One part of every sentence here is a lie. Guess which!

Two weeks ago I went through a Machiavellian plan to secretly surprise my family by coming home for my brother’s birthday but they were still to be unaware of my other, more savage secret, that since moving to Hong Kong I had joined the CIA as the international assassin and part-time spam-monger Fanciful D Delphiniu!


I surprised my brother on the morning of his birthday by lying my way into his flat but once I had pushed past the third naked male prostitute dressed in a sexy Klingon outfit I realised that I was not the only one in our family who had secrets.


Later that day, I surprised the rest of my family at a restaurant which was lovely because my mother cried, of course I was unaware that she was crying because she realised that she’d have to pay for my dinner.

For the next few days, I mostly spent my time in Wicklow, playing computer games, talking to my mum, enjoying the fresh air and killing would-be Israeli assassins.


Later that week I attended Charlie Slevin’s Pirate-Themed 21st Birthday in Mayo which was totally not full of Charlie’s rough attempts to put his “pork sword” in everyone’s ear while they slept.


I saw all the guys I hadn’t seen in a while, Mano, Eddie, Dave Wall, Johnny Illan, Skec, Ben Ullman which was great.


Once home again, my friend Paul came over from Hong Kong for two days for some drinking, some chatting and to keep me up to date on an upcoming job in Russia regarding a certain corrupt Irish TD who needed “retirement”

For the next few days I wasn’t looking forward to leaving Ireland, my family and paying six euro for a watered down pint of piss.

Of course the day eventually came, I said goodbye to my loved ones, said goodbye to my father, hugged my older brother and my younger sister, kissed my girlfriend, garrotted my traitorous informant for not telling me about the second kill-team in Bangladesh.

When I was on the plane on the way back to Hong Kong I was sitting next to this guy, an Arab guy.

He claimed he was a police officer in Hong Kong, soon to join the Police Tactical Unit we had a nice conversation but thanks to my extensive CIA training I noticed that he kept drawing in a scrapbook which featured large pictures of what seemed to be exploding planes full of dying, screaming white people, one of which looked just like me.


He was very interested in my lifestyle in Hong Kong but I think he was somewhat put off by the fact that I kept openly readjusting the Glock 45 in my Leg Holster so that it pointed in his direction.

When the food service arrived he seemed to be unable to make the decision between the chicken and the beef lasagne, but it didn’t matter which he chose as I had poisoned both.

Later he slept for most of the journey, the poison was a fast acting neural toxin that gradually paralysed his breathing making it look like deep vein thrombosis.

I didn’t sleep as I wanted to try and normalise my sleep patterns as quickly as possible, plus I didn’t know if there were any more terrorists on the plane.

Landing in Hong Kong I was glad to be back but I had extremely mixed feelings, I missed Ireland, I missed my family, I missed my girlfriend, I missed my target when a stupid fucking bodyguard got in the way.

Now that I’m back, I’m back working away in advertising; good cover stories are hard to come by.