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In safe hands

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Hands sweat free? Check...

Much of what I have learnt about human nature has been acquired in cafés and restaurants.

One particularly fine example of this occurred recently, during my holiday in the Yorkshire Dales. Whilst enjoying a lovely meal, I discovered that the UK’s leading expert on evading interrogation was not some James Bond-esque figure, but actually a middle-aged woman from the North East at the next table.

Perhaps having enjoyed one Martini (shaken, not stirred) too many, she was busy informing her friends – and everyone else in the restaurant – about how she would cope with any attempts to extract information from her, or get her to admit to something.

Apparently, “It’s easy to beat one of them lie detector test things they have in America. It’s all about sweaty palms and that… what do you call it? …pupil delilations. I could beat that easy.” Remarkably, our super-cool expert went on to explain that she doesn’t have sweaty palms, so she would be fine.

In these turbulent times, with Russian nerve agent attacks, the tangled web of confusion that is Brexit, and Mrs Brown’s Boys still being shown on TV, it’s good to know that trained operatives, working tirelessly on our behalf, are unflappable and confident in their abilities. And like chips.

We can sleep soundly, in the knowledge that the UK is safe in their (absolutely not moist) hands.

Filo parcel of roast vegetables, by the way. Delicious. 5/5. Would eavesdrop there again.

This post first appeared as the second piece in my column/page in The Mail and the News & Star, on the 13th of April 2018. It was re-titled as "No secret to restaurant diner's spy tall stories". Phew.

 Honestly, this really did happen. The talkative lady clearly believed what she was saying - that she could easily outwit people trying to interrogate her. I suspect she'd struggle to outwit a tired goldfish, but hey - it takes all sorts to make the world entertaining.

(CD A-Z: Still on hold. Still need to unpack more boxes...) 
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