It all started so promisingly, blue sky, light cloud, a perfect day for flying,I'd just lodged my flight plan and was leaving the control tower. A familiar, battered, white compact pulled up at the foot of the tower and an equally familiar figure emerged. Peter Petty, the safety concious conscience of the local council, Health & Safety Department and royal pain in my butt. "Morning Peter " I said, offering my hand, Petty did not reply, he walked over to our vintage fire engine 'Dennis' and began writing on his clipboard. His first words were all too familiar, "not good enough! this appliance is completely inadequate for airfield safety, not good enough, not good enough at all". I tried to explain that... " 'The Plant' is not technically an airfield and so not covered by....." but my words were drowned out by the giant C-130 Herculese taxiing past. My heart sank as I recognised the markings on the aircraft, I'd completely forgotten he was coming. 'He' is Abdul Ali Al Macogan, President of the the desert kingdom of Bangdahahd, he was here to upgrade his airforce. Even before the aircraft came to a halt, the tail ramp was lowered and an armour plated, bullet proof Hummer was ejected, as if fired from a cannon. It shot up the runway and in a cloud of tyre smoke, pulled a 180 handbrake turn and raced back towards us.Bouncing across the grass, narrowly missing 'Dennis', it came to rest in a parking space below the control tower.Unfortunately it was the same parking space already occupied by Petty's car, the result was predictable and not pretty. The passenger door opened and a figure in immaculate dark suit and shades emerged, Petty stepped forward ready to deliver some choice abuse. As the figure turned to face the oncoming threat Petty stopped dead in his tracks eyeing the Uzi clenched firmly in the right hand of his intended 'victim'. One word passed the lips of the immaculate man "Problem?", Petty backed up, "no, no" was the sum total of his intended outburst. We were in the presence of greatness, the worlds highest paid freelance bodyguard, Rock Sample.In a career spanning 40 years his list of employers was staggering... 1971 Wasfi al-Tal, Prime Minister of Jordan 1973 Amílcar Cabral, Pan-African intellectual 1975 Josiah Mwangi Kariuki, Kenyan politician 1976 Juan José Torres, former military President of Bolivia 1981 Anwar Sadat, President of Egypt 1983 Maurice Bishop, Prime Minister of Grenada 1987 Meena Keshwar Kamal, Afghan founder of the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan 1991 Rajiv Gandhi, former Indian prime minister 1994 Yitzhak Rabin, Prime Minister of Israel and 1994 Nobel Peace Prize recipient 1997 Jozo Leutar, minister of Internal Affair of Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina 1999 Andrzej Kolikowski, leader of the Pruszków mafia in Poland 2006 Abdallah Isaaq Deerow, former acting President of Somalia 2007 Benazir Bhutto, former Prime Minister of Pakistan (first and only lady Prime Minister of Pakistan. With every single one assassinated right under his nose, in gun, grenade and bomb attacks, Rock had never been injured, earning him the nickname 'The Ghost'. He now moved to the front of the tower, scanning the sky as if looking for something. Another figure slid from behind the wheel to the passenger side and got out, similarly dressed, similarly armed but a completely different 'kettle of fish'. The pretty blonde introduced herself, " I am Major Camilla Thoe Al Macogan, Daughter of Abdul Ali and head of the Bangdahahd Secret Service but everyone calls me 'Major Cameltoe' ". I HAD to ask, "and you're ok with that ?" The Major looked puzzled, " the camel is revered in my country, it's splayed toes have carried my people safely across the desert for Millennia, so this name is a compliment, no?". It seemed diplomatic not to pursue this, "Major Cameltoe it is then" I said offering my hand in friendship.......