube stations with various helicopters and dogs and armed units in hot pursuit.
We manage to avoid The Filth and take to our warehouse bolt hole for a beer and a kip.
I wake up the next morning to find Jenks and one painting gone but I seem to be expecting this. I grab my painting and exit the warehouse to find that I have walked out of the front door of a Gite in France and onto the platform of a railway station
I wander around for a bit, looking at my mobile phone, wanting to call Jenks as arranged but knowing that, cos it is a job phone, as soon as I make the call I'm done for. Meanwhile the phone is beeping and burping and making really odd noises. I decide to dump the phone and walk to the nearest village to steal a car. I walk for about 20 minutes and find myself on the Britwell Estate in Slough.
My mobile phone has magically appeared in my pocket again and starts to go off at which point I realise the alarm is telling me it is time to get up.....