Tennessee

As the old saying goes, boys go for looks, girls go for status. I flash my badge at the dolly behind the check-in desk, and bingo, I'm upgraded to first-class. It's the only way to fly. Champagne on boarding, spacious legroom, food and snacks all the way to America.

Later, as the stewardess delicately fondles my nuts, I stretch out in the full-reclining chair and ponder the perils that lie ahead. What nefarious activities does Jonny have planned for our trip the States? We have alerted the ground crew to his presence, and they have delayed the plane long enough to search the baggage hold for explosive materials. Apart from some dubious-looking pants, which may form the basis of a targeted chemical strike, Jonny B's luggage is clean.

I take another sip of champagne and regard my fellow passengers. Kirsty Allsopp is touching up her make-up in the seat to my right, whilst the entire cast of the Leningrad Cowboys are discussing their favourite tractors to my rear. I close my eyes and settle down for a few hours shut-eye, and before I know it we are touching down. I awake feeling refreshed, ready for the challenges before me.

Those good sorts at the FBI have layed on a top-of-the-range Hummer for us. This thing is so good it pretty much drives itself. I watch from my leather-clad nest as Jonny B enters his Kia Dinky Donk - a nondescript car if there ever was one. Thankfully, we have managed to delay him long enough at the car-hire desk to plant a microphone in the Kia, and we can hear every word he utters. We follow him at a safe distance, the sounds of a deeply discontented man ringing in our ears.