JONES: Thanks you for seeing me, minister.
MINISTER: Not at all, Mr Jones. What seems to be the problem?
JONES: Well, not to put too fine a point on it, it's the delivery I received this morning.
MINISTER: Oh, yes: Parcel X.
JONES: Quite. You see, I'm just thinking that we may not be the ideal place to store it.
MINSTER: It's really very small. I'm sure there's a handy nook somewhere in your vast edifice. So, if that's all Mr Jones, perhaps -
JONES: No. You see, it's not really the space, I'm just wondering whether the storage would be better served by some sort of laboratory facility.
MINISTER: Ah! But, that's exactly what the enemy would expect. No, if we're going to hide this from the Nazis, we have to think faster than they do. And that's why we want you to retain this particular testicle.
JONES: In the Albert Hall?
MINISTER: In the Albert Hall, yes. After all, it doesn't need to be centre stage, just slip it away somewhere. Look, here's a padded envelope, does that help?
JONES: Fine, thank you, very kind, but, I still don't understand why you want us to hide Adolf Hitler's, err, attachment.
MINISTER: It's a stratagem that has served Britain well for centuries, man! Ever since we snuck Philip of Spain's toenails into the Globe at Southwark. Do you know, in this nation's long and glorious history, we've stashed Napoleon's appendix in the atrium of the Ashmolean, and secreted Piet Cronje's baby teeth in row F of the Wigmore. Oh yes, this method of slipping an enemy's body parts into a cultural nexus has won us a ton of wars - hey, you'll never guess where we hid Kamal Ataturk's tonsils in 1916.
JONES: No idea.
MINISTER: The National.
JONES: Gallery or Theatre?
MINISTER: Both! They're still there, the bugger never got close to finding them.
JONES: Right...wasn't he on our side?
MINISTER: Well, strictly, yes, but once we'd got hold of them we thought it was best to go ahead. And, I mean, he was foreign, so fair game.
JONES: I see. And, despite this celebrated tradition, what will be the actual value of hiding Hitler's plum?
MINISTER: Aha! When he notices it's gone-
JONES: I suspect he has already.
MINISTER: Maybe, maybe not - but when he does, it'll really, really annoy him.
JONES: And that's good, is it?
MINISTER: Oh, yes! We want an angry enemy. Makes it a good, honest fight.
JONES: Sure, but, I was just wondering, we're not actually at war with Germany, are we? I mean, that militirisation of the Rhineland thing isn't great, but I was hopeful that we'd all get through it.
MINISTER: Rubbish! There's bound to be a war.
JONES: There is now you've surgically emptied his scrotum.
MINISTER: Yes, well, don't worry about that: I started a rumour that it was the Poles. No, I'll not hear any more arguments, you're going to squirrel this love nut away in the Albert Hall, or I'll have you up for treason.
JONES: Any suggestion of precisely where? Because the public do come in the hall quite a lot.
MINISTER: Oh, I don't know. Make a hole. In fact, make lots of holes, to put people off the scent. Find it out, what's the largest number of holes we could possibly make in the Albert Hall?
JONES: Actually, I've had someone look into that already. Chap from Blackburn...