Simon Calder: The man who spies all day

Monday: visit the Hermitage in St Petersburg, then take the overnight train to Moscow. Tuesday: explore the glittering palaces and churches of the Kremlin, then the glittering shops and restaurants along Tverskaya. Wednesday: start the day with some light cloak-and-dagger duties, then meet double agent in Gorky Park.

If such a 007 existence appeals, then you could be in luck: MI6 is advertising for spies (euphemistically called "operational officers") in the independent-travel magazine Wanderlust.

"If you have the skills, personality and international view to thrive in the organisation more popularly known as MI6," trills the ad, "visit www.mi6officers.co.uk". So I did, and discovered that prospective candidates can test their aptitude for the job in a scenario that begins: "You're stationed in Trans-euratania. You're a vegetarian and the food isn't especially good in Metropoligrad – unlike the coffee, which costs less than a shilling for a pot at the best hotel."

This helped to confirm my suspicion that the life of a spy is commensurate with that of a travel writer, with the basic aim of being permanently on holiday while pretending to work.

"Travel more, pay less" is the headline on the cover of the June/July edition of the magazine. This is a reference to a special cut-price travel section aimed at readers hit by the credit crunch. But the slogan also applies to people who seek to join the Secret Intelligence Service, as MI6 is officially known. People are paid "to become experts in strategically important foreign countries", and even employees based in London can expect to travel abroad "typically on short deployments of approximately a few days each month".

You also get a decent salary, five weeks of holiday a year and, touchingly, the chance to participate in a bicycle-to-work scheme – though not, presumably, while undercover in Afghan-istan or Iraq. Having endured hardships ranging from camping expeditions with the Woodcraft Folk to flying Ryanair, I had to apply.

I was glad to see that I could tick the right boxes: "yes" to a full driving licence and a suitable degree; "no" to having used Class A drugs within the past year and being bankrupt.

Though it was not specifically asked for, I can claim previous experience. I was first arrested for spying in 1986; a spot of careless photography in the vicinity of an army barracks in Transylvania earned me an unexpected city-break at President Ceausescu's pleasure in Bucharest. Frontier officials in Honduras did not even allow me the chance to indulge in activities incompatible with my status as tourist, by chucking me straight back out again to war-torn El Salvador. And as I wandered through the decreptitude of Calle Salud in central Havana, I was arrested by police and taken in for questioning. The interrogation went, roughly:

"Are you a spy?"

"No."

"Well go away then."

That is surely the sort of performance MI6 is after. OK, it's not exactly James Bond, but I don't believe Ian Fleming's hero, for all his courage and cunning, scraped a Russian O-level nor passed a Cycling Proficiency Test – the adjunct for that bike-to-work scheme.

Recruiting British tourists as spies is an excellent idea. After all, the role of bumbling fool is played by millions of us every year, providing perfect cover for people who possess the "rare skills" necessary to persuade highly placed locals "to divulge sensitive information" (perhaps a task that would be rendered easier by something a little stronger than Trans-euratanian coffee) to protect "the nation's security, stability and prosperity".

Backpackers traditionally wander off the beaten track. They could usefully survey a munitions factory while ostensibly exploring ruined fortresses; or sandwich a meeting with an informant between visits to the market and the mosque.

Three things persuaded me not to complete the application form. First, the onerous demand for comprehensive details of every foreign trip undertaken in the last 10 years. Next, the assertion that "we have to be 100 per cent confident that our intelligence is accurate"; such certainty is surely pretty unlikely in this tricky world, as the Government discovered when it went to look for those pesky weapons of mass destruction that, we were confidently assured, Iraq possessed.

Finally, the stipulation: "You must not share news of your application with anyone." Too late.

Too clever by half

Intelligence abounds in the pages of Wanderlust, but one top tip about booking cheap flights and holidays intrigued me. The magazine asserts that, irrespective of the actual day of travel, you can save cash by buying in the middle of the week: "It can be cheaper to book your ticket midweek (particularly on short-haul flights). Most people book at the weekend, so travel companies set their prices higher at those times."

The firms I spoke to were bemused by the suggestion. A spokeswoman for easyJet said: "We don't drop prices during the week. Fares are based solely on the demand for a particular flight rather than how many people are booking on the internet at that time." British Airways was equally bemused: "We don't do that." Stephen Bath, managing director of Bath Travel, said he had never heard of the practice, and in any case: "The biggest day for booking holidays through travel agencies is a Monday."

A travel urban myth? Perhaps your spies know better.

Interesting? Click here to explore further