I visited LaFlamme with the sole intention of grilling her on her knowledge of my client Spore's nefarious activities. Instead I was dealt a sherry-like substance and a copy of her five-book publishing contract, along with a reminder that my life still sucked.

LaFlamme had out-manoeuvred me again, and what appeared to be an impending revelation about my client made me all the more uneasy.

"Notice anything unusual about the logo?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the contract. Years of graphic design torture had left me immune to the charms of my own trade, to the extent that I now mentally blanked out anything that wasn't 10-point Times.

I took a second look at the document header. And there it was: the world's worst logo. The one that Spore asked me to investigate in the first place.

Now I may not be the sharpest guy around. In fact the Admiral described me as a ‘halfwit', but after thirty minutes in his company a man's likely to lose a great deal of his wit, along with most of his will to live.

But I can put two and two together and get a number between three and five. I gathered all my cognitive powers in an attempt to demonstrate my intelligence and perception at its most devastating and incisive, and with everything I could muster said, "I'm confused."