_{The Avengers - " Let the Games commence !”}

_{Steed tosses his caber,}

_{While Emma has her Highland fling.}

_{The Autumn air was sharp and fresh as the vintage Bentley roared along the quiet country road, it's driver and passenger were seated comfortably, both stylishly and warmly attired for the season and the journey ahead.}

_{" I have to say Steed, that I'm somewhat mystified as to what exactly, this 'special sports day' is, that you're dragging me along to. Particularly at such short notice.... as usual ! After all, the tennis season has finished, there aren't any noteworthy racing events planned and you know only too well my feelings about football, so I can't think what's left ?” Emma pondered.}

_{"Why, the Highland Games, Mrs Peel ! That testosterone driven celebration of all things Celtic in nature. ”}

_{"The Highland Games ! You mean to say that you actually intend to drive ALL the way to Scotland just to impress me ?”}

_{"Not quite.” Steed replied sheepishly.}

_{"Which bit, the driving or wanting to impress me ?”}

_{"Why the driving, of course !” Steed defended himself – still on the lamb.}

_{"I see, well just how far do you intend to go with me, Steed ?”}

_{"Croydon !'”}

_{"CROYDON ! Are you sure you don't need a hand with that road atlas.... again ?” Emma teased. “ Since when did the Scottish 
' Olympics' transport itself down to the 'London scene' ?” she queried.}

_{"It's on temporary assignment to us, courtesy of some bureaucratic paper pusher in Whitehall, he thought it would be a good opportunity for a cultural exchange situation, a case of ' If they take the low road, and we take a high one, then we'll All be in kilts, b'fore ye... know it !' sort of thing.”}

_{"Hmmm, sorry, Steed, I didn't quite catch that last part, I was too distracted by the sound of Rabbie Burns, turning in his grave, ye ken !”}

_{Steed, masterfully handled his way down through the gears taking the Bentley into a dangerous hairpin curve, dropping them to the lowest point before skillfully pulling them back up to a climax, his foot pressing hard on the accelerator, he held the road tightly as he man-handled the powerful 3 litre engine effortlessly up the ensuing hill on the other side.}

_{Emma threw her head back, flicking unwelcome hair away from her face. “ I take it, Steed, that you have some ulterior motive in mind behind this obviously transparent gesture.”}

_{"Has anyone ever told you Mrs Peel, that you have a very cynical disposition ?” Steed glanced wryly across at his companion.}

_{"Constantly, but as far as YOU'RE concerned, I'm generally RIGHT !”}

_{"Well, there has been some uncorroborated intelligence that someone is passing sawed off cabers to our European cousins, along with inferior sausage meat intended for the Scotch egg market, and I believe there may even be illegal tampering of sporrans ! “ Steed confided.}

"SO, you're saying we're basically looking at a possible case of an inter-continental cabers, small changed sporrans and suspect Scotch eggs smuggling ring ! It's hardly sounds like a case for national security, Steed. Besides, hasn't the Scottish Tourist board been making a living out of those things themselves, for years !” she followed.

_{"Aye, ye ken, Mrs Peel. But, more insidiously than all of that, there have also been reports of fake tartan, to boot !” Steed frowned slightly at such a thought.}

_{"My, what a faux pair ! I mean you wouldn't be able tell you if you were dealing with a McGuffin or a MacGyver ! Still, it could be worse!”}

_{"How so ?” Steed queried.}

_{"Well, at least they haven't got their hands on the jock strap market, yet !"}

_{"It's no laughing matter, Mrs Peel ! This could destabilize the Scottish government leading to a possible clan uprising !”}

_{"So would an over abundant diet of wild oats and tall thistles !”}

_{"There are rumours that some of the contestants may well be using something to enhance their performance.” Steed plied.}

_{"What, drugs ! ” Emma turned her head to Steed in dismay.}

_{"NO, SURGICAL TRUSSES ! “}

_{" You know, I think I've changed my mind, Steed, football isn't all that bad, after all,” Emma proclaimed. Sinking deep back into her seat, she folded her arms across her chest, warily she studied Steed's facial features more closely, and observed a growing twinkle in his eyes, “ Wait a moment, you said this was a 'cultural exchange', but you never said what Scotland got out of this little deal ?”}

_{"You packed a LARGE suitcase, didn't you, Mrs Peel ?”}

_{Cue title sequence.}

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