From a cobweb-shrouded gaggle of dronesome mapmakers, the Department has been transformed and enlarged into a network of spies, all answering directly to Mrs. Fletcher as they comb all of England's cities and countryside.

We have to get with the times or we'll be left behind.

The specs are all correct, but the English in the instructions isn't as clear as it should be.

Her squawk came out in two distinct syllables, rather like the way I had been syllabificating “Rooo-beee!”