I fear, Oberkommandant Backside that our cover has been blown due to poor choices in plants. My mission to peacefully integrate the United Kingdom into a greater German Empire has not gone as planned. In shame, I will resign from the mission and go into self-imposed exile in China. I regret that my failure will lead to Germany’s continued Orkney Cheddar deprivation. The fault, however, is not entirely my own. Your choice of Dougal MacDog as mole was a poor one indeed. Also, you seriously underestimated the abilities of Scotland’s two finest Mi6 agents, Mr and Mrs Mackie.
Initially the mission proceeded without a hitch. I was able to depart San Francisco without delay or trouble. I passed through security at Heathrow and Dublin undetected. They truly suspected that I was just a late-20s Hun traveller. The delay in hold luggage delivery at Embra Airport made me slightly nervous but I’ve since been made aware that they are never especially efficient in that regard, hence a half-hour wait when mine was the only flight to arrive is not unusual. Mr Mackie greeted me at airport and escorted me, at this point still unaware of my mission, to headquarters where he introduced me to Mrs Mackie. Their impeccable manners and warm hospitality, I admit, made me slightly complacent. I fear that this also led Kommandant MacDog to turn double-agent.
In order to achieve full infiltration, I perfected the pronunciation of “the Leith police dismisseth us”. This, however, only piqued Agent Mackie’s curiosity. After all, why would I know something like that much less be able to say it correctly? After all, the average Scotsman or Scotswoman following a Saturday-night bender wouldn’t be able to manage it. Moreover, your training me in Glaswegian street songs did little to reduce his concern. Never-the-less, Agent Mackie did not show his cards.
My intelligence-gathering mission throughout Scotland was not entirely futile. Scotland is a beautiful country with scenery that puts ours to shame. The Highlands, which I was able to see from Perth and Kinross, are of a far higher quality than our Alps. Rugged and wild, there is an atmospheric quality that can be found nowhere else. Should we eventually be able to secure Scotland, I will insist – if, of course, I am permitted to take up the position of Governor General of Greater Britain – on my seat of power being Scone Palace. It’s a splendid building and I already have my suite selected. Namely, Queen Victoria’s State Rooms as it would seem meet to celebrate our new union by basing it in the quarters of a great British queen with much German heritage. In keeping with austerity, I would also advise requisitioning the Royal Yacht Britannia. It was designed in the best of taste and I quite approve of Prince Philip’s sense of style. His room will become mine.
Furthermore, I have become well-versed in the high art of the Full Scottish Breakfast. Haggis, while perhaps not aesthetically pleasing, is a culinary master-stroke. Scottish black pudding is almost as delightful. It’s far superior to the Irish version and compares favourably to the Hunnish. Clootie Dumpling is similarly a culinary delight. While perhaps not on the same level as a proper Pfeffernuβ, it is still edible. Scottish sausages are also more than palatable. However, sausages were also instrumental to the failure of our mission. Kommandant MacDog has been systematically bribed with smoked Austrian sausages. His addiction to them has made him prone to divulge any and all secrets to those prepared to procure them.
Mrs Mackie’s ability to suss things out should not be overlooked. I noted that she was taking a keen interest in my response to the Real Mary King’s Close and St Giles Cathedral. Following our falling-out in April, I have been searching for new quarters for Blond Adonis and have found the plague rooms at Mary King’s ideal for the purpose. Terror Cousin can be sent to the Chesney Shop. There are enough tools there for him to make enough noise to torment his older brother and mother.
For those times I would be obliged to stay in the city I’ve found suitable quarters at Edinburgh Castle. The views over the city are stunning and there are enough cannons, (still functional!) for me to make my point as necessary. Upon inspection, Mons Meg seems the best candidate for that. After witnessing the disgraceful behaviour at the Scottish National War Memorial by three Shanghai women I’ve also found the first three people to shoot out the cannon. My Chinese-type Unterkommandant, Agent Crazy Ape, will be quartered Edinburgh Castle’s military gaol whenever he annoys, vexes, perturbs or otherwise irks me. Which, to be frank, is daily. What irked me slightly more was the lack of any British symbols in Greyfriars Kirk. St Giles has them, most Anglican churches – whether in London, Dorchester, Sydney or Hong Kong have them but not that particular church.
We can host visiting guests at Georgian House, 7 Charlotte Square. Agent Crazy Ape, in the rare moments he chooses not to pester me, can be transferred to said residence’s wine cellar with remit to sit gagged in servants ‘quarters at my discretion. The elegance of the residence would show our new Regierung in a very good light. 18th-19th century obsessions with keeping up appearances, at least for those with pretensions of certain means, could benefit us immensely. The period furniture is also in the best of taste.
I fear that I could not complete my mission to inspect Holyrood Palace or the Abbey. Walking down the Royal Mile by heart sunk when I saw the Lion Rampant flying. Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh were in-residence. Showing the police my credentials would only have sparked concern so I had to content myself with the stench sewage by the new Scottish Parliament. I’m not entirely certain if it emanated from the building or the sewer. In either case, it reminded me strongly of the current governing party in Scotland. I also failed to be able to make it to Glasgow. Having only time to scratch the surface of Edinburgh I found it best to concentrate my efforts there. Glasgow, I’ve been warned, is a city that takes more effort to appreciate as it is more spread-out. However, I intend full well to do so in the future. I am interested in visiting the Edwardian tenements.
As my mission drew to a close I was growing increasingly nervous that Agents Mr and Mrs Mackie were catching onto me. I admit that I revealed too much knowledge of the intended North Germania. The final denouement came on the final night over a Scottish salmon supper. Mr Mackie trapped me. Although I divulged no information, it became clear that he knew what the nature of my mission was. It also became clear that Kommandant MacDog was not so much a double-agent as a turn-coat. I felt I had no other way to undermine his intelligence-gathering than by knowingly asking him if a game of bowls was a cricket match. That, however, only left me in the clutches of the subtly effective Mrs Mackie who shares my fondness of Rachmaninoff. In fact, this nearly led me to change sides like MacDog.
Effectively neutralised for moment, Mr Mackie allowed me to slip away. I have since arrived in Germany with only 2.2 pounds of cheddar and just over 3 pounds of tea. I will end my report here as I must continue to prepare for my exile in China.