The Red Cow and the Pint of Tiger

It's horrible. The mental challenge of maintaining my cover and still trying to infiltrate the Russian underground in England is quite stressful. It's a game of patience and precision. Any false move could risk disaster. Lives are at stake, and I can't help but feel that overbearing responsibility with every pint I'm forced to drink.

I am going by the name Boris Grebenshikov. I'm a beer drinking lad from Leningrad who loves the Eurythmics. It's too bad you can not hear my Russian accent, because it is dead on.

I think the bartender should be able to get me into the back room. He says his name is Jon, but he is definitely an Igor or something.

If the fate of the world relies on my drinking here all week. So be it. I'm that kind of penguin.

Yup. It's the Russians

We're at the Russians hideout. A place called the Red Cow. They are a clever lot. The Coopers and I are going in. There will most likely be trouble. The Coopers may not make out. I expect my spy training will kick in, so I will be fine.

Cheers!

Lefty Cooper

My contacts are taking me on a top secret mission. This is Mr. Cooper and I discussing the details. It has something to do with a red cow. I think that's code for the Russians.

Cooper

So I'm hanging out wondering what the heck a jacket is, if you don't wear it, and this tiny spy car pulls up. This dashing looking gentleman gets out and says to me something in "English" because I couldn't understand a word of it. The more I looked at the car I knew this must be my contact. I leaped on to the windshield. There was someone inside and I scared her. You would think a spy would be better prepared for a penguin leaping out of no where. I told her "I am an international killing machine penguin spy. You are supposed to take me somewhere." That made her more scared. When her partner came back they discussed it and we have been driving ever since. I'll post more when I find out what my mission is.

Posting a Letter

I have been drawn to this red post box. It could be my subconscious international spy training that lead me here. Or, it could be that I smelled hot soup and I wanted to look in the window of Riley's without being on a rubbish can.

In any event, I'm going to hang out for a bit in case I'm supposed to meet a super-model English contact here. I hope my mission involves Hot chicks and Hot food.

London Bound

So, I must have hit the toast pretty hard because when I woke up today, I found that I'm fly business class to England.

Some how I made a lay over in Chicago, and now I am on my way to Heathrow. I spoke to the stewardess, she says I was going on and on about meeting the "Queen", and I was her cousin or something. Now this sounds nothing like me and I am sure there is a perfectly good reason I would go to London. Maybe it like those Jason Bourne movies and I am an international killing machine spy? That would make a heck of a lot more sense. Let's go with that one.

Getting Toasted

Keani and I have had our last fight. I'm serious, I'm done with her. Chicks don't get me I guess. She said my feet are as cold as my heart. I says "I'm a penguin baby!" Then she punched me in the flipper real hard, smashed a banana in my face, and left.

I decided go out and get toasted.

Mmmmmmm, toast with a side of rock. If you can't have true love, you can always truly love toast. I should write that down somewhere.

I need a GPS

I have just figured out that I get lost a lot. Here is a picture of me trying to find a Radio Shack. I need a GPS or something. Maybe a compass would be a good start. I found a map on the back of my Pirates of the Caribbean cereal, but it only led to some island called "A great tasting start to your day!" I thinks it's Latin.