Readers whose critical faculties are still undamaged by supermarket booze that is - praise be! - cheaper than mineral water may recall I received two dud CDs from a sweet young thing I'm cultivating at HM Revenue & Customs. When I couldn't find the Amy Wino tracks she'd been raving on about, I didn't give it too much thought. I was only humouring her, really: I'm more of a Tina Turner man . But once I'd got around to reading the most urgent highly confidential DRIP departmental briefs only three days later, everything sort of clicked into place. It was with dawning joy that I realised the daft bint had sent me disks containing oh, roughly 25 million names, addresses and bank account numbers in the internal mail. In a flash the old trader in me kicked in. I had been trying to get through to Bond, Andy Bond, for some weeks but frankly you can't get the bugger off the phone to the press or Fingleton these days ("tell you what, John, I'll grass up Tel if you let us off with a slapped wrist"). So it was time for a mission to the wastelands of Yorkshire and a huddle with the ginger supremo. Bond has been hinting about starting up a rival to Tesco's grubby Clubcard , but it takes far too long to ferret out the mountain of dodgy data the Cheshunt spooks have been working on for years. So what better than some HMRC data for a small consideration to get them started? It seemed like a good idea to me - not only to keep me and Lady Veronica in clover but also to pay for a new set of diamonds for the mistress. But Bond wasn't playing ball. Said it was immoral and besides, people might get suspicious if Asda suddenly sent out 25 million mailings all at once. Bugger booted me off without even a £30 bottle of Asda "vintage champagne". Rumour has it it was just Pomagne spiked with meths. The Asda buyers couldn't tell the difference in any case.