From Fitzroy’s Private Diary (Extract 169)

There are some days when all I want to do is sit reading by the fire, with my dog snoring at my feet. Despite this, I’ll find myself at some society party, where I’m required to be charming, witty and entertaining, all the while growling inside like a dog deprived of its bone.

It might seem to some that spending one’s time among the elite, ferreting out enemies of the state, the gullibly indiscreet, and those who are in a position to be ‘helpful’, would be an easy task. After all, I belong to the best clubs, I patronise the right tailors, I wear the best cologne, and I’m always groomed in a perfectly distinguished, yet unremarkable, way. I’m fortunate enough to be a naturally handsome chap, but even so, the elegant appearance I must casually present takes a great deal of work. What’s more, when at these elite social events, I’m not allowed to do as I please. I cannot partake of any refreshments that might dull my senses, so I’m forced to pass on the best of wines, or worse still, pour the contents of my untouched glass into the nearest flower pot. I cannot even overly partake of the vittles on offer, lest they slow my body and mind. I must, at every moment, be alert to not only threats and rumours, but also opportunities. It is wearing on a man.

The so-called elite classes, the ones with power – be that through influence, position or base finance – are mostly of a dullness that is quite remarkable. I, therefore, do not have to play the fool among them, the jester who humorously entertains while rooting out all sorts of information. No, while some of my colleagues may have chosen such a guise, I refuse to do so. If I have to spend time spying on such dullards, I entertain myself by being an engaging man of mystery, and making ugly fellows shuffle protectively towards their wives.

Yet, still there are occasions when I know that my wit and insight fall on the deafest of ears, and are barely comprehended by the shallowest of minds. That such ‘chumps’ are often the people who orchestrate the inner workings of our nation appalls me and makes me wonder how we remain the greatest empire on earth. The truth, no doubt, lies with fellows like myself, and my peers, who work tirelessly behind the scenes to keep the show on the road. Never mind the politicians, who usually get all the accolades, without my kind, it would all end in disaster.

I do take pleasure in playing the game, in manipulating people and dispensing disinformation where required. There’s something satisfying about winding up these imbeciles – like clockwork toys – and sending them off to do my bidding, unbeknownst to them, of course. I admit, it gives one a certain sense of power. I suppose it’s fortunate that I ended up on the side of the angels as I could’ve been quite a malign influence otherwise.

However, it’s a lonely task. When one’s intellect is of a magnitude above one’s associates, it can be isolating. However, even the social elite includes ladies, and it’s here that one can find minds with which to engage in discourse. I constantly thank providence that the female of the species are so much more interesting than the male. When someone such as myself enters the lives of these pretty, quick-witted young ladies, who’ve been paraded about by their mothers for the prospect of having the marriage of the season, they’re all too ready to enjoy a little intellectual – and perhaps even physical – intercourse with myself.

So, thank goodness for them, I say! Without the ladies, this particular part of my profession would be unbearably tedious. So tedious, in fact, I fear that without their tender attentions, I’d be tempted into doing some very bad things indeed.