From Fitzroy’s Private Diary (Extract 185)

I’ve a light and pleasing baritone voice that’s sometimes mistaken for that of a tenor. When I gatecrashed one of Alice’s missions, posing as a West End stage singer, she was quite taken aback to hear me sing. In fact, I recall the expression on her face was akin to what I’d imagine her reaction might be seeing a camel dance. Sadly, even I, with all my animal magnetism, couldn’t make a camel dance. Those creatures are as grumpy as Morley - our department head - and with a predilection for spitting in one’s face. To be fair, Morley only does this metaphorically.

Not only was Alice unaware that I could sing, but she didn’t know that I could read music as well, and that I have a love of the classics (Strauss, and Bach, in particular). Oh, certainly I can dance and sing along with more contemporary ‘in’ tunes, but I’m happiest listening to a live performance with a full and talented orchestra. I rather enjoy opera too – as long as the singers are good enough. I can overlook a few imperfections in execution, although, it’s something a bug bear of mind that tenors tend to be poorest, yet the most arrogant, of singers (which is why I hate being mistaken for one).

My mother taught me the piano when I was young, but I gave it up when she died. I suspect I could pick it up again. I do have a natural ear for music, as well as perfect pitch - but then, what else would one expect? The real problem, of course, is that one can hardly go on a mission with a piano in tow, but I can sing anywhere. I frequently do so in the bathroom. I’ve even been known to burst into song in my own front room. Even more so, I admit, when I learned Griffin is not an opera fan. The Barber of Seville seems to annoy him in particular, So I’ve become quite proficient at that.

I suppose, in general, I rarely sing in front of others because I feel it shows a different side of me. Music makes me feel that there’s hope for my fellow man. If we, as a species, are capable of producing something so divine, then one day we might actually give up our preoccupation with killing one another and become decent and honest creatures. When I sing, I’m filled with hope, and I become quite different. I’m transformed into an optimist (which is most embarrassing). Still, on top of all that, it never hurts that it tends to impress when one is embarking on the wooing of a lady.