CIA Training For Everyday Use

When yer a spy you can't tell anyone about it. You can't tweet how yer off to use yer heart attack gun on a Russian diplomat cos the enemy also has Twitter.

Old Knudsen is humble and modest and doesn't like to brag, when he tells you about his huge crowd pleasing penis he's merely stating fact. When I werked for the company I was trained by the 2nd best of the best. I was trained how to spy, escape and evade. I've done things I'm no proud of ... like yer Ma ... Ka Chow!
  

Condition white. 

From the CIA, Marines Hunter Program and the Mi-5 how to lie course I lerned basic field craft that is applicable for everyday plebs if they would take their heads out of their holes for a minute.

I tried to teach you all in this post about surviving a terrorist attack

If you walk about staring at yer phone, book or newspaper, or if yer listening to yer music with yer earbuds in and daydreaming then you are in condition white. You are oblivious to what is around you. You are a perfect target for muggers, pick pockets or evil commie spies.

You need to be in condition yellow always. This is head up and knowing who is around. These people rarely get knocked down at a crosswalk. Confident looking people do not draw as much attention as lost clueless folk do.

Condition orange is when you see a potential danger and ready yerself. That could mean taking yer hands out of yer fucken pockets and hold onto something like yer keys or a pen, something you could jab into a hand or eye.
Also you can take actions and go somewhere to avoid a confrontation. The best way to win a fight is to avoid it, even highly trained experts like myself would rather avoid a fight as you have nothing to prove to this person by being macho and even the best training or the 2nd best won't prepare you for someone better, faster or even more lucky. Maybe they have a weapon you don't know about. 

Condition red is when you fight or flee. You are taking action. The best way to fight if you have to is wound yer opponent or hit them hard enough to make them think twice while you get away.

Or is it condition green? ach that's why I was "let go" from the bomb disposal team. Schools can be rebuilt and parents can have more children so get off me fucken back.

What should we do sir?  

Condition black is usually for military in combat. In Band of brothers Lieutenant Peacock was leading Easy company through a field. They were out in the open and the Germans were taking them apart. Peacock froze in panic and could not make any decisions, that is condition black.        

Good training is the best way to avoid condition black.

So I was in an unfamiliar town to meet some assets for humint .... that's spook speak for human intelligence. I had just spoken to Jimmy the weasel and he had told me about a foreign government plan to strike panic into the people by buying all the milk, bread and baked beans ... fucken devious.

I was on the street, getting a baseline for what was normal as then you can easily tell what isn't. A busy street, people going into shops and cars going by. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man standing there looking around him.

You may not think that odd but the only ones that look around them are idiot tourists, law enforcement and bad guys. There were no giant balls of string or old crappy buildings so he wasn't a tourist, he wasn't scanning the blacks or brown men of combat age so he wasn't a cop ... he was looking for a certain type ... shit he could be a spy hunter, I hope he was just a usual bad guy as spy hunters are deadly. 

In my peripheral I saw him lock his eyes onto me, my hand reached down but no, my zip was not down again. As I told the judge is was an honest mistake.

Criminals and bad guys stare at their prey, it's an indicator you should watch out for while in condition yellow. In the wild a predator never takes its eyes off what it's hunting.

He started to match mt step and it looked like he was aiming to cut me off.

One thing to do is to let them know you are onto them. If someone is following you then turn round and look them up and down.

I turned to him and asked, "do you know what the time is?" it werked, he was startled. I was ready with my rolled up Hustler magazine in my hand to strike at his throat .... oh I was buying it for a friend. 

"Time to accept Jesus into your heart" I looked around to make sure it wasn't a distraction and that he didn't have a buddy coming up on my 6. I may be paranoid but I'm also alive and old so it werks. It was near the holiday season so bad guys often target people with distractions.      

Content that it wasn't a ploy I turned my ring on my finger around and opened the top exposing a tiny needle. I took his leaflet giving his hand a small prick .... no, not that kind of prick ... I said it was huge remember. 

He'd be meeting his maker within the hour. I smiled for the rest of the day knowing that I had the intel to stop a foreign power carrying out a terrorist consumer attack and that I gave yon Christian bloke the chance to see if all his fairy tales were true or not. It was a good day.   

 You didn't expect a huge cock pic in this post.

Better than that day when I had my ring turned in and grabbed my dick and poisoned myself . Well it wasn't too bad cos the doctor had to suck the poison out. They tried to tell me the NHS wouldn't fund that kind of treatment but I found a young willing doc that needed the money.

Of Course I Can Speak Arabic

I still have CIA clearance if anyone wants to use it for the staff discount.

Old Knudsen pretends this blog is satire in order to slag off fuckers poke gentle fun at people and to leak classified secrets in the hopes that you sheeple will wake up and see that airplane fuel doesn't melt steel beams and that Trump is werking for the Hillary campaign. Oh and that the Jews run everything except Christmas and the EU which is run by the Illuminati obviously. 

A few years back Old Knudsen was in Callyfornia working in hangar 42 at Edward's air force base. Hangar 42 doesn't exist, that's a clever rouse because it was really Hangar 37 which is very top secret, tremendously top secret almost definitely a total secret. It doesn't even have a number painted onto it.

Aye the taxi drivers that took me to werk kept getting lost, well what could you expect they were mostly immigrants from some Middle eastern cuntry or something. You'd think they'd never seen airplanes the way they kept taking pictures of everything.

Anyways I was never there teaching Arabic to Navy SEAL's and other people that had an interest in learning to speak sand savage.
I really couldn't speak Arabic but I had put it on my resume and wasn't going to let those fuckers make me back down so I had to see it through. Who hasn't been there?

It's amazing how clueless westerners are with Arabic I was rattling off all sorts of shite and they were rushing to write it all down. Alect ha ba shake n vac .....  means I am not a western spy.

I went on a bender that lasted hours. 

It was there I got news of my father's passing and this time it wasn't the family boasting about him passing large Elvis like bowel movements. I got an e-mail from my evil older brother Lars.

Cause of death was aeronautic asphyxiation. He was test piloting a new jet fighter for the ministry of defense with a belt around while having a danger wank, he must have jerked off his joystick as he smashed into the ground in a ball of fire near Bromley.

That was the cause of death. My job was too important to leave for the funeral which was held in a pub since he had already been cremated in the wreck and his ashes blown out to sea by tropical storm Tommy. No fuss and barely any effort, he would have wanted that.

I just did an e-mail to me family and put CC on it so everyone would get it. I said 'Sorry for yer loss, move on. Best Wishes Soren.'   

Yeah I poured my heart out and since only two of my family can even use a computer it didn't reach a wide audience.

The replies I got was 'who are you?' and 'what? .... why are you e-mailing me you cunt? Best Wishes Lars.'

I accepted the e-mail of course though wondered why they'd let a 304 year-old that drove doon the middle of the road in his car into a 22 million pound jet and who the fuck gave him a belt? He wasn't allowed shoe laces and nearly hanged himself with his neck tie at one of my weddings. Clumsy, not suicidal. Me Ma had to get vertical window blinds cos he kept getting trapped in the venetian blinds.

I just got werd from an old asset that the whole test pilot thing was a massive and very clever cover up and now I suspect that SG-19 had Da Knudsen killed because he knew too much. Lars didn't even bother to e-mail me when Da died hence his confusion, I thought it was the crack.

It's true, Da Knudsen did know a lot, he could have won Jeopardy or Mastermind. Now Old Knudsen has to hunt down and kill those responsible .... ah fuck it, I'll just have a few jelly doughnuts.   

None of those I taught Arabic to seemed to have paid any attention as they are all dead now, what a bunch of losers.  


As the Ragheads say "Allo acklebar" which means loosely translated means 'fuck you paleface.'
   

Quantum Of A Spectre Fall Royale

 

 Those vamps posed a real threat with their chiseled features.

I just cleaned out a nest of vamps north of Charleston when I got the call. J texted me that my cuntry needed me in Monte Carlo to stop a top secret organisation that only the Illuminati knew about called Spectre.
I got into my 1953 Aston Martin silver stingray viper limited edition and sighed a weary sigh. I felt drained, literally. After the last vamp nest in which the stakes I bought off Amazon that turned out to be formica went terrible wrong I chose to use biological weapons this time.

I worked in a Kindergarten for a week and got the man-flu from those wee germ factories. When they start requiring background checks to buy guns and to work with children I'll be snookered, until then I shall exploit the apathy of the law.

I let the vamps feed off me and watched as the man-flu instantly ravaged their bodies, turning them to dust. Luckily Old Knudsen is tough because man-flu is far worse than baby pains, trust me on that.

I took off down the road at speed and needed to blast out some rock music to wake me up. I almost hit the ejaculation button, that could have been messy. I don't know what the boffins put into that goop but when it sprays out it incapacitates you in a sticky mess, they shouldn't put that button so close to the radio.

 "I used to rule the world, seas would rise when I gave the word"    

I love this song, turn that bad boy up!  

 

"I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing, Roman cavalry choirs are singing"

You know what Romans aren't famous for? ... cavalry choirs, what the fuck? Sounds a bit Welsh to me. Not that I have anything against the Welsh though they revolt and disgust me. I knew this Welsh pediatrician that told me about the sick things he'd do to kids, turned out that it was baby goats which is even worse. 

I sped off into the night, it was a long drive to Monte Carlo. 

He's the man-yan .... he'll bust throught your back door, call your mother a whore .... all in the name of the Quee-eeeennnn. 

Leave no one alive maybe scratch at his hives for his unseasonal allergies of justice and pain.

The self destructing mannnnnnn, he'll do what he cannnnnnnn, cos he's the mannnnnnn, this song is so lonnnnnggggggg, oh so lonnnnnggggggg.

He'll kill you with his donnnnnggggggg ..... everyone wants his donnnnnggggggg.

The man with the cap and a blog, he'll fuck your dogggggg.  Blah blah blah blah, when will the fucking movie start? Will there be anything newwww? Maybe sex with a stewwww, Irish stewwww.

 
While the rest of the UK is hit with austerity the 005 program's spending goes up, like the cost of keeping the royal family keeps going up. I slipped into my expensive tux and grabbed a few grand from my car's on board ATM.
Monte Carlo wasn't very busy, in fact all of Vegas was feeling the pinch. The Riviera had closed, things were tough. I wondered why J sent me here, the last I heard was about a deal going down in Monaco, ah well here I was, I shall trust that J knows his job.

Being a spy I'm trained to blend in and to be quite unremarkable that people barely even register me. "Ah Mister Knudsen!" proclaimed a chubby balding man, the manager I think, "It's great to see you again, I hope you'll be keeping your clothes on you tonight" he laughed nervously so I told him to fuck off ...  as I do.
I ordered a drink at the bar, "Crème de menthe, shaken not stirred, and make it dirty" after the bar tender shook and spat into my drink I surveyed the room, taking note of all exits and potential threats including a wet floor that didn't have a caution cone on it and a fire door that was propped open. 

A slender woman passed by, I called out to her that she had a nice rack .... she was carrying a chip rack. She was a teller about to begin her shift so I played a few hands of snap at her table then I pumped her for information.
The shelves of the janitor's supply room rattled as I pumped her for info, her cat (Mr Pickles) had just died  that week and she had broken up with her fiancee (Paul) who was cheating on her and she had slight discomfort while peeing .... not the info I was after. I shot my load making that double 'O' face that millions of men, weemen and domestic pets had seen ... ask yer Ma about it. 

"I love you Soren"   

Yeah I had just met her, I get this a lot. I said "look, this would never work out as I'm like a wine taster of the flesh, also I'm a secret agent werking for SG-19 which is an ultra secret branch of British Intelligence that no one knows about. Our werlds are too different and chances are that you'll probably die tonight, any chance of a cup of tae love?" 

She took it well .... took the bad news well too. Didn't get my cuppa though.

I walked back onto the gaming floor and then I saw him.

Phill Spector! I thought he was in prison for killing blondes. It seems they let him out for good behaviour as he hadn't killed anybody while incarerated, they also took into account his werk in the music industry and his invention of the wall of sound that took 3 years off World war 2.

What was he doing in Monte Carlo? ..... Maybe he was creating a wall of death!

I sat opposite Spector and played a few hands, he was getting annoyed by my skill at cards and when I shouted things like, "yay, I love those aces" and "what do you get when all yer cards are pictures?"  
     
He took his chips and went to the roulette wheel with his young blonde female companion. He said 13 black. Racist fucker, roulette is all about reds and blacks and who you put yer balls on, I prefer bingo. I saddled up beside them and nuzzled his lady friend's neck, "I'm a secret agent, meet me at the toilets for some quick rough sex"  ... she gasped and then said, "I think I love you, be careful" before heading off towards the bogs.

Spector was furious, he called over his henchmen to beat me up while he went and shot his blonde friend.

They were tough but I was kicked out of a fight club once for being too aggressive, and for talking about it. Leaving the thugs on the floor covered in blood as they tried to breathe through their broken faces I ran towards the restrooms. Too late, I heard a shot, followed by another and another.

I got there to see Specter standing over his blonde friend, I also saw the body of the teller I had shagged and one other lass I had been thinking about shagging later .... the life of a secret agent is a lonely one.

One fluid movement I disarmed Spector, I put him into a wrist lock and bent him over to kick him 3 times in the chest and once in the face because I didn't like him.

I pulled out my service revolver, a Webley Mk VI from 1916 which had saved my life more times than wearing a seat belt while driving had ever done ... which is why I don't use them.
I pointed my gun at him with a burning hate in my eyes cos the dead lass I was going to shag later looked the grateful type. He looked up and said, "you can't do it, you don't have the guts" he mocked me with a sneer.

"It's not that I don't have the guts old fellow, I don't have the bullets"  .... maybe I should get a newer gun with easy to get bullets. The police came and took him away. I had to break my cover and tell them I was a top level secret agent and that Specter was the head of an evil crime organisation with high up links in various werld governments and was also guilty of some very bad wigs was but they seemed like good chaps and probably won't tell anyone.

 She calls it the magic touch as mere contact with me has her climaxing like a Walking Dead finale. 

My phone notification went off, it was Hillary asking if I'd kill off a supreme court judge for her and make it look like natural causes, she was always finding werk for me to do just so she could talk to me, I bet this wasn't even on a secure server, when that woman thinks with her woo woo all sense goes out the window. 

006 had it a bit rough with a secret organisation in Monaco, it seems that they are everywhere these days. 


    

When I Fought Saddam

 

Years back when the Bloominberg diamond that was lent out to the British museum in London .... England was stolen, MI-5 put their best man on the case. SG-19 also put their third from best on the case too which was me cos the other two were on holiday at the time so technically I was the best, and don't you forget it.

I found myself in a typical London alleyway, it was the early 80's and every alleyway had it's own smoke machine .... yes everyone, even the alleyways smoked back then and it never gave us cancer but if it had we would have laughed in its face and would have been grateful.

I squared off against a street thug that I was going to squeeze for information. He looked cocky and defiant as if he had powerful rich friends. I could tell this would get real violent real soon.

In my highly trained mind I chose a plan of attack, I'd feign submission and let my shoulders slump, strike at his throat, he'll attempt a wild haymaker, I'd deploy an elbow block then body shot, block his left jab, cut with a cross to right cheek followed by an elbow to his face breaking his eye socket then end with a front kick to the sternum .... all planned out in a split second through years of training and sparring.  

I woke up in hospital, my only mistake was when I started to day dream while planning my attack which gave him an advantage.
I'd only been in my coma for 3 days, that was nothing compared to the 8 weeks in 1978 when I told Leon Spinks that he got lucky when he beat Muhammad Ali ... I got my revenge when I found out his home address. Should I own up to it? .... Ok, in 1980 I knocked on his front door and ran away, he was all like wha? He didn't have a clue who it was, revenge is so sweet. Fuck you and yer London look teeth ... was what I would have said to his face.

A large bouquet of flowers with a note that said, "hope you get well soon, stop asking questions and you'll stay that way" I examined the handwriting, licked and sniffed the card, wasn't European it was more nutty but not Russian A-HA! obviously Middle Eastern.

I pumped my contact from Mossad from some information. She verified that Al-Koblah was at the museum shortly before the theft, he was Saddam's number one jewel thief.

Donald Rumsfeld the Special Envoy to the Middle East under Reagan. 

If would be difficult getting into Iraq for a mission against Saddam, he was very tight with the US and Reagan had it out for me cos he was jealous of the history I had with Nancy. It was all very messy, no seriously, Nancy was a right squirter.

Since the US was selling weapons to Iran and Iraq while all the time trying to mediate peace I slipped inside a container marked bio hazard which was heading to Iraq, I just assumed it was like Baby Bio plant food so I'd be grand.... strangely enough it must have been like plant food as I did grow a foot within 8 weeks of that mission but I had it removed as it was growing in an odd place and I couldn't cut the toenails very well.  

I faced off against Saddam at his secret castle and demanded he returned the Bloominberg diamond ... ya still remember about that right? he said "Ack bach halli ouc da ne hadisha bo lokach he na suclueh ole Knudsen" so I repeated my demand SLOWLY AND LOUDER so he could understand, I do speak fuckin English ya cheeky cunt.

He laughed and pulled out a big shiny sword. Old Knudsen has been laughed at by better folk than him but there was something about that sword, then it struck me, ouch! It was Excalibur, I knew it back when Aurthur had it and called it Calibur.
How was I to defeat him? I could shag his wife like Lancelot did, he had 2 so which one should I pick ? That daydream cost me an arm (it grew back a year later) his mocking laughter and hacks at my body was starting to bend my shite then I noticed that he had the diamond put into the hilt of the sword ... Aurthur was always humming and hawing what to put into the hilt as he hated emeralds and sapphires, it had to be kingly looking  ... no wonder he never noticed Lancelot and Guinevere round the back of the tents.

Saddam thought that with a limb missing and several pints of blood gushing out of me that I was done for and he got careless. I used my remaining good hand and ripped his mustache clean off his face. If I had a camera phone back then I'd have taken a selfie with it.

Saddam screamed like a little gurl and dropped the sword, I picked it up and stood over him and bellowed "Cry Gog for Harry, England, and Saint George!" and raised the mystical blade, suddenly in a fiery explosion Saddam flew into the sky just missing my blade of justice ... A fucken jet pack, what is this, the 21st century?

I returned the Bloominberg diamond to the Bloominbergs who needed it for their zionist new werld order and for tax purposes, I gave Excalibur to the ancient and wise Merlin, he'd know what to do with it.

Well he actually got totally pissed on apple scrumpy during one of those solstice thingys and threw it into a lake, we haven't spoken to each other since.              
   
What was the point to this story? Well now you know why Saddam wore a fake mustache for all those years, yep that was all me. His old mustache became feral and lived up in the Sinjar Mountains before the Kurds were able to track it down and kill it in 2005.

Upon returning to SG-19 I wrote up my report and was promoted to Head field agent of the suicide mission task force. I'd asked if I was getting any medals cos I likes getting medals but they were all out and due to the recession they couldn't afford any more, always the way.