This is the lovely Valerie Plame Wilson, the CIA agent "outed" by various and sundry members of the Bush administration in retaliation for the fact that her husband gave lie to Bush's claim (and justification for war) that Saddam Hussein had tried to buy yellowcake from Niger.

Here she is again, with some anonymous guy. (OK, its her husband.) If you ask me, she's totally Grrr! But more to the point, if I saw her at a party, across a crowded room, in that sexy white dress, this is what I'd be thinking: "Yo. who's Mata Hari over there?" See, in the intricate pathways of my mind, this is exactly how I expect spies to look (I mean, the girl ones.)

I'd tell her anything she wanted to know. If she took my hands in hers and asked desperately, I'd use my cell phone to take pictures of confidential documents. I'd tango her out of danger in a crowded room, no questions asked.

She's a tasty little morsel of spyness, is what I'm saying.

But I wonder how big a secret it could have been that she was a spy, because as I say, when I dream about spies, they look just like this. And also, I'm tied to a chair.