The Fanshaws of Doom

Well, the war on terror seems to be going quite well, doesn't it?
Our magnificent police and security services have called for, and will no doubt get, almost unlimited powers to arrest anyone they want, whenever they want and for no reason whatsoever. The offences of "looking at me in a funny way", "being Asian in a built-up area" and "having dark skin with intent to pervert the course of justice" will soon, no doubt, be on the statute books. Anyone caught carrying nail clippers, pile cream, Cillit Bang or a Curly Wurly on flights in and out of the country is already eligible for a free orange boiler suit and an extended holiday in Cuba at a specialist, American holiday "facility" and we are all soon to be fingerprinted, blood typed, retina-scanned, rectally scraped and forced to make up our spare rooms for our own, personal, live-in MI5 security operatives.
Yup, our super-efficient Feds are pulling out all the stops to ensure that Osama and the chaps are thwarted at every turn in their attempts to strike at the heart of the Western infidel. There is a ring of steel around these islands and it would take years of planning and the determined efforts of only the most ruthless, professional and committed terrorist to even dent our armour. Comforting, isn't it?
Sadly, the seemingly impenetrable wall of security was breached earlier this week. Not, as MI5 had feared, by suicide bombers intent on Jihad, not by Islamic fundamentalists trained in the wilds of Afghanistan and not by agents of a foreign power robotically programmed to undermine the apparatus of government. No, the notorious fanatics who pierced our titanium shield were......................Mr and Mrs Trevor Fanshaw of 67(a) The Laurels, Hounslow, Middlesex!
These cunning, devilish, suburban soldiers took a trip to see the Houses of Parliament because the Bridge Club meeting was cancelled and The Snettertons from 69 had told them about a nice little cafe nearby where you can get a decent clotted cream tea with fresh scones.
The pair were touring the hallowed halls of power when Trev's eye was caught by a statue of Pitt The Ridiculously Immature For The Job and so they lagged behind the massive security escort - and cunningly got lost.
So determined were this vicious couple that they pressed on undeterred and, under the cloak of full daylight, proceeded to wander about at will, greeting SWAT team security guards en-route with a cheery "Morning!!" After popping in for coffee with an elite guard of SAS warriors who were busy watching Trisha, they found themselves in the Cabinet Office. There was one scary moment when the Queen's Own Light Infantry surrounded them near a mineral water vending machine and screamed "Halt! Who goes there?" The crisis passed, though, when they managed to recite the secret pass code, which was "Ooh! I'm awfully sorry. We're lost, you see. Do you know how we get out of here?" The armed-to-the-teeth soldiers were appeased and barked back "Pass, We're Awfully Sorry" and the Fanshaws continued on their mission.
Trev and the trouble and strife eventually ended up in the street immediately behind No. 10 and were only thwarted when they peered in through a back window to ask "Excuse me. Can we just use your loo?" Tony and Cherie, who were playing make-up in the dining room at the time, raised the alarm and the Fanshaws were arrested and led away. Phew! That was a close one!
An expert team of forensics officers were today said to be examining terrorist paraphernalia found on the couple. Leaked reports indicate that it included a tartan-coloured tube with a cap which contained a tea-coloured liquid, a clingfilm-wrapped package which early results have revealed contained cheese and pickle, two of Al Qaeda's weapons of choice, and a smaller pack of brown, disc-shaped objects which it was feared could be some sort of degenerative biochemical substance as it was labelled "Digestives".
If you haven't got it yet, our fine security services can go to Grantham!