There's a saying, YMMV (your mileage may vary) which definitely applies here. This is for those who remember and most of all it's for my friend @Higgins ...
1999.
The Higgins household. Higgins is pacing back and forward, never getting too far away from the telephone, while his concerned frau looks on, worriedly.
Frau: Oh sit down, mein Liebling, why don’t you?
Higgins: Sit down? I can’t sit down!
Frau: Just relax, mein Schatz, and -
Higgins: Relax? I cannot relax!
Frau: Sit and I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee and -
Higgins: A nice cup of coffee? How can I think of a nice cup of coffee at a time like this?
Frau: A time like what? Nothing is happening!
Higgins: That’s exactly it, nothing is happening! That telephone there should be ringing by now!
Frau: And why should it be ringing?
Higgins: Because I happen to know that they are shooting the next James Bond film, “Die Welt Ist nicht Genug” right now.
Frau: „Die Welt Ist nicht Genug“? Foolish sentiment.
Higgins: Family motto.
Frau: But why should they call you, Higgins of my heart?
Higgins: Didn’t you see the last one, “Der Morgen Stirbt Nie”? Did not you see my magnificent performance?
Frau: Er… your magnificent performance?
Higgins: I was superb!
Frau: You mean in your role of “Man In Back Seat of Car”?
Higgins: Yes, exactly!
Frau: If you’re wanting to be exact, you played the part of “Man In Back Seat Of Car When Seen In Long Shot”.
Higgins: I did! And I played it superbly!
Frau: Nobody could have played it better, I am sure.
Higgins: (His pacing has become ever more fervent.) Then they must phone me to do it again! Or perhaps even more!
Frau: Now listen, mein liebster, just listen one moment. Suppose that there is no scene in this next film for a car full of villains to be seen in long shot?
Higgins: What? You are joking!
Frau: Maybe, maybe not. Now go put your green trainers away, you’re wearing them out.
1967. Jonathan Cape, Publishers, London. The door to an office opens and Ian Fleming walks in.
Publisher: Ian! How good of you to come in! Take a seat.
Fleming: (Sitting.) Glad to be here. Air conditioned, is it?
Publisher: Why, yes. How did you spot that?
Fleming: I can always tell when my throat gets dry. (Rubs his throat.) Very dry.
Publisher: Oh. Oh, yes, of course. (Heads over to the drinks cabinet.) Vodka martini. Now, let me see…
Fleming: Stop stalling, you should know the recipe by now.
Publisher: Of course, of course. (Begins mixing.) Now, I expect you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to come in.
Fleming: Not really, I can guess. I haven’t given you a manuscript since “The Man With The Golden Gun” a couple of years ago.
Publisher: That’s right. We managed to fill the gap last year by publishing a pair of short stories. Here, take your drink.
Fleming: “Octopussy and The Living Daylights”. Why didn’t you include the other stories that were lying around, such as “The Property of a Lady”?
Publisher: That’s simple. It’ll be included in the paperback edition Pan will shortly be issuing, thus making sure the Bond fans have to pay twice.
Fleming: You publishers, you really know how to milk the cow dry, don’t you?
Publishers: And it’s on that subject that we’d like to hear your thoughts. You’re absolutely sure you won’t write another James Bond novel?
Fleming: Absolutely drained, dear boy. I have nothing left in the tank. I’ve run out of puff and zest.
Publisher: Not even a short story?
Fleming: Not even that.
Publisher: I was afraid you would say that. Now, we have a proposition to put to you. Don’t say no until you’ve heard it out.
Fleming: I’m listening.
Publisher: Have you considered having someone else do the donkey work for you? Someone else actually write the books?
Fleming: What, like Leslie Charteris does with The Saint, you mean?
Publisher: Ah! That’s supposed to be a secret.
Fleming: You’d better tell him that, he’s been making no bones about it.
Publisher: Well, this practice goes back a long way. Alexandre Dumas was in the habit of using the services of a writer called Maquet, for example.
Fleming: Yes, I know, and that led to a famous court case if I recall correctly. Well, not so long ago I had just such a court case and it damn near killed me so I have no wish to go through all that again.
Publisher: But what if all the angles were covered by a written legal agreement, which is something you unfortunately didn’t have with Kevin Mc- oh, I’m sorry. Here, take my handkerchief.
Fleming: I’d appreciate you not mentioning that name in my presence again.
Publisher: We have a name in mind for someone to write the next James Bond book. A very logical choice.
Fleming: And who might that be? Richard Maibaum?
Publisher: No, he’s tied up writing the screenplays for the films.
Fleming: Who then?
Publisher: Kingsley Amis. He’s already written two books about James Bond
so he certainly has the right background.
Fleming: And he is also a well-known successful novelist in his own right. He would never agree to ghostwriting.
Publisher: I’ve taken the liberty of sounding him out on the subject –
Fleming: Before asking me? That IS a liberty!
Publisher: Please, Ian. He has a solution which I think will keep everyone happy. He’s willing to write a James Bond book not under his own name but a pen name – “Robert Markham” was the one suggested – and we will drop hints that it was based on notes of yours.
Fleming: Hmmm… I’m interested. Keep talking.
Publisher: We just have to have your permission and come to some sort of agreement about splitting the income. What do you say?
Fleming: I’d have to think about it. Meantime, another of those martinis may help that process.
(Fleming holds out his empty glass as the Publisher scurries to the drinks cabinet.)
--------------------------------------
1981 Jonathan Cape, Publishers, London. A door opens and Ian Fleming comes in.
Publisher: Ah, Ian, how are you?
Fleming: (Taking a seat.) I’ll be a lot better with a drink in my hand.
Publisher: I’m on to it. (Heads to the drinks cabinet.) And I know what you want, no need to tell me again.
Fleming: Thank you.
Publisher: (Pouring.) Now, I expect you’ve guessed why we’ve asked you to come in for a friendly chat?
Fleming: Of course. You’d like my permission to keep that Christopher Wood fellow writing James Bond books.
Publisher: Yes, that’s – I mean no, not at all.
Fleming: I was under the impression that his two had sold very well. I was rather pleased with the size of the cheques for my share.
Publisher: True, however he wants to write other things. He says he’s done two James Bond films and the related two books.
Fleming: Two? How does he think I feel?!
Publisher: We’d like to talk to you about bringing another author on board.
Fleming: Again? We’ve had Amis, Pearson, Wood, and you want another?
Publisher: It’s not us, Ian, it’s the public. They never stop wanting more and if you’re not willing to write them then someone has to.
Fleming: All right, all right. Who do you have in mind this time?
Publisher: John Gardner.
Fleming: The Boysie Oakes author? Isn’t he a trifle lightweight?
Publisher: He’s written things other than Boysie Oakes. You should give him a try, you know.
Fleming: Then all right, let’s bring him in for a meeting and see how it goes.
1996. Hodder & Stoughton, Publisher, London. An office door opens and Ian Fleming walks in.
Publisher: Ah, hello, Mr Fleming. Please, have a seat.
Fleming: Thank you. (Sits.)
Publisher: Your first time here at our offices, I believe.
Fleming: Yes, indeed. A bit of a change after so many years at Jonathan Cape. (Looks around.) Nice office, though I preferred the old one at Cape. There’s something missing from here, though I can’t put my finger on it.
Publisher: Let me help you with that. (Slides open a cabinet door to reveal a wide range of drinks.) Would this be what you were looking for?
Fleming: I think I may like it here after all. I’ll have a –
Publisher: - Vodka martini, shaken not stirred. (Begins to mix two drinks.) Word gets around you know, Mr Fleming. You are a bit of a legend, after all.
Fleming: Very kind of you to say that. Well, let me guess what I’m here for – Gardner has got fed up with the ghostwriting job and wants out?
Publisher: Well, not exactly.
Fleming: I’d be happy about that. His last one was so poor I’d have been delighted to see his name on it so he got the blame.
Publisher: He does in fact want out, but it’s for health reasons. I’d rather not go into details, if you don’t mind, but I am pleased to say that we already have a name in the frame to replace him.
Fleming: And who would that be? J le C? Len?
Publisher: They’re both rather too big a fish for our net, I’m afraid, and anyway J le C has made it no secret that he detests Bond.
Fleming: I’ve lost no sleep over that. Who is it, then?
Publisher: Raymond Benson.
Fleming: Benson? But he’s an American!
Publisher: That’s true, but like Kingsley Amis all those years ago he is a Bond fan and has written at length showing his knowledge of the character and his world.
Fleming: Yes, “The Bedside Companion”. Rather good, I thought.
Publisher: Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked him in for a meeting with you?
Luigi, a Beretta Technician and Sergio, a Beretta Designer are having the Morning Cappuccino together in a company room.
Sergio: "Beretta is manufacturing Handweapons since 1526. Now I will design the newest- the Beretta 70, a soon to be an iconic Handgun, in which People like the Mossad already show interest. Of course they would want a concealable Gun -but not the PPK like James Bond, because they have Issues with the Germans."
Luigi: "Those Guns will be used on these germans, if they are old Nazi War Criminals. That would be too ironic. I see your Triggerguard Design is even more curvy than the PPK, it looks very beautiful!"
Sergio:" Beautiful, but deadly! With the whole Spycraze of our Time and Bond switching his damn Beretta against a German Walther in his first Movie was really Bad Luck for Beretta!"
Luigi: " Doctor No was a Disaster for Beretta! But- Now it is Time for Beretta to strike back!"
Egypt 1976
Production Designers Peter Lamont and Ken Adam are having a traditional Arabian Coffee in Gizeh-in Front of the Pyramids, where
The Spy, who loved Me is shot.
Peter: " Bad News, Ken. The Hero PPK Prop wouldn't make it through Egyptian customs.
We should have smuggled it in like Bond in his Travel Typewriter like Bond in the Wood Novelization! Hahah.
But here are the good News:: The local Propmaster has an equally sized pistol. A Beretta 70."
Ken: " Yeah, lets take that one as the stand in for the Walther. I love the design with the curvy Triggerguard. My 1970s Design is also very curvy- just think of Atlantis!"
London 1984
Placo Toys decides they have the 007 License and the Beretta 1970 Toy Dartgun Molds, so the Beretta 70 finally becomes a real James Bond Gun Prop Replica.
James Bond opened his eyes, squinting slightly against the light through the window of his bedroom. He looked at the mess of blonde hair on the pillow next to his as the memories came flooding back and gently disentangled himself from her limbs. He decided to skip his customary morning exercises, reflecting that he had enjoyed more than enough exercise during the night, and slipped on the pyjama coat he had been wearing for more years than he cared to remember as he headed for the kitchen.
Normally he would have called on May to prepare his morning coffee, but after a stinging lecture on the folly of expecting a Scot to work on what she referred to as Ne’erday he knew better. On his way he was surprised, since there was no postal service today, to notice a small parcel had been delivered earlier. Cautiously he picked up the parcel and placed it on the custom-built X-ray scanner Q had given him which unobtrusively blended in with the room’s décor. He flicked a couple of switches to find that the parcel contained nothing more sinister than a book.
On opening the parcel he found this book to be a diary with a note saying “Hello James, I thought you might find this useful. It may help you with your punctuality issues. Moneypenny” which brought a wry smile to his cold, ruthless features. Punctuality issues! As if he had a problem there. His memory was working just fine, as Chief Of Staff Bill Spanner had told him only recently.
Noises from the bedroom made him recall that he had been interrupted on his way to make coffee. Now, what was her name again…?
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 28,075Chief of Staff
Bond called to the bedroom, “Just one moment” as he began the coffee ritual. It took only a few minutes to assemble a tray with the necessary accoutrements and head back to the bedroom – not nearly long enough to recall her name. He went in, taking an unseen deep breath as he carried the tray to the bed.
The beautiful blue eyes smiled at him.
“Oh, James, coffee! There seems no end to your talents”, she said with a ribald accent on the last word.
“As long as you’re pleased, darling”, said Bond, raising an eyebrow in silent gratitude for that useful word “darling” which could cover so many sins. He began to hum a melody, a familiar melody, now what was it called … ? That was it, “The Look Of Love”, sung by … Dusty! That was her name!
“Some sugar, Dusty?” he asked, just to show that he remembered.
“Just one”, said Dusty.
As Bond obliged, he marvelled at the power of the subconscious reminding him of the name of this exciting creature before him who had now let the cover down to reveal her full, heavy breasts. The melody had led him there, he thought, as he leaned over to kiss her. A good thing her name hadn’t been Alicia.
The words rang around again and again inside Mr Osato’s head, as he scurried away from the presence of the man he knew only as “Number One”. A small but terrifying figure, attended always by his hulking bodyguard …. Hans, was it? A big man, all dressed in black, who stood silently while his master stroked that infernal cat. There was no doubt he could kill the average man in only a few seconds, and Osato knew he was not the average man but an ageing, weakened figure whose only chance of survival lay in following Number One’s commands to the letter.
After all, hadn’t he seen what had happened to his partner Helga? Fed to piranha fish and stripped to the bone within seconds. Osato had allowed himself the occasional dream about the beautiful Helga, which had never had much of a chance of coming to pass if he was honest with himself, and now she was gone. A warning to him not to fail.
Back in his temporary base, Osato ran through a list of possible assassins he could summon – tools in his service he had used previously. After some thought he dialled a number then waited. Before too long two men appeared and stood before Mr Osato, who showed them a photograph taken from a recent newspaper. The story had turned out to be false but the picture was real enough.
“You see this man?” barked Osato.
“Yes, sir.”
“I want him dead as soon as possible. Do you think you can succeed in this task?”
The two looked at each other.
“Yes, sir. Where can we find him?”
“He is at present in the local ninja establishment, and … is there now a problem? Are you afraid?”
The two were casting aside glances at each other before one summoned up the courage to reply.
“Ninjas, you say, Osato-san?”
“Ninjas I said and ninjas I meant.”
“In their own establishment?”
Osato looked hard at the two men.
“Do you not believe that you have the skills necessary for you to infiltrate such an establishment, find the man I have pointed out to you, and eliminate him?”
One of the men gave a loud exclamation of breath.
“Sir! This is a most difficult task you have asked. While we believe that we possess the necessary skills to succeed, the danger level is extraordinarily high and must be reflected in the reward we must seek from you.”
It was Osato’s turn to give a loud exclamation of breath.
“So! Very well, let this be our arrangement: I shall pay you double the normal fee we have agreed on in the past.”
The two looked at each other, their eyes meeting, before nodding at Osato.
“Then let us waste no further time. Oh, except to inform you that this gaijin has made an attempt to look like one of us in an effort to blend in.”
Again the two looked at each other.
“But then how are we to recognise him, Osato-san?”
Osato smiled for the first time that day before answering.
“I do not think there will be any problem.”
Mr Osato looked from his desk to the man standing in front of him.
“You will recall when you and your ally were tasked with eliminating a gaijin?”
The man trembled slightly.
“Indeed, honoured sir, but –“
“And you assured me then that there would be no difficulty in carrying out this task?”
“That is so, but –“
“And yet your partner has been killed and the target still lives.”
The man lowered his head, acknowledging the truth of Osato’s words and not knowing what was to be his fate.
“Nevertheless, I appreciate that the task initially given to you was most certainly a difficult one since it involved infiltrating a ninja establishment and masquerading as one of their number in an effort to get close enough to kill the target. I am therefore willing to give you a second chance at liquidating this man to allow you to regain face in our organisation.”
The killer looked up, hopefully.
“Yes, Osato-san?”
“He has taken a local bride in yet another effort to blend in and fool us. Naturally we have seen through this, and know where he sleeps tonight.”
“Then I shall stealthily enter his sleeping chamber and cut his throat while he sleeps! The woman’s, too, if necessary.”
Osato shook his head.
“Then I shall simply take a gun and shoot him! I have one in my room and –“
Osato slammed his hand down on the desk, hard.
“You will do no such thing! Here, take these!”
He handed over a long ball of twine and a small bottle. The killer looked at him in puzzlement.
“But Osato-san, I do not understand.”
“It is most simple”, said Osato. “This will be silent but deadly. Tonight as the target sleeps, I want you to lower this string above his mouth and run some of this quick-acting poison down it. Now do you see?”
The assassin still looked puzzled.
“But-“
“Out!” ordered Osato.
The man ran off, taking the items he had been given. Osato sat back comfortably in his chair and smiled. Now he could assure Number One that James Bond had been killed. He could see nothing going wrong with his plan.
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 28,075Chief of Staff
Excellent writing…and great fun…and more and more complex ways to kill 🤣
2025. Pinewood Studios. First day of shooting for the New Bond Guy. They’re doing the Q scene.
Ben Whishaw: Now pay attention, 007. Take this hat. As you know it has concealed propellor blades to act as a miniature helicopter.
New Bond Guy: (Lifting an eyebrow in a very Roger Moore way.) That’s most uplifting, Q.
Ben: As long as you remember to fasten the chinstrap before turning it on.
New Bond Guy: But of course. Looks super easy.
Director: And cut!
Barbara: Oh, that was wonderful!
New Bond Guy: You really think so?
Barbara: Of course I do, you handled that really well.
New Bond Guy: Then I’m pleased, I want you to be happy.
Barbara: Would you like to see the rushes?
New Bond Guy: Sure.
Barbara: Then come over here.
(BB leads the new actor to a screen in the corner.)
New Bond Guy: Neat.
Barbara: Have a seat. Just look at this.
(The New Bond Guy looks at the screen. It lights up to show Bond talking to Q.)
Q: Now pay attention, 007. Take this hat. As you know it has concealed propellor blades to act as a miniature helicopter.
Bond: (Lifting an eyebrow in a very Sean Connery way.) That’sh mosht uplifting, Q.
Q: As long as you remember to fasten the chinstrap before turning it on.
Bond: But of courshe. Looksh shuper eashy.
New Bond Guy: But… but surely that’s Desmond Llewelyn!
Barbara: It is indeed, and stop calling me Shirley. (Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. Barbel)
New Bond Guy: He’s been dead for years! I was speaking with Ben Whishaw!
Barbara: It’s the power of CGI, of course. We made Ben look and sound exactly like Desmond.
New Bond Guy: And… and you made me look and sound like Sean Connery!
Barbara: Why do you think we insisted you wear that grey suit with the waistcoat?
New Bond Guy: And what have you done to my voice!?! It now sounds exshactly like hish! I mean, exactly like his!
Barbara: Well, Michael and I had some serious discussions about that. I wanted you to come out of the CGI looking and sounding like … like … someone else …. (Wipes away a tear.) But Michael insisted, saying he was the last member of the Bond team to have actually worked on a Sean Connery Bond film and at his age and how long we take to make a Bond movie these days this would perhaps be his last chance to do that again.
New Bond Guy: You might have asked me first!
Barbara: You didn’t read your contract?
New Bond Guy: Well, I read the first fifty-six pages of it – all that stuff about not wearing a tuxedo in any other movie or TV show, not driving an Aston Martin, etc.
Barbara: Keep reading. There’s more. Lots more.
New Bond Guy: Oh bloody hell.
Barbara: And no swearing – that’s on page fifty-seven. Now let’s watch that again.
(BB presses a button. The screen lights up.)
Q: Now pay attention doub-doub-doub-
New Bond Guy: What’s happening?
Barbara: It’s not perfected yet.
New Bond Guy: Oh.
(For the first time, the New Bond Guy begins to wonder what he's got himself into....)
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 28,075Chief of Staff
I guess we aren’t too far away from that reality now 😳
Reporter: It’s very kind of you to allow us to interview you, Mr Drax. Reporters can be a nuisance, I know.
Drax: You appear with the tedious inevitability of an unloved season.
Reporter: Er, yes, I see. I know you must be a very busy man working on your space program. Our readers would be thrilled to know more about it.
Drax: First there was a dream. Now there is reality.
Reporter: You must be almost at the conclusion of your plans.
Drax: My finely wrought dream approaches reality.
Reporter: And what’s the highlight of such a dream?
Drax: Afternoon tea.
Reporter: Is that all?
Drax: May I press you to a cucumber sandwich?
Reporter: Umm, no, thank you. I’ve been reading up on your “Moonraker” ideas.
Drax: No doubt you have realised the splendour of my conception.
Reporter: Do you make the whole thing here?
Drax: No, I own a number of subsidiaries worldwide producing components. The conquest of space is an investment in the future of the human race. It is therefore logical to seek out the best from each nation.
Reporter: Oh, like the Eurovision Song Contest?
Drax: I sometimes find your sense of humour difficult to follow.
Reporter: Ah. Sorry.
Drax: Now, you have distracted me enough.
Reporter: You mean it’s time to go?
(Drax clicks his fingers and his two dogs look up. The reporter runs like hell.)
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 28,075Chief of Staff
Comments
There's a saying, YMMV (your mileage may vary) which definitely applies here. This is for those who remember and most of all it's for my friend @Higgins ...
1999.
The Higgins household. Higgins is pacing back and forward, never getting too far away from the telephone, while his concerned frau looks on, worriedly.
Frau: Oh sit down, mein Liebling, why don’t you?
Higgins: Sit down? I can’t sit down!
Frau: Just relax, mein Schatz, and -
Higgins: Relax? I cannot relax!
Frau: Sit and I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee and -
Higgins: A nice cup of coffee? How can I think of a nice cup of coffee at a time like this?
Frau: A time like what? Nothing is happening!
Higgins: That’s exactly it, nothing is happening! That telephone there should be ringing by now!
Frau: And why should it be ringing?
Higgins: Because I happen to know that they are shooting the next James Bond film, “Die Welt Ist nicht Genug” right now.
Frau: „Die Welt Ist nicht Genug“? Foolish sentiment.
Higgins: Family motto.
Frau: But why should they call you, Higgins of my heart?
Higgins: Didn’t you see the last one, “Der Morgen Stirbt Nie”? Did not you see my magnificent performance?
Frau: Er… your magnificent performance?
Higgins: I was superb!
Frau: You mean in your role of “Man In Back Seat of Car”?
Higgins: Yes, exactly!
Frau: If you’re wanting to be exact, you played the part of “Man In Back Seat Of Car When Seen In Long Shot”.
Higgins: I did! And I played it superbly!
Frau: Nobody could have played it better, I am sure.
Higgins: (His pacing has become ever more fervent.) Then they must phone me to do it again! Or perhaps even more!
Frau: Now listen, mein liebster, just listen one moment. Suppose that there is no scene in this next film for a car full of villains to be seen in long shot?
Higgins: What? You are joking!
Frau: Maybe, maybe not. Now go put your green trainers away, you’re wearing them out.
higgins is lucky he didnt reprise his role as "man in back of car" for the next film!
howd he get that gig in the first place? I missed that story
I think Mrs Higgins would be more forceful 👀🤣
You have the advantage there of having met the lady, while I've only met the gentleman.
You'll have to ask him!
Gentleman? I thought you said you’d met him 👀
Twice, in fact. He's a nice guy!
This next was inspired/suggested/faintly alluded to on the previous page.
1967. Jonathan Cape, Publishers, London. The door to an office opens and Ian Fleming walks in.
Publisher: Ian! How good of you to come in! Take a seat.
Fleming: (Sitting.) Glad to be here. Air conditioned, is it?
Publisher: Why, yes. How did you spot that?
Fleming: I can always tell when my throat gets dry. (Rubs his throat.) Very dry.
Publisher: Oh. Oh, yes, of course. (Heads over to the drinks cabinet.) Vodka martini. Now, let me see…
Fleming: Stop stalling, you should know the recipe by now.
Publisher: Of course, of course. (Begins mixing.) Now, I expect you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to come in.
Fleming: Not really, I can guess. I haven’t given you a manuscript since “The Man With The Golden Gun” a couple of years ago.
Publisher: That’s right. We managed to fill the gap last year by publishing a pair of short stories. Here, take your drink.
Fleming: “Octopussy and The Living Daylights”. Why didn’t you include the other stories that were lying around, such as “The Property of a Lady”?
Publisher: That’s simple. It’ll be included in the paperback edition Pan will shortly be issuing, thus making sure the Bond fans have to pay twice.
Fleming: You publishers, you really know how to milk the cow dry, don’t you?
Publishers: And it’s on that subject that we’d like to hear your thoughts. You’re absolutely sure you won’t write another James Bond novel?
Fleming: Absolutely drained, dear boy. I have nothing left in the tank. I’ve run out of puff and zest.
Publisher: Not even a short story?
Fleming: Not even that.
Publisher: I was afraid you would say that. Now, we have a proposition to put to you. Don’t say no until you’ve heard it out.
Fleming: I’m listening.
Publisher: Have you considered having someone else do the donkey work for you? Someone else actually write the books?
Fleming: What, like Leslie Charteris does with The Saint, you mean?
Publisher: Ah! That’s supposed to be a secret.
Fleming: You’d better tell him that, he’s been making no bones about it.
Publisher: Well, this practice goes back a long way. Alexandre Dumas was in the habit of using the services of a writer called Maquet, for example.
Fleming: Yes, I know, and that led to a famous court case if I recall correctly. Well, not so long ago I had just such a court case and it damn near killed me so I have no wish to go through all that again.
Publisher: But what if all the angles were covered by a written legal agreement, which is something you unfortunately didn’t have with Kevin Mc- oh, I’m sorry. Here, take my handkerchief.
Fleming: I’d appreciate you not mentioning that name in my presence again.
Publisher: We have a name in mind for someone to write the next James Bond book. A very logical choice.
Fleming: And who might that be? Richard Maibaum?
Publisher: No, he’s tied up writing the screenplays for the films.
Fleming: Who then?
Publisher: Kingsley Amis. He’s already written two books about James Bond
so he certainly has the right background.
Fleming: And he is also a well-known successful novelist in his own right. He would never agree to ghostwriting.
Publisher: I’ve taken the liberty of sounding him out on the subject –
Fleming: Before asking me? That IS a liberty!
Publisher: Please, Ian. He has a solution which I think will keep everyone happy. He’s willing to write a James Bond book not under his own name but a pen name – “Robert Markham” was the one suggested – and we will drop hints that it was based on notes of yours.
Fleming: Hmmm… I’m interested. Keep talking.
Publisher: We just have to have your permission and come to some sort of agreement about splitting the income. What do you say?
Fleming: I’d have to think about it. Meantime, another of those martinis may help that process.
(Fleming holds out his empty glass as the Publisher scurries to the drinks cabinet.)
--------------------------------------
1981 Jonathan Cape, Publishers, London. A door opens and Ian Fleming comes in.
Publisher: Ah, Ian, how are you?
Fleming: (Taking a seat.) I’ll be a lot better with a drink in my hand.
Publisher: I’m on to it. (Heads to the drinks cabinet.) And I know what you want, no need to tell me again.
Fleming: Thank you.
Publisher: (Pouring.) Now, I expect you’ve guessed why we’ve asked you to come in for a friendly chat?
Fleming: Of course. You’d like my permission to keep that Christopher Wood fellow writing James Bond books.
Publisher: Yes, that’s – I mean no, not at all.
Fleming: I was under the impression that his two had sold very well. I was rather pleased with the size of the cheques for my share.
Publisher: True, however he wants to write other things. He says he’s done two James Bond films and the related two books.
Fleming: Two? How does he think I feel?!
Publisher: We’d like to talk to you about bringing another author on board.
Fleming: Again? We’ve had Amis, Pearson, Wood, and you want another?
Publisher: It’s not us, Ian, it’s the public. They never stop wanting more and if you’re not willing to write them then someone has to.
Fleming: All right, all right. Who do you have in mind this time?
Publisher: John Gardner.
Fleming: The Boysie Oakes author? Isn’t he a trifle lightweight?
Publisher: He’s written things other than Boysie Oakes. You should give him a try, you know.
Fleming: Then all right, let’s bring him in for a meeting and see how it goes.
--------------------------------------------------------------
1996. Hodder & Stoughton, Publisher, London. An office door opens and Ian Fleming walks in.
Publisher: Ah, hello, Mr Fleming. Please, have a seat.
Fleming: Thank you. (Sits.)
Publisher: Your first time here at our offices, I believe.
Fleming: Yes, indeed. A bit of a change after so many years at Jonathan Cape. (Looks around.) Nice office, though I preferred the old one at Cape. There’s something missing from here, though I can’t put my finger on it.
Publisher: Let me help you with that. (Slides open a cabinet door to reveal a wide range of drinks.) Would this be what you were looking for?
Fleming: I think I may like it here after all. I’ll have a –
Publisher: - Vodka martini, shaken not stirred. (Begins to mix two drinks.) Word gets around you know, Mr Fleming. You are a bit of a legend, after all.
Fleming: Very kind of you to say that. Well, let me guess what I’m here for – Gardner has got fed up with the ghostwriting job and wants out?
Publisher: Well, not exactly.
Fleming: I’d be happy about that. His last one was so poor I’d have been delighted to see his name on it so he got the blame.
Publisher: He does in fact want out, but it’s for health reasons. I’d rather not go into details, if you don’t mind, but I am pleased to say that we already have a name in the frame to replace him.
Fleming: And who would that be? J le C? Len?
Publisher: They’re both rather too big a fish for our net, I’m afraid, and anyway J le C has made it no secret that he detests Bond.
Fleming: I’ve lost no sleep over that. Who is it, then?
Publisher: Raymond Benson.
Fleming: Benson? But he’s an American!
Publisher: That’s true, but like Kingsley Amis all those years ago he is a Bond fan and has written at length showing his knowledge of the character and his world.
Fleming: Yes, “The Bedside Companion”. Rather good, I thought.
Publisher: Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked him in for a meeting with you?
Fleming: No, that sounds reasonable.
Publisher: Excellent.
How can anyone suggest Higgins isn't superb? 😃 ... Quiet in the back!
Another excellently written conversation 🤣
Thank you very much, Sir M, and now it's obviously time for a break. Merry Christmas, everyone!
The penultimate instalment of
Now at The AJB007 Christmas Special 2024 — ajb007
Last part of our Christmas Special now available! https://www.ajb007.co.uk/discussion/56828/the-ajb007-christmas-special-2024#latest
Italy 1969
In the Fabbrica d’Armi Pietro Beretta in Gardone Val Trompia.
Luigi, a Beretta Technician and Sergio, a Beretta Designer are having the Morning Cappuccino together in a company room.
Sergio: "Beretta is manufacturing Handweapons since 1526. Now I will design the newest- the Beretta 70, a soon to be an iconic Handgun, in which People like the Mossad already show interest. Of course they would want a concealable Gun -but not the PPK like James Bond, because they have Issues with the Germans."
Luigi: "Those Guns will be used on these germans, if they are old Nazi War Criminals. That would be too ironic. I see your Triggerguard Design is even more curvy than the PPK, it looks very beautiful!"
Sergio:" Beautiful, but deadly! With the whole Spycraze of our Time and Bond switching his damn Beretta against a German Walther in his first Movie was really Bad Luck for Beretta!"
Luigi: " Doctor No was a Disaster for Beretta! But- Now it is Time for Beretta to strike back!"
Egypt 1976
Production Designers Peter Lamont and Ken Adam are having a traditional Arabian Coffee in Gizeh-in Front of the Pyramids, where
The Spy, who loved Me is shot.
Peter: " Bad News, Ken. The Hero PPK Prop wouldn't make it through Egyptian customs.
We should have smuggled it in like Bond in his Travel Typewriter like Bond in the Wood Novelization! Hahah.
But here are the good News:: The local Propmaster has an equally sized pistol. A Beretta 70."
Ken: " Yeah, lets take that one as the stand in for the Walther. I love the design with the curvy Triggerguard. My 1970s Design is also very curvy- just think of Atlantis!"
London 1984
Placo Toys decides they have the 007 License and the Beretta 1970 Toy Dartgun Molds, so the Beretta 70 finally becomes a real James Bond Gun Prop Replica.
👌 Hello again, Xando! Thank you for filling the gap while I enjoy a break. Hope you have some more!
Hi Barbel, I just love your Antics and this Section, reminds me of Marvels What If!
January 1st, 2025
James Bond opened his eyes, squinting slightly against the light through the window of his bedroom. He looked at the mess of blonde hair on the pillow next to his as the memories came flooding back and gently disentangled himself from her limbs. He decided to skip his customary morning exercises, reflecting that he had enjoyed more than enough exercise during the night, and slipped on the pyjama coat he had been wearing for more years than he cared to remember as he headed for the kitchen.
Normally he would have called on May to prepare his morning coffee, but after a stinging lecture on the folly of expecting a Scot to work on what she referred to as Ne’erday he knew better. On his way he was surprised, since there was no postal service today, to notice a small parcel had been delivered earlier. Cautiously he picked up the parcel and placed it on the custom-built X-ray scanner Q had given him which unobtrusively blended in with the room’s décor. He flicked a couple of switches to find that the parcel contained nothing more sinister than a book.
On opening the parcel he found this book to be a diary with a note saying “Hello James, I thought you might find this useful. It may help you with your punctuality issues. Moneypenny” which brought a wry smile to his cold, ruthless features. Punctuality issues! As if he had a problem there. His memory was working just fine, as Chief Of Staff Bill Spanner had told him only recently.
Noises from the bedroom made him recall that he had been interrupted on his way to make coffee. Now, what was her name again…?
Bill Spanner 👀😁
😂👏 If this is how good the 2025 posts will be then we are all in for a very good year 🍾
Thank you very much, more later!
(Continued)
“James? James? Where are you?”
Bond called to the bedroom, “Just one moment” as he began the coffee ritual. It took only a few minutes to assemble a tray with the necessary accoutrements and head back to the bedroom – not nearly long enough to recall her name. He went in, taking an unseen deep breath as he carried the tray to the bed.
The beautiful blue eyes smiled at him.
“Oh, James, coffee! There seems no end to your talents”, she said with a ribald accent on the last word.
“As long as you’re pleased, darling”, said Bond, raising an eyebrow in silent gratitude for that useful word “darling” which could cover so many sins. He began to hum a melody, a familiar melody, now what was it called … ? That was it, “The Look Of Love”, sung by … Dusty! That was her name!
“Some sugar, Dusty?” he asked, just to show that he remembered.
“Just one”, said Dusty.
As Bond obliged, he marvelled at the power of the subconscious reminding him of the name of this exciting creature before him who had now let the cover down to reveal her full, heavy breasts. The melody had led him there, he thought, as he leaned over to kiss her. A good thing her name hadn’t been Alicia.
1967.
“Kill Bond now!!”
The words rang around again and again inside Mr Osato’s head, as he scurried away from the presence of the man he knew only as “Number One”. A small but terrifying figure, attended always by his hulking bodyguard …. Hans, was it? A big man, all dressed in black, who stood silently while his master stroked that infernal cat. There was no doubt he could kill the average man in only a few seconds, and Osato knew he was not the average man but an ageing, weakened figure whose only chance of survival lay in following Number One’s commands to the letter.
After all, hadn’t he seen what had happened to his partner Helga? Fed to piranha fish and stripped to the bone within seconds. Osato had allowed himself the occasional dream about the beautiful Helga, which had never had much of a chance of coming to pass if he was honest with himself, and now she was gone. A warning to him not to fail.
Back in his temporary base, Osato ran through a list of possible assassins he could summon – tools in his service he had used previously. After some thought he dialled a number then waited. Before too long two men appeared and stood before Mr Osato, who showed them a photograph taken from a recent newspaper. The story had turned out to be false but the picture was real enough.
“You see this man?” barked Osato.
“Yes, sir.”
“I want him dead as soon as possible. Do you think you can succeed in this task?”
The two looked at each other.
“Yes, sir. Where can we find him?”
“He is at present in the local ninja establishment, and … is there now a problem? Are you afraid?”
The two were casting aside glances at each other before one summoned up the courage to reply.
“Ninjas, you say, Osato-san?”
“Ninjas I said and ninjas I meant.”
“In their own establishment?”
Osato looked hard at the two men.
“Do you not believe that you have the skills necessary for you to infiltrate such an establishment, find the man I have pointed out to you, and eliminate him?”
One of the men gave a loud exclamation of breath.
“Sir! This is a most difficult task you have asked. While we believe that we possess the necessary skills to succeed, the danger level is extraordinarily high and must be reflected in the reward we must seek from you.”
It was Osato’s turn to give a loud exclamation of breath.
“So! Very well, let this be our arrangement: I shall pay you double the normal fee we have agreed on in the past.”
The two looked at each other, their eyes meeting, before nodding at Osato.
“Then let us waste no further time. Oh, except to inform you that this gaijin has made an attempt to look like one of us in an effort to blend in.”
Again the two looked at each other.
“But then how are we to recognise him, Osato-san?”
Osato smiled for the first time that day before answering.
“I do not think there will be any problem.”
Mr Osato looked from his desk to the man standing in front of him.
“You will recall when you and your ally were tasked with eliminating a gaijin?”
The man trembled slightly.
“Indeed, honoured sir, but –“
“And you assured me then that there would be no difficulty in carrying out this task?”
“That is so, but –“
“And yet your partner has been killed and the target still lives.”
The man lowered his head, acknowledging the truth of Osato’s words and not knowing what was to be his fate.
“Nevertheless, I appreciate that the task initially given to you was most certainly a difficult one since it involved infiltrating a ninja establishment and masquerading as one of their number in an effort to get close enough to kill the target. I am therefore willing to give you a second chance at liquidating this man to allow you to regain face in our organisation.”
The killer looked up, hopefully.
“Yes, Osato-san?”
“He has taken a local bride in yet another effort to blend in and fool us. Naturally we have seen through this, and know where he sleeps tonight.”
“Then I shall stealthily enter his sleeping chamber and cut his throat while he sleeps! The woman’s, too, if necessary.”
Osato shook his head.
“Then I shall simply take a gun and shoot him! I have one in my room and –“
Osato slammed his hand down on the desk, hard.
“You will do no such thing! Here, take these!”
He handed over a long ball of twine and a small bottle. The killer looked at him in puzzlement.
“But Osato-san, I do not understand.”
“It is most simple”, said Osato. “This will be silent but deadly. Tonight as the target sleeps, I want you to lower this string above his mouth and run some of this quick-acting poison down it. Now do you see?”
The assassin still looked puzzled.
“But-“
“Out!” ordered Osato.
The man ran off, taking the items he had been given. Osato sat back comfortably in his chair and smiled. Now he could assure Number One that James Bond had been killed. He could see nothing going wrong with his plan.
Excellent writing…and great fun…and more and more complex ways to kill 🤣
Superb 👏
Thanks, guys!
2025. Pinewood Studios. First day of shooting for the New Bond Guy. They’re doing the Q scene.
Ben Whishaw: Now pay attention, 007. Take this hat. As you know it has concealed propellor blades to act as a miniature helicopter.
New Bond Guy: (Lifting an eyebrow in a very Roger Moore way.) That’s most uplifting, Q.
Ben: As long as you remember to fasten the chinstrap before turning it on.
New Bond Guy: But of course. Looks super easy.
Director: And cut!
Barbara: Oh, that was wonderful!
New Bond Guy: You really think so?
Barbara: Of course I do, you handled that really well.
New Bond Guy: Then I’m pleased, I want you to be happy.
Barbara: Would you like to see the rushes?
New Bond Guy: Sure.
Barbara: Then come over here.
(BB leads the new actor to a screen in the corner.)
New Bond Guy: Neat.
Barbara: Have a seat. Just look at this.
(The New Bond Guy looks at the screen. It lights up to show Bond talking to Q.)
Q: Now pay attention, 007. Take this hat. As you know it has concealed propellor blades to act as a miniature helicopter.
Bond: (Lifting an eyebrow in a very Sean Connery way.) That’sh mosht uplifting, Q.
Q: As long as you remember to fasten the chinstrap before turning it on.
Bond: But of courshe. Looksh shuper eashy.
New Bond Guy: But… but surely that’s Desmond Llewelyn!
Barbara: It is indeed, and stop calling me Shirley. (Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. Barbel)
New Bond Guy: He’s been dead for years! I was speaking with Ben Whishaw!
Barbara: It’s the power of CGI, of course. We made Ben look and sound exactly like Desmond.
New Bond Guy: And… and you made me look and sound like Sean Connery!
Barbara: Why do you think we insisted you wear that grey suit with the waistcoat?
New Bond Guy: And what have you done to my voice!?! It now sounds exshactly like hish! I mean, exactly like his!
Barbara: Well, Michael and I had some serious discussions about that. I wanted you to come out of the CGI looking and sounding like … like … someone else …. (Wipes away a tear.) But Michael insisted, saying he was the last member of the Bond team to have actually worked on a Sean Connery Bond film and at his age and how long we take to make a Bond movie these days this would perhaps be his last chance to do that again.
New Bond Guy: You might have asked me first!
Barbara: You didn’t read your contract?
New Bond Guy: Well, I read the first fifty-six pages of it – all that stuff about not wearing a tuxedo in any other movie or TV show, not driving an Aston Martin, etc.
Barbara: Keep reading. There’s more. Lots more.
New Bond Guy: Oh bloody hell.
Barbara: And no swearing – that’s on page fifty-seven. Now let’s watch that again.
(BB presses a button. The screen lights up.)
Q: Now pay attention doub-doub-doub-
New Bond Guy: What’s happening?
Barbara: It’s not perfected yet.
New Bond Guy: Oh.
(For the first time, the New Bond Guy begins to wonder what he's got himself into....)
I guess we aren’t too far away from that reality now 😳
We might get the Bond that old gits like me want, as well 😁
1979. “Space” magazine interviews Hugo Drax.
Reporter: It’s very kind of you to allow us to interview you, Mr Drax. Reporters can be a nuisance, I know.
Drax: You appear with the tedious inevitability of an unloved season.
Reporter: Er, yes, I see. I know you must be a very busy man working on your space program. Our readers would be thrilled to know more about it.
Drax: First there was a dream. Now there is reality.
Reporter: You must be almost at the conclusion of your plans.
Drax: My finely wrought dream approaches reality.
Reporter: And what’s the highlight of such a dream?
Drax: Afternoon tea.
Reporter: Is that all?
Drax: May I press you to a cucumber sandwich?
Reporter: Umm, no, thank you. I’ve been reading up on your “Moonraker” ideas.
Drax: No doubt you have realised the splendour of my conception.
Reporter: Do you make the whole thing here?
Drax: No, I own a number of subsidiaries worldwide producing components. The conquest of space is an investment in the future of the human race. It is therefore logical to seek out the best from each nation.
Reporter: Oh, like the Eurovision Song Contest?
Drax: I sometimes find your sense of humour difficult to follow.
Reporter: Ah. Sorry.
Drax: Now, you have distracted me enough.
Reporter: You mean it’s time to go?
(Drax clicks his fingers and his two dogs look up. The reporter runs like hell.)
🤣
Reporter: Oh, like the Eurovision Song Contest?
😂🤣👏
Thanks guys. 😀
But wait! I can hear feet treading on a carpet.... pacing back and forth they go ....