Claudia arrived in a hotel minibus with Bart, rooms found for them, and Claudia would be next door to me. I handed Bart the modified script, for him to study it after he had rested.

  Terry and Thomas, my documentary makers, arrived in a hire car, luggage in the back, no cameras to hand. I showed them around the various sets.

  Rolf arrived in a hotel minibus with the twins and Olesya, and I helped with the luggage after big hugs for the girls. The twins were in with me, Olesya next door, through the adjoining door, and Claudia came in when she heard the noise.

  The twins had seen the beds advert and laughed when they described it to Claudia, and they had a copy on tape. Claudia had not seen it yet.

  I made everyone drinks as Rolf came in, and I updated them on what we had done so far, and who was here. ‘We have enough actors to make a start tomorrow. My evil twins from Leicester get here next week, Eva is here this week, Jenny Patrick is here in two weeks.’

  Rolf told me, ‘We have been paid by the bed shop.’

  ‘Good. I have a deal with British shop Marks and Spencers, where I get my cheap suits.’

  I pointed at Olesya. ‘You need to learn how to do everything in the café, Michelle has already started, meet with Michelle soon. Tomorrow we can do your BOLS sketch.’

  The twins laughed, as did Rolf.

  Olesya gave me her puppy dog look. ‘I read it, but … I don’t understand why it’s funny.’

  I shook my head as the twins laughed, soon explaining it. Olesya now understood, and could not stop giggling. That just left Claudia looking puzzled.

  I led them all to the hotel restaurant, the place already quite busy, and we sat to eat with Jacqueline and the old James Bond bad guys. The James Bond bad guy we had met in Tenerife would be here next week for a few days.

  When the Director and Producer came in I waved them over. They sat next to us. I told them, ‘First shoot, tomorrow, in the village. As I drive past, a man lowers his newspaper, an extra I singled out. But as he walks off he’s being watched by a man across the street.

  ‘As that man walks off, another man is watching him from a window, and that man is being watched from a window across the street, and he is being watched by the twins high up, and so on…’

  They smiled widely.

  ‘Everyone is watching everyone,’ the Director noted. ‘Easy to shoot.’

  ‘As you do that, I’ll go find a train station and shoot picking up Jacqueline, then arriving at her house. Get me a small crew.’

  ‘We have four cameras,’ the Director told me.

  There was soon something of a party atmosphere, people being introduced, old acquaintances chatting and making jokes, and we moved to the bar afterwards.

  With the Director I discussed crew meal times and sleep times, and he was happy, this was a holiday compared to some of the films they had worked on.

  That night, it was Olesya’s turn somehow, and I still had no idea how they kept a record of whose turn it was. But I was not annoyed, Olesya was kind of my favourite, soft and delicate and beautiful, always radiant and happy.

  In her room, we showered, washing each other as we spoke about her recent modelling assignments. On the bed, I licked the tiny pink line of a pussy for what I judged was two minutes, but she arched her back and gasped, always a quick finisher.

  Moving up, I eased my cock inside to a louder gasp, and it sounded as if she was having a heart attack. I lay there for a while, on my elbows as she wrapped her legs around me, her eyes closed, her pussy muscles twitching.

  When she had recovered some I started to thrust slowly, Olesya breathing hard, and she came again, just before I did, my girl red in the face and puffing.

  My release was enjoyable, and not forced, and I always enjoyed my time with Olesya.

  Rolling off a minute later, I pulled her over, her head on my chest as I caught my breath, my fingers run through her hair, and she was out for the count quickly.

  Lights, camera, action…

  At 9am I set off with Jacqueline, a tail car with the film crew in, and we found the small local train station, soon set-up. We waited for a train to arrive, and we filmed it slowing down.

  Jacqueline walked out with her suitcase, I put it in the boot, and we got in the car after I had checked the area. Three takes, not least because of a dog barking.

  ‘You know, flying would be quicker,’ I tell her as we drive off.

  ‘I hate flying, and the train relaxes me, time to read.’

  Two takes, and we drive off. At the nominated house, a huge mansion with a pool, the crew got out and set-up as the owners came out and said hello to us, delighted to meet Jacqueline.

  Three takes of us pulling up and getting out, and it’s a wrap. Inside, we got to see the house for the first time, and I had a think about where we would shoot as the crew took a few outside shots, including footage of a strutting Peacock on the lawns.

  The camera footage would now go to Editing, and it would be added to what I had already shot, the arrival of Jacqueline.

  Back at the hotel, and I organised the actors and crew for a dry run, the BOLS sketch. After many false starts, and many interruptions from the actors and crew laughing, we finally just about had it.

  Olesya, barmaid, accidentally kicked a bottle of BOLS on a low shelf, quietly smashing it. Above it sat a row of Smirnov bottles, part of our advertising deal with them.

  ‘Why you always busting my BOLS?’ the fat old café manager asks, customers now listening in.

  ‘Yeah, why you always busting his BOLS?’ I quip, getting a look from Olesya.

  ‘It was an accident. And why you have your BOLS so low, why can’t you put your BOLS higher up, not around your ankles! I tell you before, better to have you BOLS up more.’

  ‘That seems like a good idea,’ I agree. ‘To have your BOLS higher up. Have you considered a protective guard rail?’

  ‘If I protect my BOLS I can’t get at them. I need to get to my BOLS.’ He faces Olesya. ‘You must pay for my BOLS, twenty Euro.’

  ‘Your BOLS is only ten Euro!’ she protests.

  ‘Are you inflating your BOLS?’ I ask, getting a look from the café manager.

  ‘My BOLS is popular, they are worth twenty Euro,’ he protests.

  ‘I’ll give you twenty Euro for your BOLS,’ I offered, and I hand over the money. He hands me a bottle of BOLS, the café customers letting out a sigh of ‘Ahhhhh.’

  The mongoloid kids start chanting, ‘Balls, balls, balls…’ the teacher trying to shush them down and embarrassed.

  With Olesya ready, and with six different shirts for me, extras to swap seats, we start to shoot.

  ‘Black tea latte, no milk,’ I tell Olesya. She puzzles the list of drinks and asks the owner.

  ‘A Happy Crappy Potacino please.’ Olesya puzzles the list and asks the irate boss.

  ‘Beer please, no ice.’ Olesya smiles, stops and puzzles that, and pours me a beer.

  ‘Carmel latte, please, I’m diabetic.’

  ‘Frapamachino, please.’ Olesya puts a finger on the drinks list and works down it with a frown.

  ‘A Small Grande Mohican please.’

  She hands me a coffee in a Starbucks style paper cup, then turns it to face me. It says “Fuck you’” in black felt.

  I glance at, hide my grin, and walk off. In the car, I hand it to Jacqueline, who read the words.

  ‘You upset the cute waitress again, didn’t you…’

  ‘What the hell is a Frapacino anyhow?’

  Progress was being made, scenes shot, minutes of the film sliced off.

  That night, I massaged both twins’ pussies at the same time, a short ten minutes till they gasped and slumped, Frieda always finishing first. But I always adjusted my technique so that Rita got a little extra clit work, to time it right.

  Cock into Rita as a bonus for her, and I made her scream before I finished.

  The next day on set, and Claudia is up but nervous. The hotel’s admin offices now have suitable police posters put up, and an extra becomes her father, the local head of Brussels Interpol. Claudia enters, and nudges his in-tray to the floor.

  ‘Leave it,’ he urges as she tries to pick it up.

  ‘Commander, I found our jewel thief, I’m sure of it.’ She hands over photos of Jacqueline.

  ‘A woman?’

  ‘A pussy burglar.’

  ‘A … what?’

  ‘A pussy burglar.’

  ‘You mean … a cat burglar?’

  ‘That was what I said. She’s in the south of France, and we can arrest her -’

  He holds up a hand. ‘We need evidence, you know, due process.’

  ‘I can link her to each location where the jewels were stolen, and camera footage at the train stations.’

  ‘Train stations?’

  ‘She doesn’t fly, a good trick, because we look at the airports.’

  The Commander finally agrees, just to get rid of her.

  ‘Thanks, Papa.’

  On the way out she knocks down his coffee maker, the man about to suffer a migraine, tablets swallowed as he takes out a bottle of Smirnov.

  Dave Maurice had arrived, and after a shower I had him pressed into service straight away. The old fat café owner, now with a fake moustache and glasses, sits on a bench on a grass slope reading a newspaper.

  Dave sits down next to him. ‘She is heading for the south of France, Commissioner. She thinks she has found the famous jewel thief, a woman.’

  ‘A woman? What a foolish idea. Follow her down there, and get me enough evidence to have her fired. And don’t fail me, Maurice.’

  ‘Right, boss.’ Dave walks off.

  ‘Cut! Good.’

  The twins had been filmed in a window, our two old bad guys as well, a few extras, and we now had an opening scene where ten people are all watching each other.

  Eva had arrived late, so we booked the horses for the next morning. In the morning, at 6am, Eva spent an hour getting to know a horse, hand feeding it, a bond created - so she reported later.

  When ready, she stripped naked, mounted the horse, and she halted where a mud track crossed the tarmac road. I pulled up in the Mercedes with Jacqueline, and I waved her across.

  ‘What a magnificent beast,’ I note.

  ‘A thoroughbred,’ Jacqueline notes. ‘But she’s not racing at the moment, a little heavy in the rear.’

  Horse passing us, we drive on, Eva filmed riding off slowly, the boobs on display.

  Language problems…

  Down at the coast, at our nominated three-star hotel, Claudia is filmed arriving in a taxi. She hands over a fake ID.

  ‘Angela Sphincter?’ the receptionist puzzles.

  ‘From Germany.’

  He pulls a face and signs her in.

  Change of clothes, different receptionist, new angle, and she signs in.

  ‘Hymen … Labia?’

  ‘From Amsterdam.’

  Hotel next door, change of clothes, and Claudia signs in.

  ‘Joahna Whales Herringson?’

  ‘From Denmark.’

  Different angle, lady receptionist.

  ‘Claudia Anusol?’

  ‘From Belgium.’

  It’s a wrap, and we have all we need, our straight man Dave Maurice up, filmed booking into a similar hotel.

  My turn next, and I’m filmed going down the hotel register with a finger, the receptionists all known to me and cash handed over.

  My finger stops at Angela Sphincter. ‘This woman?’

  ‘Tall, beautiful, big boobs. You won’t miss her.’

  Next door, and my finger stops as Claudia Anusol. ‘This woman?’

  ‘Tall, beautiful, big boobs. Men all stop and stare.’

  ‘Which … does not sounds like an investigator, or police,’ I puzzle. ‘But I think she’ll be a pain in the arse.’

  ‘Cut. Good!’

  The next day, and now getting into a routine – Michelle always on hand with her clipboard, we filmed myself and Jacqueline driving past the café, Claudia sat observing us – a glance at a black and white photo of Jacqueline, Dave being filmed sat observing Claudia, a bottle of Smirnov on his table.

  The twins are filmed sat observing Jacqueline coming out of a shop.

  I’m filmed meeting in secret with an extra.

  The extra tells me, ‘There are two men in the village, looking for someone.’

  I hand him fifty Euro. ‘Earn your pay, have a good look each day. And … have you seen a tall girl, beautiful, big boobs?’

  ‘In the village? No, I would remember.’

  ‘I want you to sit and have a coffee in every café in a ten mile radius, something is up.’

  The first fight scene is due, and the twins practise with the first old James Bond bad guy for twenty minutes.

  ‘Ready!’

  Jacqueline lifts up from a seat outside the café, and she slowly walks off. The twins observe her as our bad guy follows Jacqueline. The twins cut him off and block his path, then – lifting skirts – they shock him before kicking him ten times, sound effects to be added later.

  The arse cheeks are filmed separately several times, and we go three times, the twins accidentally making contact a few times, but lightly – then apologising and hugging the actor.

  ‘No, no, no!’ I call. ‘You’re ruthless killers, don’t hug him, smash his bloody face in!’

  The crew laughed loudly, the twins very apologetic to our hardened stunt man.

  At the café, Dave Maurice is filmed puzzling the action, and the action is being seen by my shocked local contact.

  Henk and Olafson

  The next day was Henk and Olafson day, the Director and Producer laughing at the blatant advertising.

  Following the second bad guy down the street, the twins notice the sign in the shop: “Henk and Olafson dresses, half price”. They dart into the shop and check that the dresses are real, ignoring the bad guy that they had been following.

  ‘Why so cheap?’ they demand.

  The middle-aged male shopkeeper replies, ‘My wife, she wants to sell good quality dresses, but here is not many people, so we move to the city next week.’

  The twins grab dresses.

  Claudia is up, following Jacqueline past the shop, then noticing the shop sign and rushing in, the same questions as she examines the dresses.

  Jacqueline is up, and she screams for me to stop the car and jumps out as I panic. Jacqueline rushes inside and examines the dresses, the same question to the man.

  I follow her in, finally asking the man, ‘Why have a shop here, not in Nice or Marseilles?’

  ‘My wife, she likes it here, away from the city she said.’ He gives a big Gallic shrug.

  A day filming, and we’ve made fifty grand from Henk and Olafson towards the production cost of the movie.

  Bonza and his brother turned up on Saturday, with Trish, and Trish was soon hard at work with Michelle, checking on our actors and extras – any complaints or issues.

  The brothers were told to limber up straight away, and we dry-ran them fighting the twins in what would become an iconic scene for the people of Britain in general and the people of Leicester in particular.

  ‘Ready! Quiet! Extras sit and look.’

  The twins block the path of the brothers near the entrance to the café as the brothers try to leave. ‘Boys, this is our job, so why don’t you go back to … that place in England.’

  Bonza adopts a coarse accent. ‘Leicester. And we’re the Evil Twins from Leicester, and we say where we go, and this is our job.’

  ‘How you spelling that?’ Rita askes.

  They puzzled the request. ‘E – V – I…’

  ‘No, stupid. Leicester.’

  ‘Oh. L – E -’

  ‘I,’ the brother puts in, and they struggle to spell Leicester.

  ‘So it’s Lee-eye-kester then,’ Rita notes.

  ‘No, us British say Lester.’

  ‘Lee-eye-kester,’ Frieda repeats.

  ‘It’s Leicester,’ Bonza insists, slamming a fist into the palm of his hand.

  ‘Boys, we don’t need to be fighting each other, we can help each other.’ The twins lift skirts, people sat nearby in the café shocked, Dave Maurice sat looking shocked, and pleased, the two old Jewish guys shocked.

  The brothers stare down, wide eyed, just as the twins kick them, the brothers’ balls whacked after faces are kicked, and the brothers are left in a heap as the twins lower dresses and walk out.

  Three takes, and we’re happy.

  Bart turned to me. ‘The people in your home town will latch onto that scene. Some criticism perhaps, but the schoolboys will be recalling that scene for years to come.’

  I nodded. ‘It will make the local gossip, yes.’

  Documentary maker Terry shook his head at me as he smiled widely, off for a coffee.

  The saddlebag sketch

  The next day, and Claudia is up, the saddlebag sketch, Terry unable to keep a straight face, half the crew not understanding the joke, Jacqueline in stitches and sent off set like a naughty schoolgirl.

  Scene One, Claudia at the stables, Eva assisting her, a problem with her saddlebag flaps sticking into the horse. Eva had rode in naked and climbed down, shocking Claudia. We got a good ten seconds of Eva’s arse cheeks and boobs.

  Scene Two, Claudia is in the café later as Eva loudly asks if Claudia is still having trouble with her saddlebag flaps. Too many extras laughing, so we go three times.

  I shout with a grin, ‘Try and be professionals, eh, you lousy bunch of amateurs!’

  Ready again, and Claudia loudly responds to Eva, “I got a cream for my saddlebag flaps, good stuff, very strong, they’re much better now, softer, they don’t stick out so much. It’s a special cream, for tough horse leather.”

  Claudia is left dumbfounded as the extras all roll about laughing, eyes being wiped, a few having fallen off their chairs, the two old Jewish guys wiping their eyes.

  ‘Cut! Take five!’

  ‘I don’t understand what’s so funny,’ Claudia tells me, hands on her hips.

  ‘Just be a professional, unlike this lot. Stick to the lines.’ I turn my head. ‘Rolf, come explain the joke to Claudia.’

  He scampered away quickly with the twins.