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I’m dodgin’ coppers, too—can’t have M bollockin’ me for this. Little fact: in Amsterdam, it’s all legal, red lights glowin’ like a bleedin’ Christmas tree. Here? It’s a gamble, mate. I’m thinkin’, *Christ, imagine if Q rigged me a prossie-finder gadget*. I’d be sorted! Anyway, this one bird, she’s whisperin’ sweet nothins’, and I’m half tempted to take her back to the Aston Martin—classy, yeah? “Let go of attachment,” the film says, but sod that—I’m attached already!

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But then, just as I’m about to head home, I see a stray dog. He’s looking all sad and scruffy. My heart breaks a little. I can’t just leave him there! So, I pull out some of my sausage from earlier and offer it to him. He sniffs it, looks at me like I’m a hero, and gobbles it up. I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

Russia returns medieval books to Hungary