No fire without smoke

So I am down in Little Ealing print-franchise talking to Signor Rennard about how we eliminate local competition. Franchise is cleverly hidden in abandoned warehouse in old industrial estate surrounded by defensive moat where live some pretty aggressive ducks who act as early warning mechanism in case of intruders.

The new local Capo Signor Nigel "Killer" Bakhai is currently feeding them local spicy bread which make them quack a lot and bite Signor Davey who is attempting to talk to him about security.

"So Liberali" say Signor Rennard "We have a cunning and brilliant plan to eliminate the Conservatori playboy."

"That great Signor Rennard, what is plan?"

"Tomorrow he believes he is having a meeting with agent for famous Bollywood producer. Only this is no agent, or at least not one of the type he is expecting."

At that moment I swear I see Signor Hitchens of our cultural-relations magazine business walk past with shoe-polish, some of which appear to be applied to face not shoes. He funny fellow.

"The agent will lure him to a meeting at a cafe near the Broadway. At the moment he sits down an enormous quantity of leaflets will be dropped on him from great height, ensuring his swift and gruesome demise."

"That sure is brilliant plan Signor Rennard", I say, "Only is it not same plan we use in Hartypool, Brummy Town and Bromchester? Might they not anticipate this move?"

A funny look enter Signor Rennard eyes, I get strange feeling he visualising large quantity of leaflets over my head. He make me nervous so I fumble for my cigarillos and light up.

"Liberali are you perchance smoking inside a building containing 100,000 newspapers soaked in highly flammable orange ink, against the express wishes of Don Campbell's print-shop smoking policy?" he say calmly.

"Perhaps you better go and finish it outside with the ducks."

I begin to think this great idea and besides Capo Davey look in sore need of smoke.