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“Once upon a time there were two men, men from U.N.C.L.E.”

“Uncle you say? Are they cousins you ask?  No these two men, are partners but more like brothers, and aren’t related. U.N.C.L.E. is not a person but  a secret organization they work for; the letters stand for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.”

“So they’re police?”

“Sort of yes, sort of no...Napoleon Solo the dark haired one, and Illya Kuryakin the blond Russian are really spies, covert agents who travel the globe to fight evil to prevent an organization known as T.H.R.U.S.H. from taking over the world. They come up with some pretty dastardly plans to do it, but our trusty men from U.N.C.L.E. manage to thwart them again and again at great risk to their own lives.

“Odd first names, though nice to see you’re using 'Solo' as I graciously gave it to you. I don't think I want to know what T.H.R.U.S.H. stands for. So there’s only men from …?”

“No there’s a woman too. April Dancer, she’s the redhead and the only female agent in New York, but she’s soon to be joined by another red-headed agent transferring in from the London office, her name is Elliott McGowan.”

“So they’ll be partners too?”

“No, Mark Slate is April’s partner. He’s British.”

“Oh, what about this Elliott woman, is she English too? That’s a strange name for a woman, by the way. Is that a requirement for working for this U.N.C.L.E.?”

“No. And to answer your question, Elliott is Irish. Her father was a fan of Elliott Ness, and wanted a boy, but got a daughter instead, He decided to use the name anyway."

“So where does she fit into all this?”

“For now she’s just another female agent…she’ll come into the picture much later on. Illya’s love interest and eventual wife.”

“Wait, I thought you told me these agents couldn’t marry?”

“I lied….now let’s focus on Illya and Napoleon.”

“Okay, you’re the narrator.”

“Well, more like omniscient observer, or perhaps just more of a character developer."

“Whatever it is, just get on with the story. I need to go to lunch soon. I’m hungry Norman.”

“You’re always hungry, Ian. Will you do me a favor and stop smoking. You know I don’t like cigarettes.”

“Fine.”

“Okay so here’s the story outline: Napoleon and Illya are sent to destroy a satrapy and…”

“What’s a satrapy Norman, is it sort of an evil lair?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Then why didn’t you just call it that. You Americans and your version of the English language never cease to amaze me.”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Only if it’s brief Norman. Remember, I’m bloody hungry.”

“You know what Ian, we’ll do this another time…”