CLASSIFIED
(With apologies to Len Deighton, this is my attempt at a humorous, poetic tribute to Harry Palmer, cold war hero of The Ipcress File and Funeral in Berlin)
Insubordinate Sergeant Palmer ,
blinking blondly: what a charmer !
Searchlight spectacles, off just for bed ,
Reads your field reports by cocking his head .
But Harry’s file’s not in the tray ;
Even his Zodiac’s gone astray .
Another scam? Bird on expenses?
Clerical error, Ministry of Defence’s?
“Mozart and champignons, one-fifty a year?
He’s legged it to Berlin for some bitte beer.”
“A British warrant officer would never leave his lighter,
let alone official secrets, with some Russian blighter.”
“Isn’t there some rule that all our moles
should at least hold a Fellowship at All Souls?”
When the bandstand’s quiet and the cold war’s done
He’ll send us a postcard to tell us who won.
Has he really defected? An ugly rumour …
but I shall miss that sense of humour.