Ever since I was a wee young sprog I always wanted to be Bond.
Bond has this overpowering pull on a young man’s imagination. Perhaps it’s because of the adventure and excitement associated with the films. Maybe its the gadgets and cars. Probably its the fact that he gets beautiful women falling over themselves to be used as meaningless sex fodder.
For me it was all of the above and more. You see, I liked the idea of the lifestyle. Travelling all over the world, shooting bad guys, drinking expensive wines of which I knew everything from the year it was produced to the size of the feet that trod the grapes then bonking the babe before moving on to the next kill. I made the conscious choice that I wanted this lifestyle.
This translated itself into my actions in various ways. As a child with very little money and even less influence on where I could travel I had to be content with pretending my bicycle was an Aston Martin DB5 with an ejector saddle and guns protruding from the handlebars. I had my trusty transparent blue Walther PPK water pistol. My blackcurrant juice was a cleverly disguised Vodka Martini and the family caravan holidays to Cornwall were really secret missions to exotic locations. As for the women, other than a fantastic 10 minute fumble behind the school bicycle shed with Sharon Taylor (she was gorgeous) and a 15 minute fumble with Alex Powers (so was she)for the most part I had to pretend to have lots of rumpy pumpy (the least said about that the better).
Of course all of this took place at the age of about 9 or 10. Later in life I became much more sophisticated. I could still never afford the Rolex Mariner or the DB5 but I did educate myself to know that a red Bordeaux is in fact a Claret, bought myself a dinner jacket, learned how to play poker and even drove around in a two seater convertable MG sports car.
I thought I was the business. People have even told me that I bear resemblance to Daniel Craig. From behind with the lights off.
It was not long before espionage came tugging at my tadger; industrial espionage that is for I was recruited for a top secret mission which involved travel, intrigue and danger.
Wow what was the mission?.. did I hear someone gasp in excitement (probably not). I was sent by a research company to spy on rival supermarket chains. I had to pretend to be shopping but really I was sent to check up on how much meterage shops were giving to certain products and what kind of shelf displays they had.
Boring??? not at all. Very dangerous. Supermarket managers, while in reality are trumped up little grocers, think that they are evil geniuses and guard their stores as if they were a secret submarine base. Many a time I have been chased around a shop, avoiding certain doom by hiding behind a stack of baked beans. Despite this here I am years later with a few scars but still alive.
Only nowadays I’m more like Jonny English than Bond.
Still I’m more than a match for the toughest enemy so if you need a man with a cool head, smooth charm and a libido like a rutting rhino, I’m your man.
