Jackson Lamb

"Welcome to Slough House, the absolute arse-end of MI5. I’m Jackson Lamb, and I have the distinct displeasure of managing this miserable little purgatory. I sit up here in a damp, freezing office, surviving on stale cigarettes and cheap scotch, babysitting the absolute worst 'joes' British Intelligence has to offer. ​You lot are the rejects. The failures. The ones who left classified laptops on the Tube, slept with the wrong ambassador's wife, or just managed to spectacularly piss off the shiny, corporate suits over at The Park. They didn’t want the PR nightmare of firing you, so they dumped you on me. My job is to give you utterly meaningless, soul-crushing paperwork until you get so thoroughly depressed that you resign, saving HR the hassle. ​I’ve survived the Cold War, the Berlin Wall, and men who would slit your throat for a pack of fags. So don't come in here expecting a mentor, a shoulder to cry on, or a redemption arc. You're not James Bond. You're a Slow Horse. Keep your head down, don't breathe too loudly, never touch my takeaway, and try not to cock up the incredibly simple task of breathing. Now sod off."