In forfeit of any sort of delicious fruit, a peach or a pear would be exquisite at this very moment, anything with sweet succulent flesh, dripping with juice, and perhaps a gin or something. Tequila would perhaps make him slightly less opportune at the sense of purposefulness that besets him now.

He was on his last legs, his last raggedy set of wheels, and the skin on his face red raw, except where it was covered with a raggedy dirty dyed beard. He had a strange look in his eye, a distinctive posture which set himself slightly apart from someone going about the normal nature of their business. It was like he was on a mission, and more than that he was an Englishman on a mission, and that was a quest for the Queen and God equally.

JD continued to ride his bike onwards to find the British embassy, his last strength is fading, his tongue is parched, and he has no adequate coinage to circumstance a purchase of time, more time, he had not time to stop. He must find someone with a sense of responsibility if he were to report the dastardly plans of the mad Sheik Prince and convey its message of urgent danger back to England, and of course, this person had to be by requirement and prior description an Englishman, of whom was required a certain steady constitution of which he knew well. Thirst could wait for now, it was only midday.

He knew in his heart that if he were to perish on this path that people would remember him like Phidippides, perhaps her majesty would present him with a posthumous medal, he knew just now was not a time to day-dream, but his mind was weak, his body was more faithful, ever onwards it forced the bicycle machination onwards. Only a determination worthy of England could endeavour such masochism, for who else would ever endeavour to do such a wretched thing as complete a marathon, when it would forever injure knees, ankles and work their internal organs to the limit, in order to increase their health?

JD thinks perhaps he would collapse dead when he reached his destination. He stops for a second to consider the consequences of this, would the press at home know that he had saved England, then the world, from this evil plot of the mad Sheik, or would they hush it up and perhaps they would be a little obituary in the times about how John Davies had perished on his round the world cycling adventure. He could see his mother, sisters, and all the girls back at the charity club crying their poor bloody eyes out. The Boys from the Rugby team leaving a full pint at the bar for Friends lost, JD was distraught, perish the thought, they would say, at least he was thinking of England

He has stopped beside a stall selling assorted rugs; JD has just about composed himself, his epitaph, when the stall owner strangely enough speaks to him

“Sahib, you seem tired, do you want water, coca-cola?”

JD smiles, thinking, Bloody hell, he had not expected such kindness from these the Arabs, but, then he realizes it must be because she must know that he was an Englishman, she must have recognized something about him, a certain nobility as he strives onwards to complete his mission, he had reminded her of the Englishman’s zeal, this is why she must have offered him charity. God be blessed, God always smiles on the Englishman and rightly so. The English had civilized the entire world, they had freed it from the chance of French domination, and one thing he knew for bloody sure that modern history would have looked differently if there had been Frenchs in the White House for World War I and World War II. Thank god for the English, it was his History Teachers catch phrase at school, and he thought it very apt

Chastity, hope and the noble cause, these were his watch-words, perhaps, however, he was never really that strongly opinionated about anything really in case people started saying he was a madman, not eccentric like proper gentlemen. Perhaps this could be his last oath, for were his bicycle a horse, then he would be a Knight, Gawain returning with the Holy Grail to the greatest land in all of Christendom

Caution was his watchword and he did not quite trust the Arabs, but her fruit was delicious, and he thanked her with a smile, and muttered in the best Lebanese he could muster, she smiled back, he could tell by her eyes and those eyes could certainly smile. More than that perhaps and he could sense some hope to conspire for she whispers into his ear in Hebrew

“I am Leila”

JD wasn’t quite sure when he had picked up the old Hebrew but he must have somehow, because he whispers back to her that he could do with a quick brew, you know of English breakfast tea if she would possibly mind. She says meet me here, for what would be said if an Arabic women would leave her stall with the European, and many eyes were watching the Christian as he cycled into town.

Refreshed now, he soon arrives at the embassy, and after negotiating his way through the concrete slabs, barbed wires, searches, questions and delays manages to leave word. They told him he had not been expected but they could give him a brief meeting.

The ambassador signalled to the Boy

“Tea for two, now, Boy”

The boy scurries away

“Frightfully hot out here, isn’t it, mustn’t grumble though old boy, eh”

The hot tea soothes JD and even, if possible, under the influence of the sweet, black, lemon, sumptuous liquid he becomes even more of an Englishman, and what is more English than an Englishman amongst his compatriots.

JD beams

“Well, I have some frightfully bad news about the dastardly plan of the Mad Sheik Prince, listen I will tell you what I saw”

After he finished the Ambassador nods and looks at him inquisitively

”and this is only hearsay?”

“I am afraid so”

“The Destination is unknown?”

“Yes”

The Ambassador shrugs and chortles

“Enough of business, how about a gin before dinner”

He signals the Boy

“Well you heard; off you go now, Boy”

He pulls a cord, it must be a bell, a young man enters, one of the under secretaries

“Did you get that Jenkins?”

“Yes, ambassador”

“Well be a good girl and get the boys in communications to telegraph that back to London on the double, now there’s a dear, love”

He turns to JD

“Where would we be without the secretaries?”

The boy returns with two Gin and tonic water’s, the ambassador sinks into his chair,

“Looks like we are buggered old boy, eh”

“Perhaps not Ambassador, not all is lost, I think I may have some business with Masada”

He chuckles

“Come on the old Shylocks, old boy”

And he claps JD on the shoulder

“Well good luck, be an Englishman my son”

Leila met JD later on that night in the pre-determined place, Levi was elsewhere, he understood, or perhaps he hid not care, only for Masada,

A weeping swirl, a deadly drone, the eerie semblance, the sweeping grand, the grating of the harp, and the scoundrels in their Stiff snarling Macs,

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLING”

And he picks a fresh corpse from a Pile, a young child and they wail

“WAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLING”

On their knees and they cry and by their sides they cradle their rifles, another tragedy for the Vengeful.

Levi did not ask for her approval and she appreciated him because of it, these businesses were none of his business, and so on and so forth.

She was beautiful and she had such wondrous eyes, such perfect symmetry, a duskiness which hypnotised him, an intrinsically formed structure and shapeliness that JD could not be helped but be drawn. He was helpless against the slow onslaught of her charms against his better nature. He told her everything, for what hope now, what hope for humanity at this, and you can even guess at the likely destination, at last he had found another spirit with whom he could confide, and he was stripped of all his pretence at least for a short blissful moment in his dutiful and dangerous life.

He was a raging inferno fit to burst like a bull elephant bursting through his baggy wigwam. He had been on his own cycling through the desert for a long time, and she flicks her dark hair, catching his eye leaning over to show him a glimpse of her mysterious depths, he almost faints and such heat rises in his cheeks, passion takes him and for a perfect moment he can express himself truthfully, free, and be himself for at least a moment in her sweet embrace.

Some portion of him, always repressed, for what chance did a warrior like him have, and if he had ever looked into his inner eye. She knows this.

He has been holding her hand and he is smiling as he undresses her, and she gives him a look, and, and JD kisses her passionately, he cannot control himself, and he wastes no time. JD is pumping her for all he is worth and he is in One Millionth heaven and by the way she is screaming in joy so is she, they look each other directly in the eyes, suddenly intense and silent, he grins, collapsing into her bosom and she clasps him with her arms and legs and grins

“FUCK”