User:Bizzeebeever/Articles/His or Her Majesty's Secret Service

“What are you on about?”

~ An officer of His or Her Majesty's Secret Service on being asked if there was such a thing as His or Her Majesty's Secret Service

Within this room are concealed five officers of the British Secret Service. Note how the officer on the left has spoilt the illusion, by being slightly out of of position.

His or Her Majesty's Secret Service (also the British Secret Service, BSS for short) serves as the Queen's last line of defence from the least ardent of her admirers, and is charged with maintaining the stiffness of the British Upper Lip, a fortification surrounding the entirety of the British Isles which, among other things, prevents the intrusion of Humor, Barbarians, and the French, and which dates to the time of King Harold the Usurper. Toward these ends, the BSS collect a great deal of intelligence, which they keep to themselves. And they'll be damned if they'll share one whit of it with you ruddy lot.

His or Her Majesty's Secret Service
The insignia of His or Her Majesty's Secret Service.
Overview
Mission:	Wouldn't you like to know.
Motto:	Motto for what? I tell you, there is no such thing.
Staff	None, as far as you know.
Headquarters	I say, are you being thick intentionally, or accidentally?

Properly called His or Her (No, We Will Not Tell You Which It Is, So Bugger Off) Majesty's Secret Service, the BSS is often confused with the SIS, commonly known as MI6. But they would have you know that those chaps over there at 6 are a lot of prats, who aren't worth the price of their exceptionally crisp shirts. If you are in need of a great stonking load of dodgy intelligence, obtained in a slap-dash manner by incompetent tossers, by all means, go consult with 6, and we wish you the best of British. If, on the other hand, you wish to have just the right amount of proper information, obtained by highly competent men and women clad in tweed, then you will want the British Secret Service. And the moment you'll want them, they'll be there. Sometimes, they'll be there several minutes beforehand. His or Her Majesty's Secret Service, you see, is "where it's at."

History of His or Her (Give It A Rest Already) Majesty's Secret Service

Sir Albert Southampton

Sir Albert Southampton at the Siege of Khartoum, 1885

The Service was founded in 1909 by Sir Albert Rutherfordshire Southampton, an intelligence officer in the British Army, who was renowned for his great skill of disguise, his love of puzzles, and his flair for the dramatic. Southampton had become known for his exploits at the Siege of Khartoum, where, surrounded on all sides (including from above), and outgunned 50,000-to-one, he single-handedly held off the entire Mahdist army for fourteen hours, by ignoring them utterly. When this was no longer possible, he held them off for another three hours with a disapproving glare.

This is either a very well-disguised Sir Southampton, c. 1911, or else a very poorly-disguised tea service.

It was said that Southampton was encouraged in the affair by the last words of his commander, General Charles Gordon, who shouted, "Give 'em hell from me, Southy! Don't yield an inch!" before expiring from a sudden, calamitous lack of internal organs. For his services during the Siege, Southampton was awarded a small but very smart plaque with his name on it, and a tap on the shoulders from Queen Victoria's Personal Conveyor of Approbation.

In June of 1909, Southampton disappeared without a trace from the Billingsgate Fish Market, in front of several hundred witnesses, in the midst of the acquisition of a large smelt. Shortly after, several other British intelligence officers also vanished, each of whom, like Southampton, disappearing whilst in the midst of buying sundry foodstuffs. The mysterious disappearances, and subsequent rumours that Southampton and the others were up to some deviltry or other, sparked an uproar in the British press, and a great deal of dissatisfied shouting from the British lower classes, who apparently had nothing to do all day but stand about in the streets, and shout in a dissatisfied manner.

The Inquiry Into What In The Ruddy Hell Sir Albert Southampton And The Others Have Got Up To Act

To quell the furor, the British Parliament in December 1909 passed the Inquiry Into What In The Ruddy Hell Sir Albert Southampton And The Others Have Got Up To Act, which established a committee to inquire into what in the ruddy Hell Sir Albert Southampton and the others had got up to.

The Palace of Westminster, pictured slightly smaller than actual size

Parliament, feeling rather satisfied with itself, promptly forgot about the whole business, and tended to its other affairs, until, on a bright but chilly day, Sir Southampton struck back. On the fourth of January, 1910, the Members of Parliament, intending to meet for the day's session, were struck dumb by the fact that their meeting place, the Palace of Westminster, had disappeared. In its place was a note, which read:

“ Until I am assured that the lot of you intend to keep your rather oily noses out of the affairs of His Majesty Edward VII's Secret Service, I shall be holding on to this building. Oh, and His Majesty's Secret Service doesn't exist.(Signed) A.S. ”

The shivering Members of Parliament, with a great deal of grumbling, stamping of feet, and warming of hands with hot breath, were forced to rescind the Inquiry Into What In The Ruddy Hell Sir Albert Southampton And The Others Have Got Up To Act, whilst gathered in the center of Parliament Square. Shortly after, the Palace was returned without comment. Since this time, the British Secret Service, as it came to be known, has operated with the tacit, if grudging, approval of the British government, and the utter obliviousness of the British people.

The Tea-House Affair

Could tell you all about it, old boy, but then I would have to have you liquidated.

Some of the only hard evidence of the existence of the British Secret Service is a conversation recorded surreptitiously in a tea-house in Bristol in 1985, between what were believed to be three officers of the BSS. A transcript of the recording follows:

Officer A: Dreadful what the bastards did to Pearson in Karachi. Officer B: I should say. They cut out his heart. Officer C: And his left eye. Officer A: And one of his lungs. Officer B: And cut off an arm Officer C: And a leg. Officer A: And his balls. Officer B: And pickled his liver. Officer C: And I believe one of them cracked open his skull and ate part of his brain? Officer A: Shocking, that. Officer B: Indeed. He's half the man he used to be. Officer C: At least he has his pension to fall back on. Officer A: Yes, well there's that. We should all be so lucky. Officer B: Hear, hear. Do pass the crumpets. Officer A: By-the-bye, have either of you noticed that shady-looking chap sitting in the corner, with the poorly-concealed recording device? Officer B: I should say. He's rather less clever than he thinks he is, isn't he? Officers A and C: Quite. Officer B: We shall have to do something about that. [abrupt thump. End of recording.]

This recording was only brought to light by three separate Acts (one by Parliament, and two by God himself), and the endeavours of a reporter, who soon thereafter not only ceased to exist, but also ceased to have existed previously. The British Secret Service, if it does, in fact, exist, has been approximately as mum on the whole affair as one would expect—that is to say, "entirely."

Activities of His or Her Majesty's Secret Service

Not much is known of the activities of the British Secret Service, as they are very good at their jobs. And hurrah for that. No one knows what they do, what their budget is, where they get it from, where they are headquartered, what sort of undergarments they prefer, or even who their head man is. It has recently been revealed that no one knows how to contact them—not even the Prime Minister. "No," said former Prime Tony Blair, in his very precise, yet somehow perpetually-flustered delivery, "...I have no idea how to get in touch with them. I always thought that the Prime Minister had a direct line to them, or perhaps a special bell that he rang. But that's not the case. No, the only times I needed them, they were there, shortly afterwards. And in one case," he added significantly, "they were somehow several minutes early."

How close-to-the-vest does the BSS play it, old chap? When informed by a reporter, via phone, that they did not even appear to have a logo, the BSS replied, "Don't be obtuse." Shortly afterwards, the reporter, the reporter's mobile phone, and, in fact, the entire newspaper for which the reporter worked, disappeared without a trace.

Training and Tactics

Three of the men in this picture are officers of the British Secret Service. Here's a hint: the man wearing the bowler hat is not one of them.

The training of officers in His or Her Majesty's (they're not telling which, so don't ask) Secret Service allows them to confront any circumstance head-on, with a ramrod-straight back and a placid expression. It is said that becoming an officer requires the mastery of such diverse skills as the Wearing of Tweed, Looking Down One's Nose, Keeping A Lid On It (not to be confused with Keeping Mum), Not Budging an Inch, and Eating a Crumpet With A Cogitative Expression Whilst Shooting You From A Moving Platform. Members of the British Secret Service are required to be a steadfast sort, who would to die at their posts rather than "have any of this nonsense."

As members of the BSS are well-versed in the use of camouflage and disguise, don't bother trying to find one. If, by some fluke of the Universe, you happen across one, it will likely go very poorly for you, as all officers of the BSS are also trained in the art of the Stern, Disapproving Stare, and the use of Curiously Strong Bullets.

Weapons and Kit

Weapons

the versatile Walther P99TA 9x19mm, shown here with flash suppressor, laser sight, fully-auto capability, 55-round magazine, integrated shotgun, grenade launcher, tear-gas cannon, netting launcher, and grappling hook.

Officers of the BSS are said to look down upon guns that go "pfft!" when fired (as depicted in movies), as "pfft!", in the real world, would be a dead giveaway. Officers, instead, are rumoured to utilise a specially-modified Walther P99TA 9x19mm 15-round semiautomatic which, when fired, makes the following sound:

“        ”

Equipment

The only equipment ever to be linked to the British Secret Services was a 2008 Bugatti Veyron modified to look like a 1972 Citroen SM. The car was briefly detained at the French-Belgian border, as the French were thoroughly suspicious to see a 1972 Citroen that could run for longer than 20 seconds. Unfortunately for the French, however, the car disappeared in a cloud of dust before they could lay hands on it.

Research and Development

The Research and Development arm of the British Secret Service is a robust, fully-staffed entity into its own, of which absolutely nothing is known. Military tech expert Michael Codner of the RUSI has this to say of the BSS's R&D division:

“ I can honestly say I don't know what in the blue blazes they're up to, but I also don't know what in the blue blazes they're not up to. It frankly would not surprise me if they had developed actual sharks with actual laser beams attached to their heads, just to see if it could be done. Why they'd want sharks with laser beams attached to their heads, I haven't the foggiest, of course. Honestly, it would be quite impressive if they managed it, I will admit that...but the why of it just thoroughly escapes me....I mean, what on Earth... ”

The Life of an Officer Of His Or Her (Ask Which It Is Again, And You Shall Regret It) Majesty's Secret Service

Officer Arthur Wise, late of His or Her Majesty's Secret Service. The East Germans attempted to crack Wise, but failed in the endeavour.

Officers of the Service are believed to be deployed worldwide. Although the life of a British officer is fraught with ever-present peril, and there is quite a bit of turn-over, there is a tight-knit camaraderie. Former British officer Ian Fleming, in his memoir, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, wrote of the capture of fellow agent Arthur Wise by the East German Stasi:

“ When I informed my superior officer of Wise's loss, he took it very hard.

"Ah," said he, sadly, "how'd it go for him?"

"Not well," I replied. "They fed him head-first through a boat screw."

"Was it on?"

"At the time? Yes, sir."

"Bloody unfortunate, that. Did they get anything out of him?"

"Only his spine and intestines, sir."

"Ah. Well, there's always a silver lining to every grey cloud. Say, do be a chap, and fetch me Collins, will you? He's due for Berlin in about half an hour. Tell him to pack his chain-mail girdle."

”

Fleming's memoir, of course, was received, not as a memoir, but, in fact, as a rather pleasant action thriller conceived by an entertaining, although second-rate, professional novelist. Once again, the BSS had done its job in the shadows.