Well, I'm slowly - when I have time, that is - turning this blog into a kind of autobiographical novel. So this is the first chapter below. Let me know what you think or if it really offends you, turns you on or whatever.

The passing of a true Global Cult ought to be dramatic, memorable, world-shaking. There ought to be mass suicides, heaps of gunfire, the Headquarters set alight, explosions in slow motion and all the rest of it. A Real Cult should go out in a blaze of blood and glory.

But no such thing happened with Nowhere Children Inc. Godfrey did not go out with his weapons of mass destruction (or WMD as I would have would put it) firing, intent on taking as many FBI agents with him as possible. Nor did he place a Walther PPK pistol to his temple as enemy tanks rolled towards his underground bunker. Instead, he sat quietly and contentedly enjoying one of Charles Rochester’s favourite cigars in his study while awaiting a hurricane at home. A bit of an anti-climax, you might say.

Luckily for the more bloodthirsty readers, I wrote this final Company report before setting off on my backpacking holiday in Thailand.

I was awoken just after 4am, about an hour before dawn, by the unmistakable sound of automatic weapon fire. I sprang naked out of bed, as lithe and quick at a jungle cat. I crouched by the window but could see nothing.

I wasted no more time. Six and a half seconds latter, I was running downstairs, barefoot with a Glock 17 pistol in my hand.

The odds were stacked high against me but I was not worried. I was SAFA – and I was armed with my weapon of choice. A Glock Model 17 is the only model in the Glock range designed to take amphibious spring cups. These spring cups allow the pistol to be fired underwater and are not standard issue. Luckily, my replica Glock 17 had been marinized and I was ready for just about anything that might come my way. Even if they decided to attack from the depths of the swimming pool, I could still take them out.

“Let them come!” I thought as I burst out of the front door and went into a rolling dive. Even as I was rolling, my mind was clicking like a computer. They would need a diversion… probably at the gates. The real attack would be most likely come from the woods. There would know what they were up against this time. They would know that I was here, they would know my background, my training… and…

And, and…what? I paused at my laptop and then clicked on the save tab of his word document. I realised suddenly that all that was finished now. That part of my life was over. I was no longer in a Cult. I was no longer SAFA. I closed the lip of my laptop. I was free!

I got up and went over to the old green Army rucksack leaning against the wardrobe. I had bought it from a government surplus store two days ago. It was already stuffed to bursting point with clothes for the tropics, mosquito repellent, emergency rations, medicines, first aid kit, sun cream, camera, hand-powered torch and all sorts of stuff.

I bent down and rummaged in the front pocket. Had I packed condoms? Yes, I had. Backpacking through south-east Asia was going to be the adventure of a lifetime…and the soldier in me wanted to be as prepared as possible.