An expanded version of my contribution of last week:
SABOTEUR EVADES CAPTURE IN HIGH-SPEED CHASE ALONG THE STRIP
The Las Vegas Police Department is under increasing pressure to explain how its officers managed to total an entire fleet of squad cars yesterday evening at the tail end of a high-speed chase along the Strip, in full view of hundreds of gawping tourists, crashing vehicle after vehicle in a parking lot while allowing their suspect, driving a red Mustang, to escape scot free.
The Sheriff in charge of the pursuit claims to have identified the speeding felon, still at large, as the "sonofabitchin saboteur" behind an incident, earlier yesterday, at Willard Whyte's Tectronics facility in the Nevada Desert. The subversive agitator in question, believed to be British, caused mayhem at the space research center when he wrecked a state-of-the-art moon buggy before hijacking a dune bike.
It's expected that the Chief of Police will need to apply to the City, cap in hand, for emergency funding to replace his crashed squad cars. Meanwhile the Sheriff, suspended from duty with immediate effect, is said to be ready to turn in his badge, having made plans to return to his home in Louisiana and resume his career in law enforcement there, in the relatively quiet environs of the Bayou, well away from "all free radicals."
Sammy Davis Junior was among the many who watched last night's bizarre spectacle from the sidewalk on the Strip. The entertainer quipped, "If you see a mad limey and a moll flip a wheelie through an alley, just smile... there's no birthday cake big enough to put him on top of!"
An anonymous source linked to the infamous Spangled Mob was less impressed. "Some friends of ours aren't too happy with what went down on the Strip last night. A lot of people make a lot of money from the casino business. Any stunt which draws gamblers out onto the sidewalk and away from our roulette tables is bad for business. Certain people are saying they want something done... And as for that *other* limey who's been ripping off our slot machines... I hear Morton Slumber has a vacant casket or two going spare..."
News of yesterday's events is spreading fast. Henry Gupta, a Computer Science graduate at Berkeley, issued this communique on behalf of SPECTRE (Student Protestors Energising Countercultural Tumult and Revolutionary Effort): "Far out, man! You gotta dig that dude who took direct action against the crypto-fascist military-industrial complex by wrecking that Tectronics gig in the desert. Way to go!" Despite Mr Gupta's militant stance he is rumoured to be falling out with fellow student radicals over his apparent eagerness to prime with information and opinion such "bread head" news outlets as this esteemed organ.
Willard Whyte was unavailable for comment.
Las Vegas Sun News.
Filed by visiting apprentice journalist, Elliot Carver, Spring 1971.
Critics and material I don't need. I haven't changed my act in 53 years.
That's it, I think. But here's another draft of the last paragraph, to squeeze in a couple more:
News of yesterday's events is spreading fast. Henry Gupta, a Computer Science graduate at Berkeley, issued this communique on behalf of SPECTRE (Student Protestors Energising Countercultural Tumult and Revolutionary Effort): "Far out, man! You gotta dig that dude who took direct action against the crypto-fascist military-industrial complex by wrecking that Tectronics gig in the desert. Way to go! Perhaps there's even a place for him in SPECTRE.... like with that cool 'other fella' who puts a downer on fat cat movie moguls by sporting a hip beard at their square movie premieres!" Despite Mr Gupta's militant stance he is rumoured to be falling out with fellow student radicals over his apparent eagerness to prime with information and opinion such "bread head" news outlets as this esteemed organ.
🙂
Critics and material I don't need. I haven't changed my act in 53 years.
Waltz: I’ve been expecting you, Mr Bo… er, Fleming.
Director: Cut! Take five, everyone. Christoph, go read the script again and try to get it right.
(Waltz goes to the side and sits with Charles Dance.)
Dance: Having problems, Christoph?
Waltz: Ja! They told me “Ian Fleming… Goldeneye…” and I said yes, of course. I didn’t realise it would be like this! I thought… well, you know what I thought.
Dance: I take it you’re keen to get in a real Bond movie, then?
Waltz: Of course! Aren’t you?
Dance: I’ve been in one already, Christoph.
Waltz: No! Which one?
Dance: “For Your Eyes Only”. I didn't have to be asked twice to play Fleming in this.
Waltz: Yes, well, I thought… Oh never mind.
(An attractive young woman wanders over.)
Dance: Good morning, my dear.
Young Woman: I just came over to say hello, Mr Dance. We have a scene together tomorrow.
Dance: Ah, you’ll be playing the secretary then, Miss…?
Young Woman: Moore. Deborah Moore.
Dance: But of course you are.
(She leaves, with a smile for the pair of them.)
Waltz: Moore? She wouldn’t be….
Director: Places, everyone, let’s try again.
(Everyone takes their place.)
Director: Okay… action!
Waltz: Good evening, Mr Fle… Bon… er…
Director: Cut! Christoph, I swear you’re the author of all my pain.
Dim memories of that TV movie, here. Charles Dance certainly looked the part, as I recall. Dare I say that the recent Bond-and-Blofeld-are-brothers plot, authoring a lot of pain, is a little TV movie-ish in itself!
Critics and material I don't need. I haven't changed my act in 53 years.
Gymkata, more fun with Pradeep, great to see him again.
Shady, many people don't know there was another Goldeneye, or have forgotten it, or don't realise how many Bond actors (past or future at that point) were in it. At least you have memories!
Yes, Dance was good casting. I did find writing the above a little amusing, since I was typing "Dance...Waltz" repeatedly.
Back in 1995 i never understood the need for that huge satellite dish under a lake. Satellite TV was demonstrating 18" dishes. Even in universe for Goldeneye why was the Cuba dish so much bigger (8 to 10 times the diameter) than Severnaya?
Can't wait until Pradeep gets to tackle the lair from NTTD.
The funeral was held yesterday of Fraulein Heidi Schmidt, well-known local beauty and war veteran. At the ceremony a collection of white backpacks were laid on her coffin for unexplained reasons. Many were in attendance, including war hero Major John Smith, also known as Major Johann Schmidt, and famed author Alistair Maclean. The two were seen struggling to gain possession of the last bottle of Scotch whisky at the wake.
Also spotted was another famous author, Ian Fleming, seen writing down details of the local ski run, cable car, and toboggan run. On being asked if there was any truth to the persistent rumours about him and Fraulein Schmidt, Mr Fleming said….
Smith/Schmidt: Sit DOWN, Colonel. Lieutenant, SIT!
Schaffer: What the hell?!
M (to Bond): Sit down, Double-O Seven.
Von Hapen: Everyone stay where he is! Sit DOWN, General!
Gogol: Sit down, Comrade Orlov! We'll pursue our policies by peaceful means!
Schaffer: Like hell we will!
Smith/Schmidt: Perhaps, Commander, you'd be kind enough to confirm the true contents of that carafe...
Bond: I'd say it's a 30-year-old fine, indifferently blended, with an overdose of bon bois.
M: Major Schmidt is giving the lecture, Double-O Seven.
Smith/Schmidt (guzzling the brandy): Pity about your liver, Admiral. Where was I? (hic!) Oh yes... plot to overthrow the Fuehrer...
Christiansen (sweating): Someone pass that bottle of Mouton Rothschild... (swigs)
Schaffer: Easy does it, Captain... Nice n slow...
Cartwright-Jones (hic): With such high-ranking company, I'd rather have expected a claret...
Kramer (standing): This is preposterous, Corporal! Mouton Rothschild IS a claret...
Von Hapen (downing a quick schnapps): Sit DOWN, Colonel!
Smith/Schmidt: And I've smelt of spirits before! And on every occasion I've smelt a rat... (Casts a meaningful, if slightly unfocussed, sideways glance at Schaffer..)
Schaffer: Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!
Christiansen: Three of us, to be precise! (hic!)
Smith/Schmidt: Get UP all of you! (Staggering unsteadily) MOVE!
Critics and material I don't need. I haven't changed my act in 53 years.
1967. Burt Bacharach sits at his piano, idly composing another masterpiece. His friend and lyricist Hal David enters.
Burt: Hal, have I got news for you!
Hal: What is it? Our last song went to Number One?
Burt: Better than that!
Hal: We’ve won another award?
Burt: Nope! We’re doing the new James Bond movie!
Hal: New James Bond movie? Did John Barry fall sick or something?
Burt: No, he’s fine.
Hal: It’s a great title- “You Only Live Twice”. Boy, am I looking forward to writing the lyric for that one! I could get two different songs out of that title.
Burt: It’s not that one, Hal. There’ll be two James Bond films this year and we’ve got the other one.
Hal: The other one? What’s that called?
Burt: “Casino Royale”.
Hal: Oh, that’s going to be a tough title to make a song from.
Burt Yeah, I know. I thought I’d leave it as an instrumental and get Herb Alpert and his boys to play it.
Hal: Good idea. Doesn’t leave much for me to do, though.
Burt: I’ve already cleared it that we can write a love song for the film. We’re good at those.
Hal: That’s true. I can hardly wait to write it, feel my art around it.
Burt: But this time I’d like us to come up with a stone-cold classic- Oscar material, one that’ll be a standard for years to come.
Hal: You go ahead and write the tune then give me a call- you know my name.
Thanks to Charmed & Dangerous for "I can hardly wait to write it, feel my art around it". Wish I'd thought of that one!
M: So, 007, lots to be done. (Drops a folder on the desk.) Are you ready to get back to work?
Bond: With pleasure, M. With pleasure.
M: Then open this folder.
Bond: But… this is my medical report.
M: Indeed it is. Medical evaluation: fail. Physical evaluation: fail. Psychological evaluation: Alcohol and substance addiction indicated. What else do I see…? Pathological rejection of authority based on unresolved childhood trauma. Did you think we'd conveniently forget all this just because you managed to kill Silva after he killed the previous M?
Bond: But, sir-
M: (Reading.) This officer remains basically physically sound. Unfortunately his mode of life is not such as is likely to allow him to remain in this happy state. Despite many previous warnings, he admits to smoking sixty cigarettes a day. These are of a Balkan mixture with a higher nicotine content than the cheaper varieties. When not engaged upon strenuous duty, the officer's average daily consumption of alcohol is in the region of half a bottle of spirits of between sixty and seventy proof. On examination, there continues to be little definite sign of deterioration. The tongue is furred. The blood pressure a little raised at 160/90. The liver is not palpable. On the other hand, when pressed, the officer admits to frequent occipital headaches and there is spasm in the trapezius muscles and so-called `fibrositis' nodules can be felt. I believe these symptoms to be due to this officer's mode of life. He is not responsive to the suggestion that over-indulgence is no remedy for the tensions inherent in his professional calling and can only result in the creation of a toxic state which could finally have the effect of reducing his fitness as an officer. I recommend that No. 007 should take it easy for two to three weeks on a more abstemious regime, when I believe he would make a complete return to his previous exceptionally high state of physical fitness.
Bond: (Horrified.) You don’t mean…
M: Oh yes. Shrublands. Two to three weeks minimum.
The funeral was held yesterday of Fraulein Heidi Schmidt, well-known local beauty and war veteran. At the ceremony a collection of white backpacks were laid on her coffin for unexplained reasons. Many were in attendance, including war hero Major Johann Schmidt (no relation), also known as Major John Smith, and famed author Alistair Maclean. The two were seen struggling to gain possession of the last bottle of Scotch whisky at the wake.
Fraulein Schmidt's family requested that no garlands of garlic were placed among flowers at the funeral, and that guests' mirrors were left at the Castle doors. The actor Christopher Lee, who attended the funeral alongside step-cousin the famous author Ian Fleming, declined to comment on this unusual provision.
Mr Fleming was seen to be writing down details of the local ski run, cable car, and toboggan run. On being asked if there was any truth to the persistent rumours about him and Fraulein Schmidt, Mr Fleming said….
2015. Q’s lab. He sits at his laptop as James Bond enters.
Q: Bond? What are you doing here?
Bond: Good morning, Q.
Q:I thought you’d gone.
Bond:I have. There’s just one thing I need...
(Outside, Madeleine sits in the DB5. Bond enters, and they smile at each other. He starts the car and they drive off… until the engine starts sputtering.)
Madeleine: What’s that?
Bond: I thought Q put petrol in.
Madeleine: Well, you should have checked.
Bond: I definitely thought he’d given us a full tank.
Madeleine: You definitely should have checked!
(He pulls the slowing car to the side of the road.)
1974. Scaramanga’s junk. Bond has the telephone in one hand and Mary Goodnight in the other.
M: (On phone.) Goodnight? Goodnight?
Bond: Goodnight, sir.
(He hangs up the phone and kisses Goodnight passionately.)
Goodnight: Oh, James…
Bond: Wait a minute- how did he know this number?
(The phone rings again. Bond unhappily answers it.)
Bond: Hello?
M: (On phone.) Bond, what the hell do you mean hanging up on me?
Bond: What the hell do I mean? You’ve had this phone number all along and I had to go to Beirut, fight three toughs, swallow a bullet, go to Macao, damn nearly get shot by Scaramanga-
M: Yes, but-
Bond: ...Nearly drown myself getting to that upside-down liner, get hit on the head by a midget with a trident-
M: Ah yes, but-
Bond: ...Get beaten up by a whole kung fu school, get abandoned by Lt Hip and chased in a boat down a canal, fly a car in a spiral, get my plane blown up-
M: True, though-
Bond: ...And have to duel with the world’s greatest hitman then nearly get fried by a solar beam…. And you had his number the whole time?
M: Yes, but-
Bond: I’m going to take a sabbatical and go to ground…
Another collaboration - thanks to Gymkata, and to Barbel for the best lines:
1964. Auric Stud. Goldfinger and Pussy Galore sit at a table, over mint juleps.
Goldfinger: Your share of Operation Grand Slam will make you a very rich woman, my dear.
Pussy: Why else would I be in it, Mr Goldfinger?
(An assistant approaches them)
Goldfinger Yes, Kisch?
Kisch: (Gesturing over his shoulder.) Two men in a car with binoculars.
Goldfinger: Touts looking for racing tips. (He pauses.) There's another possibility, however. (Pauses again.) Kisch, ask Mr Bond to join us.
(Kisch leaves, and Goldfinger turns once again to Pussy).
Goldfinger: We were right to spare Mr Bond's life in Switzerland, if those gentlemen are his friends. For their benefit, Pussy, let's make him as happy as possible. I suggest you change into something more suitable.
Pussy: Certainly. Business before pleasure. But first, I have a question.
Goldfinger: Yes, Miss Galore?
Pussy: You gassed those gangsters, right? The ones in your games room?
Goldfinger: Indeed, Miss Galore. What fun it was showing them the plan! It was certainly worth all the money that scale model, the sliding floors, the large photograph, all cost. But then after that they were of no further use to me.
Pussy: And you sent Oddjob to shoot Mr Solo, then dispose of his body inside a car which was then crushed in a scrap yard, to be brought back in a pick-up truck?
Goldfinger: You are right again, Pussy. Very observant!
Pussy: Um... why not just gas Mr Solo at the same time as the others? I mean, why go to the trouble of destroying a perfectly good car complete with gold bars that you now have to separate from the car and the late Mr Solo?
Goldfinger: I…..
Pussy: Come to think of it, why not just shoot Solo and bring his body back? Why go to bother of crushing the car at all?
Goldfinger: Ah….
Pussy: Maybe you’re not as smart as you look. More Monty Python than Flying Circus?
Goldfinger: Oddjob! (Oddjob approaches.) Oddjob – perhaps you can explain to Miss Galore? Well?
Oddjob: Ah-ha!
Goldfinger: You see?
Pussy: Of course, thank you for making it clear, Oddjob.
Comments
🤣🤣🤣
An expanded version of my contribution of last week:
SABOTEUR EVADES CAPTURE IN HIGH-SPEED CHASE ALONG THE STRIP
The Las Vegas Police Department is under increasing pressure to explain how its officers managed to total an entire fleet of squad cars yesterday evening at the tail end of a high-speed chase along the Strip, in full view of hundreds of gawping tourists, crashing vehicle after vehicle in a parking lot while allowing their suspect, driving a red Mustang, to escape scot free.
The Sheriff in charge of the pursuit claims to have identified the speeding felon, still at large, as the "sonofabitchin saboteur" behind an incident, earlier yesterday, at Willard Whyte's Tectronics facility in the Nevada Desert. The subversive agitator in question, believed to be British, caused mayhem at the space research center when he wrecked a state-of-the-art moon buggy before hijacking a dune bike.
It's expected that the Chief of Police will need to apply to the City, cap in hand, for emergency funding to replace his crashed squad cars. Meanwhile the Sheriff, suspended from duty with immediate effect, is said to be ready to turn in his badge, having made plans to return to his home in Louisiana and resume his career in law enforcement there, in the relatively quiet environs of the Bayou, well away from "all free radicals."
Sammy Davis Junior was among the many who watched last night's bizarre spectacle from the sidewalk on the Strip. The entertainer quipped, "If you see a mad limey and a moll flip a wheelie through an alley, just smile... there's no birthday cake big enough to put him on top of!"
An anonymous source linked to the infamous Spangled Mob was less impressed. "Some friends of ours aren't too happy with what went down on the Strip last night. A lot of people make a lot of money from the casino business. Any stunt which draws gamblers out onto the sidewalk and away from our roulette tables is bad for business. Certain people are saying they want something done... And as for that *other* limey who's been ripping off our slot machines... I hear Morton Slumber has a vacant casket or two going spare..."
News of yesterday's events is spreading fast. Henry Gupta, a Computer Science graduate at Berkeley, issued this communique on behalf of SPECTRE (Student Protestors Energising Countercultural Tumult and Revolutionary Effort): "Far out, man! You gotta dig that dude who took direct action against the crypto-fascist military-industrial complex by wrecking that Tectronics gig in the desert. Way to go!" Despite Mr Gupta's militant stance he is rumoured to be falling out with fellow student radicals over his apparent eagerness to prime with information and opinion such "bread head" news outlets as this esteemed organ.
Willard Whyte was unavailable for comment.
Las Vegas Sun News.
Filed by visiting apprentice journalist, Elliot Carver, Spring 1971.
It's nice to see where Gupta and Carver started out 😂😂😂
These are just getting better and better 😂😂
Nice references, Shady, tying things together. 👍
even the Spangled Mob was in that one!
Let me see....
DAF the movie, of course, with extra kudos for a deleted scene
DAF the novel
LALD
NSNA
TND
Any more that I missed? The SPECTRE reference I took generally.
That's it, I think. But here's another draft of the last paragraph, to squeeze in a couple more:
News of yesterday's events is spreading fast. Henry Gupta, a Computer Science graduate at Berkeley, issued this communique on behalf of SPECTRE (Student Protestors Energising Countercultural Tumult and Revolutionary Effort): "Far out, man! You gotta dig that dude who took direct action against the crypto-fascist military-industrial complex by wrecking that Tectronics gig in the desert. Way to go! Perhaps there's even a place for him in SPECTRE.... like with that cool 'other fella' who puts a downer on fat cat movie moguls by sporting a hip beard at their square movie premieres!" Despite Mr Gupta's militant stance he is rumoured to be falling out with fellow student radicals over his apparent eagerness to prime with information and opinion such "bread head" news outlets as this esteemed organ.
🙂
Yes, another couple as you say. ☺️
1989. Set of “Goldeneye”. No, the other one.
Christoph Waltz: So nice to meet you, Mr… Bond.
Director: Cut! It’s “Fleming”, Christoph.
Waltz: Oh yes, sorry.
Director: Action!
Waltz: I’ve been expecting you, Mr Bo… er, Fleming.
Director: Cut! Take five, everyone. Christoph, go read the script again and try to get it right.
(Waltz goes to the side and sits with Charles Dance.)
Dance: Having problems, Christoph?
Waltz: Ja! They told me “Ian Fleming… Goldeneye…” and I said yes, of course. I didn’t realise it would be like this! I thought… well, you know what I thought.
Dance: I take it you’re keen to get in a real Bond movie, then?
Waltz: Of course! Aren’t you?
Dance: I’ve been in one already, Christoph.
Waltz: No! Which one?
Dance: “For Your Eyes Only”. I didn't have to be asked twice to play Fleming in this.
Waltz: Yes, well, I thought… Oh never mind.
(An attractive young woman wanders over.)
Dance: Good morning, my dear.
Young Woman: I just came over to say hello, Mr Dance. We have a scene together tomorrow.
Dance: Ah, you’ll be playing the secretary then, Miss…?
Young Woman: Moore. Deborah Moore.
Dance: But of course you are.
(She leaves, with a smile for the pair of them.)
Waltz: Moore? She wouldn’t be….
Director: Places, everyone, let’s try again.
(Everyone takes their place.)
Director: Okay… action!
Waltz: Good evening, Mr Fle… Bon… er…
Director: Cut! Christoph, I swear you’re the author of all my pain.
🙂🙂
Dim memories of that TV movie, here. Charles Dance certainly looked the part, as I recall. Dare I say that the recent Bond-and-Blofeld-are-brothers plot, authoring a lot of pain, is a little TV movie-ish in itself!
Gymkata, more fun with Pradeep, great to see him again.
Shady, many people don't know there was another Goldeneye, or have forgotten it, or don't realise how many Bond actors (past or future at that point) were in it. At least you have memories!
Yes, Dance was good casting. I did find writing the above a little amusing, since I was typing "Dance...Waltz" repeatedly.
Back in 1995 i never understood the need for that huge satellite dish under a lake. Satellite TV was demonstrating 18" dishes. Even in universe for Goldeneye why was the Cuba dish so much bigger (8 to 10 times the diameter) than Severnaya?
Can't wait until Pradeep gets to tackle the lair from NTTD.
After the recent WHERE EAGLES DARE watchalong WHERE EAGLES DARE watchalong Friday 9. July at 8 PM GMT. - Page 11 — ajb007, Gymkata and I got chatting...
1961.
SCHLOSS ADLER SPIEGEL
Local beauty dies.
The funeral was held yesterday of Fraulein Heidi Schmidt, well-known local beauty and war veteran. At the ceremony a collection of white backpacks were laid on her coffin for unexplained reasons. Many were in attendance, including war hero Major John Smith, also known as Major Johann Schmidt, and famed author Alistair Maclean. The two were seen struggling to gain possession of the last bottle of Scotch whisky at the wake.
Also spotted was another famous author, Ian Fleming, seen writing down details of the local ski run, cable car, and toboggan run. On being asked if there was any truth to the persistent rumours about him and Fraulein Schmidt, Mr Fleming said….
(Continued on Page 6)
----------------------------------------------------------------
In other news:
Coils of rope still turning up all around castle: Page 7
Telephone pole replacement finally scheduled for Wednesday: Page 9
Used condom found in woodshed in Alpine cabin: Page 13
🤣🤣🤣
Thank you, Shady, it was all Gymkata's idea.
Smith/Schmidt: Sit DOWN, Colonel. Lieutenant, SIT!
Schaffer: What the hell?!
M (to Bond): Sit down, Double-O Seven.
Von Hapen: Everyone stay where he is! Sit DOWN, General!
Gogol: Sit down, Comrade Orlov! We'll pursue our policies by peaceful means!
Schaffer: Like hell we will!
Smith/Schmidt: Perhaps, Commander, you'd be kind enough to confirm the true contents of that carafe...
Bond: I'd say it's a 30-year-old fine, indifferently blended, with an overdose of bon bois.
M: Major Schmidt is giving the lecture, Double-O Seven.
Smith/Schmidt (guzzling the brandy): Pity about your liver, Admiral. Where was I? (hic!) Oh yes... plot to overthrow the Fuehrer...
Christiansen (sweating): Someone pass that bottle of Mouton Rothschild... (swigs)
Schaffer: Easy does it, Captain... Nice n slow...
Cartwright-Jones (hic): With such high-ranking company, I'd rather have expected a claret...
Kramer (standing): This is preposterous, Corporal! Mouton Rothschild IS a claret...
Von Hapen (downing a quick schnapps): Sit DOWN, Colonel!
Smith/Schmidt: And I've smelt of spirits before! And on every occasion I've smelt a rat... (Casts a meaningful, if slightly unfocussed, sideways glance at Schaffer..)
Schaffer: Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!
Christiansen: Three of us, to be precise! (hic!)
Smith/Schmidt: Get UP all of you! (Staggering unsteadily) MOVE!
😁 in-joke upon in-joke!
These are both brilliant !!
1967. Burt Bacharach sits at his piano, idly composing another masterpiece. His friend and lyricist Hal David enters.
Burt: Hal, have I got news for you!
Hal: What is it? Our last song went to Number One?
Burt: Better than that!
Hal: We’ve won another award?
Burt: Nope! We’re doing the new James Bond movie!
Hal: New James Bond movie? Did John Barry fall sick or something?
Burt: No, he’s fine.
Hal: It’s a great title- “You Only Live Twice”. Boy, am I looking forward to writing the lyric for that one! I could get two different songs out of that title.
Burt: It’s not that one, Hal. There’ll be two James Bond films this year and we’ve got the other one.
Hal: The other one? What’s that called?
Burt: “Casino Royale”.
Hal: Oh, that’s going to be a tough title to make a song from.
Burt Yeah, I know. I thought I’d leave it as an instrumental and get Herb Alpert and his boys to play it.
Hal: Good idea. Doesn’t leave much for me to do, though.
Burt: I’ve already cleared it that we can write a love song for the film. We’re good at those.
Hal: That’s true. I can hardly wait to write it, feel my art around it.
Burt: But this time I’d like us to come up with a stone-cold classic- Oscar material, one that’ll be a standard for years to come.
Hal: You go ahead and write the tune then give me a call- you know my name.
Thanks to Charmed & Dangerous for "I can hardly wait to write it, feel my art around it". Wish I'd thought of that one!
2012. M’s Office. M’s arm is in a sling.
M: So, 007, lots to be done. (Drops a folder on the desk.) Are you ready to get back to work?
Bond: With pleasure, M. With pleasure.
M: Then open this folder.
Bond: But… this is my medical report.
M: Indeed it is. Medical evaluation: fail. Physical evaluation: fail. Psychological evaluation: Alcohol and substance addiction indicated. What else do I see…? Pathological rejection of authority based on unresolved childhood trauma. Did you think we'd conveniently forget all this just because you managed to kill Silva after he killed the previous M?
Bond: But, sir-
M: (Reading.) This officer remains basically physically sound. Unfortunately his mode of life is not such as is likely to allow him to remain in this happy state. Despite many previous warnings, he admits to smoking sixty cigarettes a day. These are of a Balkan mixture with a higher nicotine content than the cheaper varieties. When not engaged upon strenuous duty, the officer's average daily consumption of alcohol is in the region of half a bottle of spirits of between sixty and seventy proof. On examination, there continues to be little definite sign of deterioration. The tongue is furred. The blood pressure a little raised at 160/90. The liver is not palpable. On the other hand, when pressed, the officer admits to frequent occipital headaches and there is spasm in the trapezius muscles and so-called `fibrositis' nodules can be felt. I believe these symptoms to be due to this officer's mode of life. He is not responsive to the suggestion that over-indulgence is no remedy for the tensions inherent in his professional calling and can only result in the creation of a toxic state which could finally have the effect of reducing his fitness as an officer. I recommend that No. 007 should take it easy for two to three weeks on a more abstemious regime, when I believe he would make a complete return to his previous exceptionally high state of physical fitness.
Bond: (Horrified.) You don’t mean…
M: Oh yes. Shrublands. Two to three weeks minimum.
Those damn' free radicals again.... 😂😂😂 Nicely done Barbel!
1961.
SCHLOSS ADLER SPIEGEL Late edition
Local beauty dies.
The funeral was held yesterday of Fraulein Heidi Schmidt, well-known local beauty and war veteran. At the ceremony a collection of white backpacks were laid on her coffin for unexplained reasons. Many were in attendance, including war hero Major Johann Schmidt (no relation), also known as Major John Smith, and famed author Alistair Maclean. The two were seen struggling to gain possession of the last bottle of Scotch whisky at the wake.
Fraulein Schmidt's family requested that no garlands of garlic were placed among flowers at the funeral, and that guests' mirrors were left at the Castle doors. The actor Christopher Lee, who attended the funeral alongside step-cousin the famous author Ian Fleming, declined to comment on this unusual provision.
Mr Fleming was seen to be writing down details of the local ski run, cable car, and toboggan run. On being asked if there was any truth to the persistent rumours about him and Fraulein Schmidt, Mr Fleming said….
(Continued on Page 6)
----------------------------------------------------------------
In other news:
Coils of rope still turning up all around castle: Page 3
Telephone pole replacement finally scheduled for Wednesday: Page 9
Used condom found in woodshed in Alpine cabin: Page 13
Report by Barbel & Gymkata. Added reporting for late edition by Charmed & Dangerous.
I did think of using the lines from NSNA but the Fleming quote was very long so I left it as is.
2015. Q’s lab. He sits at his laptop as James Bond enters.
Q: Bond? What are you doing here?
Bond: Good morning, Q.
Q: I thought you’d gone.
Bond: I have. There’s just one thing I need...
(Outside, Madeleine sits in the DB5. Bond enters, and they smile at each other. He starts the car and they drive off… until the engine starts sputtering.)
Madeleine: What’s that?
Bond: I thought Q put petrol in.
Madeleine: Well, you should have checked.
Bond: I definitely thought he’d given us a full tank.
Madeleine: You definitely should have checked!
(He pulls the slowing car to the side of the road.)
Bond: You wait here, I’ll go find a garage.
Madeleine: Well, don’t be long.
Bond: I’ll try.
(A parking warden walks up.)
Warden: This your car, sir?
Bond: Yes, but-
Warden: Well, I’m afraid you can’t park here.
Bond: But I’m not-
(The warden pulls out his notebook.)
Warden: I’m afraid I’ll have to book you, sir.
Bond: But-
(The James Bond Theme plays as the credits roll.)
It's a thought, but doing it this way gives more context.
1974. Scaramanga’s junk. Bond has the telephone in one hand and Mary Goodnight in the other.
M: (On phone.) Goodnight? Goodnight?
Bond: Goodnight, sir.
(He hangs up the phone and kisses Goodnight passionately.)
Goodnight: Oh, James…
Bond: Wait a minute- how did he know this number?
(The phone rings again. Bond unhappily answers it.)
Bond: Hello?
M: (On phone.) Bond, what the hell do you mean hanging up on me?
Bond: What the hell do I mean? You’ve had this phone number all along and I had to go to Beirut, fight three toughs, swallow a bullet, go to Macao, damn nearly get shot by Scaramanga-
M: Yes, but-
Bond: ...Nearly drown myself getting to that upside-down liner, get hit on the head by a midget with a trident-
M: Ah yes, but-
Bond: ...Get beaten up by a whole kung fu school, get abandoned by Lt Hip and chased in a boat down a canal, fly a car in a spiral, get my plane blown up-
M: True, though-
Bond: ...And have to duel with the world’s greatest hitman then nearly get fried by a solar beam…. And you had his number the whole time?
M: Yes, but-
Bond: I’m going to take a sabbatical and go to ground…
(He hangs up.)
😀😀😀 Ssh, we're not supposed to mention plot armour.....
😂😂😂 A lot can happen in two minutes...
Another collaboration - thanks to Gymkata, and to Barbel for the best lines:
1964. Auric Stud. Goldfinger and Pussy Galore sit at a table, over mint juleps.
Goldfinger: Your share of Operation Grand Slam will make you a very rich woman, my dear.
Pussy: Why else would I be in it, Mr Goldfinger?
(An assistant approaches them)
Goldfinger Yes, Kisch?
Kisch: (Gesturing over his shoulder.) Two men in a car with binoculars.
Goldfinger: Touts looking for racing tips. (He pauses.) There's another possibility, however. (Pauses again.) Kisch, ask Mr Bond to join us.
(Kisch leaves, and Goldfinger turns once again to Pussy).
Goldfinger: We were right to spare Mr Bond's life in Switzerland, if those gentlemen are his friends. For their benefit, Pussy, let's make him as happy as possible. I suggest you change into something more suitable.
Pussy: Certainly. Business before pleasure. But first, I have a question.
Goldfinger: Yes, Miss Galore?
Pussy: You gassed those gangsters, right? The ones in your games room?
Goldfinger: Indeed, Miss Galore. What fun it was showing them the plan! It was certainly worth all the money that scale model, the sliding floors, the large photograph, all cost. But then after that they were of no further use to me.
Pussy: And you sent Oddjob to shoot Mr Solo, then dispose of his body inside a car which was then crushed in a scrap yard, to be brought back in a pick-up truck?
Goldfinger: You are right again, Pussy. Very observant!
Pussy: Um... why not just gas Mr Solo at the same time as the others? I mean, why go to the trouble of destroying a perfectly good car complete with gold bars that you now have to separate from the car and the late Mr Solo?
Goldfinger: I…..
Pussy: Come to think of it, why not just shoot Solo and bring his body back? Why go to bother of crushing the car at all?
Goldfinger: Ah….
Pussy: Maybe you’re not as smart as you look. More Monty Python than Flying Circus?
Goldfinger: Oddjob! (Oddjob approaches.) Oddjob – perhaps you can explain to Miss Galore? Well?
Oddjob: Ah-ha!
Goldfinger: You see?
Pussy: Of course, thank you for making it clear, Oddjob.
Barbel, Gymkata, C&D - thank you for your continued entries on this thread, they are fantastic 😂😂😂