From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 20)
I’ve always thought that I’m rather a good dancer. This seems to surprise people, but then, what is dancing if not the strict control of one’s limbs? It’s a skill I wish more would master. Walking down a busy Oxford Street on a rainy day, knowing how to move oneself quickly and skilfully, is all that really separates a gentleman from losing an eye to the spokes of a dowager’s umbrella. On certain days, especially those in the run up to Christmas, excessive crowds and inclement weather can cause one to do a positive tango along the streets in order to survive.
Dancing is all about balance, so when an opponent attempts to push one under a tram or bus on a busy thoroughfare, one can quickly rebalance and assist them under the wheels of the oncoming vehicle instead. Of course, this is not an option to be taken lightly. It’s a very showy way of dealing with an attacker, and simply not the done thing. We British are all about subtlety. If I’m in the unfortunate position of hastening someone else’s mortality, my aim is to accomplish the task as swiftly and quietly as possible, so that their demise is attributed either to nature or misadventure. So often my work for the service is to avoid distressing the general public with dangers arising from bloodthirsty misanthropes or foreign agents.
Balance and foot placement are also the fundamentals of any fighting art. Personally, I am fond of the art of cane fighting (or Bartitsu, to give it its proper name) as I often have one to hand. Female agents can be trained to use an umbrella or parasol instead, which gives the added option of swiftly opening the canopy in their opponents face to blind and disorient them. Most disconcerting, as I can personally confirm. I will never forget that female Dutch spy, quite the beauty, who violently engaged me with her parasol one early morning in Antwerp. My own cane has the added benefit of being a swordstick, its blade being tempered steel, well-oiled for easy access.
Of course, when an agent has nothing else, he still has his physical form. Learning to make the most of this, and keeping oneself in good shape, is an obvious necessity. Escaping from bindings, trapping and locking an opponent’s joints, easing them into unconsciousness (without actually suffocating them), leaping from moving vehicles and plain old running are all basic spy skills. I also rather enjoy skiing, though I rarely get the chance.
It can be difficult to practise one’s skills when on an undercover mission of some length. I am fortunate that many of mine take place among our country’s aristocracy. Not only is the bedding generally clean and comfortable, but there is always an opportunity to dance. The better one dances, the better one can make their dancing partner seem, even if they’ve been born with the hooves of a staggering mule.
It’s also a most excellent form of exercise, with the added bonus that one has the opportunity to enjoy the close proximity of a lady without being seen as inappropriate. During a dance, one may flirt outrageously while still maintaining the appearance of behaving in a gentlemanly manner. Ladies are much desirous of talented dancing partners. If married to successful men, they generally find that as their husbands age (and generally being somewhat older than their wives to start with), their increasing portliness hampers their ability to dance - as well as other physical activities.
It is an unspoken rule, though widely known, that dancing gives an insight into one’s abilities in the bedroom. Many a woman, who would never contemplate being unfaithful to her spouse, has been content, if not delighted, to spend a dance in my arms as I whirl her masterfully around the room. I can see from the look in her eyes, she is not thinking about us as dancing partners, but fantasising about quite a different form of pairing. Generally, under those circumstances, I hold her more firmly, spin her more forcefully, and allow her to indulge in her fantasy without bringing her reputation into question. On occasion, I admit, I use dancing as an act of deliberate seduction, but more commonly, it simply leads to a better acquaintanceship and thus to the eliciting of any required information.
When a spy dances, things are rarely quite what they seem.