Lucy and Pawser swept into the restaurant with all the poise and grace of a pair of thirty's films stars at the inaugural night of their premier movie release. It was clear from the build up that they were to be the main attraction of the evening's entertainment.

Pawser was determined not to disappoint the new starters that made up the staple of each year's Christmas do. In his immaculate white DJ he fancied he had a cut of Clark Gable about him. Lucy, with her hand resting lightly on his arm looked impossibly radiant in a stunning purple glittering evening gown. She was every inch his Joan Crawford.

Pawser was gratified to see the crowd around the bar stop talking, arrested by this magnificent spectacle. Nudging each other they slowly turned to look at Clark and Joan as they gracefully crossed the balloon filled room toward the bar.

Dirk was the first to break ranks from the pack. Resplendent in a shimmering black suit that was so sharp it could have drawn blood he shot forward, grabbed Pawser's hand and shook it as if he was wrestling with an angry snake. On Dirk's wrist was a gold watch the size of a navy chronometer and he smelt like he'd had a close encounter with a market trader giving out fake aftershave samples.

'Bloody hell Pawser. Well done. You lucky bastard.' He whispered enviously to Pawser. 'Lucy, you look fantastic!' he said turning to Lucy and grabbing her by both hands. 'Can I buy you both a drink?'

'Yes you can.' Pawser said, pulling him away from Lucy. Linking his arms through Dirks and Lucy's they strode up to the bar together.

'Dirk, get your own librarian. You can't have mine,' Pawser hissed infuriatedly at Dirk.

'There's only Miss Pedsel the shelf stacker down there and she's 106 and smells of pee,' remarked Dirk disdainfully.

'Well Dirk, you should know how libraries work. You go in, have a browse around and pick out what you want. Then if you've got the right credentials they let you take it away and enjoy it,' instructed Pawser. 'I've got Lucy here and if all that's left on the shelf is Miss Pedsel you'll just have to make do. Her cover may be a bit battered and her pages carry the delicate aroma of urine but underneath she may be a darn good bodice ripper.'

'Be that as it may Pawser, you forget, I'm from Essex,' replied Dirk,' where the only reason I ever had to go to a library was to nick of copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover. Anyway you have to return what you have borrowed when you have finished with it. I think I'll wait until then and pick her out for myself. If she hasn't been misused in any way that is it. Some library members can be so inconsiderate don't you think?' Dirk waved cheerily at a huddle of girls in short skirts drinking cocktails round the Christmas tree.

They had reached the bar, the crowd parted to allow them through.

'Drinks then?' offered Dirk waving his hand at the barman.

Pawser turned to be greeted by the unwelcome face of McBride beaming at him so gleefully Pawser assumed that moments before he must have handed Father Christmas his P45. McBride was wearing a peaked tartan hat with a tassel on it, short black dress jacket and full regalia of sporran, kilt tartan socks and polished shoes revealing a pale pair of short hairy legs.

'Pawser nice to see you've made a bit of an effort and who's this lovely lady with you. Ah Lucy! 'Jocko pulled a face that Pawser took to be his best attempt at mock shock, 'Can it be you! You look absolutely stunning.' Jocko kissed Lucy on both cheeks, hugged her for a few moments and probably would have crawled up the inside of her dress if Pawser hadn't been there to stop him.

Dirk had returned with the drinks and nudged Pawser. 'So who told Jocko it was fancy dress. Is that why he's come of one of the wizards of ozz's munchkins wrapped in his car boot blanket.'

'What's that?' said Jocko. 'Ah, I see you have all noticed I'm wearing my family's tartan. I'm sure you'd like to know a bit about my famous forebears eh?'

'That sounds splendid,' enthused Dirk with a wink to Pawser.

'Yes, I'm glad you asked. It's Dirk isn't it?'

To Pawser's despair Dirk nodded and beamed encouragingly at Jocko.

'My family are one of the Clans that had a profound influence on Scottish history you'll be interested to hear, 'Jocko droned.

Dirk grinned and nodded receptively.

'The clan Dougle fought at Prestonpans, Falkirk and Culloden with some distinction you know.'

'Dougle?' queried Pawser.

'My wife's maiden name. Yes.' replied McBride unabashed and continued. 'Yes, I must say we Scottish showed you Brits how to do it then didn't we? A little Scots vigour and we had you all running back to London with your tails between your legs eh?' he trumped.

'Didn't the Scots lose at Culloden,' interjected Lucy who was a bit of a stickler for her historical fact.

'Revisionist British historians I'm afraid Miss Fangle. You couldn't possibly admit defeat could you? It was actually some of the Scots who changed sides to help the British that day. So it was a Scottish victory however you look at it.' Jocko stated confidently casually dismissing Lucy's comment with a flippant wave of his hand.

'Hmm,' said Lucy looking distinctly unimpressed.

'Was it your clan that changed sides?' Pawser piped up.

'I don't think that deserves a response does it?' said McBride dourly before taking a large slug of his whisky.

'Well it's a good thing the Scottish prevailed,' said Pawser assuming a diplomatic role, for the evening was still young and now was not the time for an early evening fracas,' otherwise look at all the things we would have missed, whisky, haggis, err..' Pawser floundered and found his feet again, 'deep fried mars bars and sun cream.' He took a large gulp of his wine.

'Well, Jocko my dear. I'm sure everyone's not here to talk about MY family history are they?' interjected the rosy faced lady who had been standing quietly next to Jocko.

'Oh Betty, my lovely. I'm sure they will want to catch up later on more of our family history. But, how rude of me I should have introduced you. May I introduce my wife Mrs McBride.' Jocko stood back. 'This is Dirk one of our top cryptologists and Lucy, our lovely librarian and Pawser, who ... works downstairs.'

Mrs McBride stepped forward. She was a big buxom lass wearing a low cut evening gown of glittering silver which billowed out over her ample bosom like a waterfall before falling to the ground around her chubby ankles. Where you couldn't have got an oiled cigarette paper between Lucy's pure white flesh and her clinging dress Mrs McBride could have smuggled a troop of travelling circus dwarfs around under hers.

Drawn as Pawser was to the more ample woman he found the overall effect was somewhat becoming.

'Please it's Betty,' she introduced herself with a soft Edinburgh accent. Jocko had quickly turned away to engage Lucy in some long tale which she was evidently feeling it necessary to find eminently funny.

Jocko, feeling that his work was done, with Lucy anyway, made an excuse about mingling but clearly feeling Mrs McBride should not accompany him left Pawser to entertain her. Not before giving Pawser the glare that indicated that any mishandling of the delectable Betty would be met with life threatening consequences.

Pawser turned to face Betty to find that Barry had sidled up accompanied by an elegantly dressed woman who he took to be Pandora. Barry's hair had been brushed to the peak of razor sharp perfection and Pandora had gracefully piled hers up in imitation of an octopus on a rock. No doubt in homage to Barry's coiffured masterpiece.

'Ah Barry. Good to see you and this must be the lovely Pandora,' welcomed Pawser.

Pandora smiled as gracefully as having a large eight tentacle creature on her head allowed and said 'Lovely' to everyone.

Pawser, somewhat underwhelmed by this conversational overload took it from her tone that she'd already attended a number of Christmas parties this year and had already become somewhat disenchanted by the civil service Christmas party merry go round. Pawser was not surprised; the word was in most Government Departments that the Porton Down gatherings should be acidulously avoided. Having two hundred biological researchers in a single room kissing and shaking hands was considered a little risky for anyone seeking to avoid the winter flu let alone walking away with a new strain of an incurable flesh eating disease .

'Mrs McBride. Betty, may I introduce you to Barry. He's Head of our Internal Communications,' said Pawser. Barry clicked elatedly in appreciation off his newfound elevated status.

'And this is Pandora, who is..,' said Pawser looking inquiringly at Barry. 'Who is,' Pawser floundered.

Barry flapped his hands together doing a passable impression of a sea lion waiting for a ball to be thrown at him.

'Who is a fishmonger from Windsor,' Pawser concluded impatiently.

'A marine biologist,' Barry corrected firmly, looking despairingly skyward.

'Oh is that what fishmongers call themselves nowadays.' said Betty amused.

'No, she's a marine biologist,' assured Barry. 'She really is.'

She really isn't thought Pawser but Pandora smiled wearily seeming taking it all in her stride and slipped effortlessly into conversation with Betty.

Barry sidled up to Pawser, 'A fishmonger from Windsor!' he hissed irritatedly under his breath, 'I meant a marine biologist. Couldn't you tell. It was obvious.'

'It was bloody close enough Barry. If you will have your secrets. You'd hardly want me to introduce her as the creator of apoplectic warfare agents would you?' said Pawser noticing Neville hovering on the edge of their group, 'Ha Neville, how are you. Where's Jenny?'

'She can't come. Her father died yesterday.' Neville had the demeanour of a Dachshund who'd lost his favourite rubber toy.

Pawser eyed Neville suspiciously but decided he was too early into the game for Neville to try to double bluff him. 'That's terrible Neville. Right before Christmas as well.'

'Yes I know. She was going to give me a lift home and all. Now I'm going to have to pay for a taxi,' agreed a sullen Neville.

'I feel for your loss Neville, trying to get a black cab this time of the year is almost impossible.'

Neville nodded forlornly to himself and took a long draught of his beer.

'Do you know Lucy Fangle our librarian?' said Pawser brightly, 'Oh yes of course you do.'

Neville nodded sheepishly at Lucy.

'Perk up Neville .There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Just ask Pandora over there, she's a marine biologist. Isn't she Barry?' said Pawser to an irritated looking Barry.

'Fish? How do you mean Mr Bingham?' inquired Neville.

'Look around you Neville. Imagine you're in a giant ocean swimming with fish. Look at all those sparkly dresses, all those elegant fit bodies catching the light. Like a giant shoal of sardines.'

'There are a few cod and mullet in there by the looks of it,' observed Dirk disdainfully.

Pawser took Neville by the arm and drew him away from Dirk.

'A glittering shoal of bright, beautiful sardines. Look how they swim, Neville. Like a giant bait ball ready to be captured by a brave man. Go in there my young fisherman friend. Go in there and see what you can catch.' Pawser patted Neville reassuring on the shoulder.

'I see what you mean. Perhaps I should go fishing,' said Neville shaking off his torpor, his gaze falling expectantly on Lucy.

'Now, now Neville. You know the old saying- A young fisherman will never catch a marlin on his first trip out however large his tackle,' Pawser impressed upon Neville.

'I haven't heard that one Mr Bingham,' said Neville doubtfully scratching his head.

'Well I have Neville, and believe me your tackle's not nearly large enough,' said Pawser bluntly.

'Go on Neville what have you got to lose?' added Dirk encouragingly.

'Thanks Mr Bingham. I'm off fishing,' Neville nodded appreciatively, took a large gulp of beer and wandered off toward a crowd of boisterous girls drinking shorts at the far end of the bar.

'Speaking of the sea. Neville's obviously swims in the shallow end. He's forgotten Jenny already by the looks of him,' said Dirk as they watched Neville weave his way toward the bar, 'I bet he pulls a lobster. A big one.'

'In all probability Dirk,' reflected Pawser,' but then that is what Christmas parties are all about aren't they. Speaking of shallowness and women I recall you were not going to be here tonight. Do not the bejewelled beauties of Essex hold greater allure than the MI5 Christmas piss up? Or is Essex experiencing a sudden famine of handbags tonight leaving them all stranded at home?'

'Couldn't miss seeing you escorting our Chief Librarian to the Do could I? I thought you might need some moral support. Any way it turns out I'm glad I did. That Pandora's a bit of aright .Don't you think?' Dirk nodded gloatingly toward Pandora.

'Leave Pandora alone my friend .Those dolphins can be mighty territorial you know.'

'I suppose your right,' sighed Dirk casting his eye eagerly around the room, 'I guess there are plenty of other fish to pluck from the sea.'

'An unfortunate turn of phrase in your case Dirk. I suppose they didn't bet on the great grey sperm whale cruising these waters tonight otherwise the smaller fry would have been told to stay close to shore, suitably forewarned about you and your plucking aspirations. You will behave with some decorum won't you?' Pawser pressed.

'Hold on to your harpoon Captain Ahab. I'll be discrete.'

'Well just don't forget that Jocko McBride is here tonight. He could launch the whole of the Nantucket whaling fleet quicker than you could sidle up to any young female snapper here and say -'would you like a quick glimpse of my Moby Dick'. Just remember what happened last year.'

'I'm sure I'm as tasteful as the next man here,' Dirk reassured Pawser before turning to the ladies. 'Ah Lucy I hear that a volume called Crevices and Orifices has become particularly sought after just recently. I can't see the attraction myself but I suppose I should read it for purely educational reasons. I couldn't find it in the library the other day. You wouldn't recall who has it out at the moment would you?'

'More drinks everybody,' offered Pawser loudly.