‘A modern GF’ – a November pome
My name is Fookes, Guy Fookes, the spook.
Yes, Doubl’-O-K, so spell it right!
Licensed to kill, I am, and look!
I’m all tooled up and fit to fight.
You’ll want to know who runs my show.
A British ‘M’? A Euro-cell?
The Mossad? CIA? Er, no.
Thing is, I actually don’t know.
My nameless boss sends a ‘device’
To plug into my wrist PC.
(Don’t ask! You must take my advice -
Don’t question my technology.)
My latest tasks you’ll recognise.
They’ve made the headlines, loud and clear.
My special skill’s well honed, disguised
In ‘truthful’ reportage. Oh dear!
My modus (in a word or two)
Is bringing chaos to the lives
Of pow’rful men – and women - who
Abuse the workers in their hives.
You want some names, I realise,
To ‘verify’ my exposèe.*
But if my files were for your eyes
I’d lose my credibilitè.*
But just for fun I will reveal
Two clues betrayed by project name:
The first one’s ‘Bunga’ – yes, for real!
And ‘Auntie’ who’s still in the frame!
Now eat this page. My cover’s blown!
I’m ready with a new ID.
My world is weird. My life has shown
That sharing is a luxury.
* My wrist PC has no ‘accent acute’