Now before we go any further, that is completely untrue. I’m not really Joan Collins at all. Be honest though, I had many of you fooled there for a moment, didn’t I? That is because, in my job, I am specially trained in the art of telling lies. No, madam, it’s not another party political broadcast. 
So, what is it I do? 

Well, what I’m about to tell you tonight is, of course, incredibly secret. Ever so secret, so you must listen very carefully, and when I’ve said it, memorize it completely. And then forget it. And then eat the television set. 

In the secret organization I work for, all identities, for security purposes, have to be kept strictly confidential.  For instance, I haven’t the faintest idea who I am, nor do I know what my job is. When I drive myself home from work, I have to wear a blindfold so I don’t find out where I live. 

Even in the bedroom at night, my wife and I have to observe strict security precautions. First of all, we switch out the lights, then I get undressed and approach the bed and my wife will challenge me with the words “Who goes there?”. I then reply with a secret password, which is “A cockeyed, cack-handed Canadian from Connecticut, collecting coffee colored cream cracker crumbs in a crude cracked cocoa cup”. If I get that wrong, I have to sleep on the landing with the cat, a short, white Caucasian cat called Corky with a chronic cough and croup. And if I get that wrong, the cat puts me out all night. 

Now this all-pervading secrecy over names could, of course, be very harmful to the normal smooth running of whatever it is we do in our department, so, in order that we have something to call each other, we simply stick pins at random into a phone book. And my name is Slumberland Quilts. But that’s just a cover. 

Now, when I joined the highly secret organization to which I now belong, I had to, first of all, sign the official secrets act. This means that I agreed to be bound by the articles, which is much worse than being bound by the hands and feet.  

Now, one of the most interesting things about my job is the equipment some of us have to use. Here, for instance, is a bottle of invisible ink. Oh dear, it’s empty.

Now, what is the best way to bug a telephone? Well, ring it and run away. That really bugs ‘em. 

And, of course, there are also devices for countering bugs. In Britain today, we have now developed a foolproof system for jamming virtually any telephone calls anywhere in the country. It’s known as The Phone Company. 
  And of course, for sports fans, there is always this . . . a Bristol supporter. For female agents, this innocuous looking bra is, in fact, cleverly constructed to conceal a tape recorder. Very simple to operate, to record, you press this side here, for rewind, you press this side here. Of course, for play, you just take it off altogether. 

Now, this scrambling device works in much the same way as the one you put on a phone when you don’t want anyone listening to understand what you’re saying. Except with this one, you can use it when you’re actually speaking to someone face to face. All you do is insert it up your nostril like this, you see. Then you can go on hearing to your tent’s contort so that nobody can underspline a word of stand you are whatting. And if you’ve had a dong lay at work, you can club out you wiffles to the poor without having leak out any  worry or seats on the pork finch. Works perfectly. 

Now, cover. Now I know several men who are undersecretaries of the home office, and indeed vice versa, come to think of it. Always a good cover, that. 

Now, disguise too is important. A colleague of mine, Sir Catford Public Library, is an absolute wizard in the art of disguise; in fact, I’d like to introduce him to you now. Uncanny, He’s wonderful at impersonating fruit. You should see his banana.  

Well, there you have it in a nutshell. Oh, that’s something else he can do. Now, whatever you do, don’t breathe a word of what I’ve said tonight to anyone, will you.  

Like I said last night when the boss asked me what I made of his new secretary, “Mum’s the word.” 

Good night.