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.'
   

I'm Not Just A Sexy Beast, I'm A Person Too

Life can be full of surprises like finding yerself tied to a chair in what looked like an old Soviet bunker, maybe in Ukraine.
It was a typical New Years eve party which ended in violence, vomit and sexual conquest .... probably. I had no recollection after my 18th drink which means that it must have been drugged. Me Scottish blood gives me the ability to avoid buying rounds and to remember who bought me a drink.

Then I remembered the Russian lass who was ever so interested in my war stories, she had promised to be discreet so I didn't mind sharing classified information, those agents under cover had probably gone on to other assignments anyways and everyone knows the truth about Ebola and the CIA/ISIS dirty bomb plot.

Olaf no Olga, that was it. She laughed at all my jokes and expressed intense sexual attraction for me so just the usual then, no need to be suspicious.  

She came into the room followed by two goons and an older fella with sharp medical tools. I tried telling them that I was very particular about which doctor I saw and had already sold my kidneys years ago but they didn't listen.

Olga said, "You will tell us all you know about Operation Scorpio Dawn or you will die ... slowly."  Old Knudsen can take a hint but I could tell she was obviously very into me, even when she hit me in the face with a brick knocking out two teeth I could tell she wanted me.

I laughed and said, "do yer worse, I've not made anything up about Scorpio Dawn yet so tough cheddar."   

They conversed conversated in Russian and didn't realise that Old Knudsen is fluent in that tongue, 'lick those unicorn nipples he paint was transport plane' .... damn them, they must have been using code. I asked them to speak slower but they wouldn't.

The old fella then wheeled in a TV and proceeded to play all the Star Wars movies starting at Episode one, the force awakens had coughing and some bloke walking across the screen but by then I had no will to live so who gives a fuck?

They left me alone thinking I was done for, next would be the nipple clamps and pliers to my balls and as fun as that sounded I had places to be.
I slipped off me trainers for they had forgotten that old men's toe nails are as sharp as razors. The light glinted off my nail as it poked out of the hole of my black socks. I used my double jointed knees (replacement knees from that landmine incident in Nam) and sliced the ropes to set me free.

I plucked a few wiry pubes and picked the lock of the door. The goons standing outside didn't know what hit them, it was a tornado of toe nails and cut throats. I was heading for the door at the end of the corridor when the old fella came through it and said, "not so fast agent Knudsen" he had me there for 10 minutes as he ticked off a questionnaire on how my abducting and torture was. Hey I know what it's like, my boss used to have a shit fit if my prisoner died before filling out a questionnaire, it's professional courtesy.

He was happy enough until I plunged his own pen into his eye then I got out the door and was free.

Stoopid Russians, it takes more than that to break Old Knudsen though it was close. You have to get up early to get one over on the Storm Bringer .... no earlier then noon though or I shall be cranky.

  
Olga was there waiting for me, if there is one thing Old Knudsen is good at is learning from past mistakes. Once he sees you for what you really are then you have no power over him.

Olga slurped her wee Gulp-ski and said, "Hey Old Knudsen, you wanna put this all behind us and go for a few drinks and maybe some really intense sex, you must know I'm crazy about you, all women are, we can't help it."   

I knew I was right, ladies loving the warty sausage that is ribbed for her pleasure is a curse but they do ... but could I trust Olga?

"And of course I'm buying." 


Fuck trust, it's for the weak. 

We'll Always Have Paris

The high pitched nee neh nee neh of the French police siren was designed to annoy rather than to alert other drivers, most of French culture is designed to annoy.
The siren with that specific tone and the adrenaline you already feel makes you make mistakes, like the panic you feel when yer 'It's raining men' ring tone goes off really loudly in the cinema and you scramble for yer phone in the dark while everyone tuts.   

Old Knudsen shifted gears and without thinking, his muscle memory doing that much practiced dance, two police cars on his tail as he weaved through the busy streets of Paris.

Police attention is an inconvenience when yer on a top secret mission, a blown spy is a useless one, getting paraded in the media with yer fake wig shoved on yer head as the guards laugh at you is one way to end up working in the I.T. department or posted to some far fling butt fuck embassy.

The police were gaining, for the first time in years Old Knudsen felt as if he had the chance of failing. Swerving at top speed he narrowly missed a truck, thank fuck it had good brakes. Think, think, what to do.

Old Knudsen's mind wandered to the previous night snorting coke of a midget hooker's arse, no think of something else, what would yer training officer say? It had been too many years to count and Old Knudsen being ex-military had already been trained to not think for himself so training had been difficult, any acronyms ELITE  Evade ... keeping running, what I'm doing now, Lie .... just bullshit yer way out, I've never been good at that, Intimidate .... scare them into not wanting to come after me, Takedown ..... put them down with a bloody nose and run, Emasculate ..... some guys aren't so tough when they have to grapple with another naked bloke who has a bigger cock than they do. 

Ach that's no good I'm think I'm past those and besides the French love to wrestle naked men it's what they do.
"If in danger or in doubt, turn around and shoot it out" aye I'm no gonna lose them so that is my only option.
Old Knudsen skided to a stop and got off his 10 speed bicycle, he pulled out his twin .357 Desert Eagles from his two shoulder holsters under his tweed jacket and started to fire at the oncoming police cars.
The heavy caliber bullets tore into the police cars putting the drivers into a panic, aye this old spy still had teeth. The first car crashed to a stop into the side of a bus full of children and the second went into its back. His 18 rounds fired he holstered his guns and opened his eyes for the first time since firing.

Oh they were ambulances, what the fuck does MEDICIN  and SAMU mean anyways? They should know better than to ride up the ass of a cyclist who is on heavy medication and possibly drunk.

My mission was still a go.

A list of top operatives had been stolen, if that file got into the wrong hands then hundreds of people who have been undercover for years living seemingly normal lives or in positions of power would be in danger.

Merkel and Putin have been known to personally take care of spies and traitors making it long and as painful as possible for them to die to set an example to others.

I jumped back onto my bike, shifted gears and took off at speed .... well it seemed fast to me.

I made my way to the Rue Saint-Lazare the sweat was pouring off me like gravy, there I'd meet a contact at the Delaroche Hotel.

I walked through the heavy glass doors and as I took off my bicycle clips I surveyed the room to check for enemy agents and hot weemen, it was Paris, all the women were hot, if not a little hairy.

The elegant bar in the lobby full of fancy mirrors and coloured glass lamp shades had about 8 people in it, she sat by the wall in semi shadow, easy for an amateur to miss, she wouldn't miss a thing as she had full view of who came in or out.

I sucked in my stomach and walked over to her. A perfect chameleon she blended in effortlessly as she sipped on a wine. Nice to see you again Anna, it's been ..... "It's been too long, why have you not come to Moscow and fulfilled my need for a father figure?"

Ever since Anna Chapman got caught spying and sent back to Russia our intense physical relationship has been strained, she is way too needy anyways, Old Knudsen is like the wind and not meant for just one sail. She wanted a drawer to keep her spare throwing knives in and to share me dead letter box. 

"I just missed you in Istanbul" ... aye lass, don't worry, it was a tricky shot and the glare of the sun probably blinded you a little.

 
Poor Anna, she has been coming up with ingenious plans to ambush Old Knudsen but she always forgets the number one rule, always use lube .... no the number two rule, don't get emotionally attached or leave DNA at the scene.

Now Anna, you know how important this file is, many people who consider themselves my friend will probably die horribly if it falls into the wrong hands, the stability of Europe will be totally destroyed as the US and the UK will have to admit to wide scale, long term spying on everyone. "Yes my ninja of love I know what is at stake, we're prepared to give you £5000 for it".... oh, is that a lot of money? "Well you could certainly get a room here and order champagne while I slip into something revealing yet not very practical and then you could slip into me."

What the hey that was more than Germans had offered, the Chinese would pay more but I had one in the chamber and I was ready to burst so I accepted her offer. 

I know all there is to know about the spying game. The file got to Moscow and it turned out that it was a decoy to flush out moles, you cannae trust anyone these days, luckily I had a patsy take the fall.

Now Putin is after me for £5000 and for getting his spy up the duff, you only think you have troubles.