Feeds for thought:
1) Superspying is a dirty profession. Think about, between all the random drops in random, undisclosed trash receptacles in unmarked bags, there have to be misses. Like instead of grabbing some secret doomsday machine, you picked the wrong side of the street and are running your hands through somebody's half-eaten spoiled babaganoush. If you're lucky. You could use latex gloves, but doesn't that make the entire activity a bit overly conspicuous, akin to running around with a set diplomatic plates?
Maybe I'm just a bit upset that I never pursued this path. I mean, apart from not knowing the language, being a moderate social misfit and not really having the ability to either stand out or settle in to a crowd, there's the problem of the unwanted waste. The bedbugs. The exotic cuisines that involve spleens, brains, bugs, mint tea. The dealing with society who's grasp on the language is middling, meaning nobody would actually get my jokes.
And I'm not gringo. But in general, being a superspy of any sort has to suck.
2) There is no 2. But I'm making bacon to eat with my tacos. Heart disease is overrated.
