Midge Mod – The Beauty and The Beast

Midge’s deadly beauty is in her genes, the only daughter of Swedish parents whose blood line can be traced back directly to the Viking rulers Eric the Great and Sigrid the Haughty. As a young girl studying in Norway she was swept up in the Nazi invasion of 1940 and soon found herself forced into service in the notorious Joy Division. Within weeks Nazi officers were turning up dead in alarming numbers and she had disappeared into the shadowy world of the Norwegian Resistance. It was there she received the nickname “Mektig Mygg”, an apt description for a 90 pound girl capable of killing trained SS officers with little more than a hair pin and a silk scarf.

At the end of the war it was her friend Max Manus who introduced her to British military intelligence officers recruiting agents for a top secret organization engaged in the emerging and dangerous world of cold war espionage. There she achieved the rank of 36-24-36 in a rating system used to indicate an agent’s skill levels in 3 key areas; deception, discipline, and deadly force. After a decade working in top secret field missions she grew to distrust the cold war politik of her masters, and tired of watching men of lesser skill climb the ranks of MI-6. This came to a head in 1962 when a particular agent with the pathetic ranking of 0-0-7 was deemed by her bosses to be better equipped than her to thwart an evil madman bent on disrupting an American space launch. (To add insult to injury she got screwed out of a much-needed Jamaican vacation in the process).

It took her 3 more years to extract herself from the entanglements of “Her Majesty’s Secret Service”, but finally in the summer of 1965 she burst from the dark cloak and dagger corridors of Whitehall into the paisley and pastel of swinging London’s Carnaby Street. The transformation from “Mektig Mygg” to “Midge Mod” was the emergence of the monarch from the chrysalis. Her stunning beauty, regal grace and inscrutable inner power was immediately noticed and she was soon courted by every fashion house in London. This was a time of great joy for Midge, a coming of age that she had been robbed of for so many years – first by the dogs of war, then by the call of duty. She was now finally free at time when freedom was being redefined and the only masters to be served were experience and pleasure.

Through the remainder of the 60’s she was the toast of the town, both modeling and designing for Carnaby’s hippest shops; Kleptomania, I Was Lord Kitchener’s Valet, Mates, Ravel and others, but as the 60’s gave way to the 70’s she found herself once again feeling out of step with her peers. The beauty, energy and creativity of the mid 60’s had given way to the squalor, addiction and inertia of the needle and the squat.

Midge disappeared from the scene in 1971 and there is a dark period where no one is sure how she occupied herself. There are rumors she did a stint in the Symbionese Liberation Army as minister responsible for Special Weapons and Tams. She was spotted in South America where several aging German immigrants were found garroted with silk paisley ties. We do know that she picked up her love of fine cigars and a good stiff Cuba Libre during this time from her notorious trysts with a certain Caribbean general.

In the spring of 1977 she was personally asked to return to London by Queen Elizabeth to be head of security for the silver jubilee celebrations. In 1949 Mygg had saved the then princess from an assassination attempt and they had bonded as two powerful young women restrained by the social mores and obligations of their positions. As part of her silver jubilee duties Midge was sent to assess the threat that might be posed by a group of young “punks” (or “yobs” as her majesty referred to them) who were planning to release their song “God Save the Queen” to mock and undermine her majesty on her special day. (Midge was a bit more concerned by the punk’s use of swastikas as a fashion accessory then of any insult that might be thrown HRM’s way, but upon closer inspection found little that could be construed as a real threat. The band was more armchair anarchist performance art than armed resistance. )

Her visit to London’s punk underground brought her back in touch with her old friend Vivienne Westwood. She bowed out of her duties for Queen Liz and took up with Vivienne and Malcom McLaren designing clothes for their Kings Road clothing store “SEX”. She spent the next few years touring Europe with punk bands (who were under constant threat of arrest and violence) as body guard and “fixer”. When time would allow she would also model the emerging punk looks on the runways of Milan and Paris. She taught John Lydon how to sew up your own stab wounds, and trained Sid Vicious how to take a punch in the face and still make it through a show while down a few pints of blood. (During this period she also introduced Sid to Nancy Spungeon – still one of her greatest regrets).

When the 80s arrived and the austere gestalt beauty of spiked hair and black leather gave way to big hair and baggy sweaters she vowed to leave fashion forever. She had spent almost 40 years dressed to impress, or dressed to kill, and now it was time for a quieter life. She “retired” to a position as head of security for the Casino de Monte-Carlo. It seems an odd choice for someone of her immense talent and experience until you consider that on at least three occasions she had the distinct pleasure of removing a certain “Mr. Bond” from the premises for failure to pay his tab and for drunk and disorderly conduct (once depositing him head first in the casino’s famous fountain in front of as many visiting dignitaries and paparazzi as she could gather on short notice).

At this point you may be wondering how a woman, now age 90, still appears as youthful and strong as the young assassin who put the bullet in Hitler’s brain on April 30, 1945? Well…there are many theories. Some believe it is her lineage – the strength of her genes inherited from Norse Kings and Queens. Some say it is simply the result of her ultra-disciplined regimen of diet, exercise and the daily application of a proper moisturizer. But there are darker rumors. Some say she was exposed to Nazi occult rituals that she not only survived, but was also able to master and bend to her will. And then there are those who believe that her daily imbibing of something she refers to as “kraftfull-saft” (literally “powerful juice”) is not a blend of fruit, kelp and protein powder, but rather a mixture of stem cells, virgin’s blood, and Santiago de Cuba Extra Añejo rum. Well let’s just say she’s not talking and we’re not asking – but we one thing we can tell you for sure – you’ll never see a photo-shopped image of Midge. You just can’t improve on perfection.

But back to our story…now where were we…oh yes, tossing Mr. Bond in the fountain at the Casino de Monte-Carlo. You see “007” wasn’t the only regular capable of causing a scene at the old casino. None other than our own Mr. Montague C. Horse was also known for occasionally taking things just a little too far after a long day of cocktails and craps. On one occasion the disturbance went a little further than usual which led to Monty coming into direct contact with our Midge.  It seems there was some confusion over the ownership of a diamond necklace that had found its way from Monty’s pocket to a certain blueblood debutante’s neck. Monty started throwing kicks and before he knew what was coming he received a blow to the base of the neck. He awoke a few minutes later to find himself hog tied and hanging 4o feet above the ground from the casino’s grand chandelier. When he inquired as to which army of hooligans were responsible for this outrage he was informed that Midge was the only security person working at the casino.  When Monty found out that this 110 pound beauty had man-handled his majestic 1100 pound frame with such ease and elegance he knew he had to have her for his own private security detail…