Hey guys, have you seen this post? It's really funny, even borderline brilliant! Its only fault is the complete lack of femme fatales. In fact it's so good I'm surprised the authors haven't tried in any way remind us of its existence. They are equally modest and Nobel Prize worthy poets 🎊
I was really worried for the editor, hopefully he recovered quickly. The director should have discovered the editor was sick, but many suspect Forester was even sicker.
First Officer: Captain, the men have sent the Chief Petty Officer to see you on their behalf.
Captain: They have? Show him in, Number One.
(The First Officer shows in the CPO. Salutes are exchanged.)
Captain: Well, what is it, Chief Petty Officer?
CPO: Well, sir, the men have asked me to have a word with you.
Captain: Yes, what about?
CPO: We’ve been at sea now for nine months, sir.
Captain: Yes, of course.
CPO: Nine months without putting into a port.
Captain: Indeed, that’s true.
CPO: Without putting into a port, sir…
Captain: I know this, I’m the Captain, of course I know this. What’s your point, Chief Petty Officer?
CPO: It’s the men, sir. They’re becoming a bit ...er… restless.
Captain: Restless?
CPO: Aye sir, they are… how can I put this… missing the comforts of port.
Captain: Well, give them a ration of port in place of their ration of rum, if that’s what they’re after.
CPO: No, sir, it’s not that.
Captain: They’ve got their tobacco ration, haven’t they?
First Officer: Yes, sir.
Captain: And they’re receiving their beer every weekend?
First Officer: Yes, sir.
Captain: Is it spirits they’re after? I’ll allow them one shot of whisky or vodka each but no more than that!
CPO: No, sir, it’s… something they can only get in port, if you see what I mean.
Captain: Drugs, is it? Now I won’t allow that! There’ll be no drug-taking on my ship!
CPO: No sir, of course not. They are …. um… missing the touch of a good woman.
Captain: (Light dawning.) Ah!
CPO: Are you with me now, sir?
Captain: Yes, yes, I see what you mean. Very well, I’ll bring it up with Mr Stromberg this very day.
CPO: (Surprised.) Mr Stromberg is here, onboard?
Captain: He is. Why not?
CPO: Well, it’s just that he wasn’t onboard when we picked up the Russian submarine, or the British one. What’s different this time?
Captain: That’s not your concern, is it, Chief Petty Officer? Now, I-
(There are three warning blasts then a voice over the internal loudspeakers.)
Voice: Attention all crew! Attention all crew! American submarine detected ahead, repeat American submarine detected ahead. All hands to stations, all hands to stations.
Captain: We’ll talk more later, Chief Petty Officer- it’s time for work!
With much affection to CoolHandBond, who no doubt has first-hand knowledge of similar situations, and freely adapted from Monty Python.
1972 A shop in London. The sign says “Purveyor Of Spy Books To The Gentry And The Poverty Stricken Too”. Underneath another sign in smaller print reads “Licenced For Public Music”. A guitarist plays in a corner, while two men dance. The owner stands expectantly behind the counter while John Cleese walks in.
Owner: Good morning, sir.
JC: Good morning. I was just enjoying the attributes of one of the finer brands of cheese when suddenly I was struck by the thought that a highly fictionalised version of one of the more arcane branches of government service might serve as the perfect accompaniment to my culinary adventures at this exact moment in time.
Owner: Come again?
JC: I want to buy a spy book.
Owner: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the music!
JC: Heaven forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the terpsichorean muse.
Owner: Sorry?
JC: I like a nice tune. Now my good man, a spy book, please.
Owner: Yes certainly, sir. What would you like?
JC: Well, how about a little Len Deighton?
Owner: I'm afraid we're fresh out of Deighton, sir.
JC: Oh, never mind. How are you on Buchan?
Owner: Never at the end of the week, sir. Always get that first thing on Monday.
JC: Tish tish. No matter. Well, an Alistair Maclean, then, if you please, stout yeoman.
Owner: Ah well, it's been on order for two weeks, sir, I was expecting it this morning.
JC: Yes, it's not my day, is it? Er, Graham Greene?
Owner: Sorry.
JC: Eric Van Lustbader?
Owner: Normally, sir, yes, but today the van broke down.
JC: Ah. Adam Hall?
Owner: Sorry.
JC: George Markstein?
Owner: No.
JC: Donald Hamilton?
Owner: Ah! We do have some Hamilton, sir.
JC: You do! Excellent.
Owner: It's a bit tatty, sir.
JC: Oh, I like it tatty.
Owner: Well as a matter of fact it's very tatty, sir.
JC: No matter. No matter. Hand over an adventure of Mr Helm at once, please.
Owner: I think it's tattier than you’d like it, sir.
JC: (Smiling grimly.) I don't care how [censored] tatty it is, hand it over.
Owner: Yes, sir. (Bends below counter and reappears.) Oh...
JC: What?
Owner: The cat's eaten it.
JC: Has he?
Owner: She, sir.
JC: You do have some spy books, don't you?
Owner: Certainly, sir. It's a spy book shop, sir. We've got...
JC: No, no, no, don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
Owner: Fair enough.
JC: Le Carre.
Owner: Yes, sir?
JC: Splendid. Well, I'll have one of his then, please.
Owner: Oh, I'm sorry sir, I thought you were referring to me, Mr Le Carre.
(JC glares at him. The music gets louder.)
JC: Well let's keep it simple, how about Ian Fleming?
Owner: Well, I'm afraid we don't get much call for his work around these parts.
JC: Not much call for him? He's the single most popular spy author in the world!
Owner: Not round these parts, sir.
JC And pray who is the most popular spy author round these parts?
Owner: John Gardner.
JC: I see.
Owner: Yes, sir. He’s quite staggeringly popular in this manor, squire.
JC: Really.
Owner: Yes sir, he's our number-one seller.
JC: Is he.
Owner: Yes sir.
JC: John Gardner, eh?
Owner: Right.
JC: OK, I'm game. Have you got any, he asked, expecting the answer no?
Owner: I'll have a look, sir...nnnnnnooooooooo.
JC: It's not much of a spy book shop really, is it?
Owner: Finest in the district, sir.
JC: And what leads you to that conclusion?
Owner: Well, it's so clean.
JC: Well, it's certainly uncontaminated by spy books.
Owner: You haven't asked me about Michael Avallone sir.
JC: Is it worth it?
Owner: Could be.
JC: OK, have you... will you shut that bloody dancing up! (The music stops.)
Owner: (To dancers.) Told you so.
JC: Have you got any Avallone?
Owner: No.
JC: No, that figures. It was pretty predictable, really. It was an act of purest optimism to pose the question in the first place. Tell me something, do you have any spy books at all?
Owner: Yes, sir.
JC: Now I'm going to ask you that question once more, and if you say 'no' I'm going to shoot you through the head. Now, do you have any spy books at all?
Owner: No.
JC: (Shoots him.) What a senseless waste of human life.
For anyone wondering what on earth was going on there, have a look at this classic Monty Python sketch:
Number One: Our rules are very simple. If you fail… (Morzeny kicks Kronsteen with the poisoned blade in his boot. Number One watches a confused Kronsteen die.) Twelve seconds. One day we must invent a faster working venom. Number Three!
Klebb: (Terrified.) Yes, Number One?
Number One: I do not wish to tell the Russians there will be a further delay.
Klebb: There will be no delay, Number One.
Number One: I am therefore sending you and Morzeny here to Venice to retrieve the Lektor and deal with James Bond.
Morzeny: (Smiling faintly at Klebb.) Venice…
Number One: You will not be together, Morzeny. (Morzeny’s smile disappears.) Number Three will be in the hotel where Bond and Romanova will be booked, but first you will lead our fleet of ships against him. Do I make myself clear?
Morzeny: Perfectly clear, Number One.
Number One: And Morzeny, take off those boots and give them to Number Three. She may need them.
Morzeny: (Confused.) My boots, Number One?
Number One: Yes, those boots with the concealed poisoned blade. She may need them later.
Klebb: But Morzeny, which size shoe do you take?
Morzeny: I take a size 46.
Klebb: And I only take a size 35. How can I wear the same boots? They will flip-flop from my feet like a clown’s!
Number One: Stuff them with newspaper or something.
Klebb: Yes, Number One, but you see-
Number One: Out!
(Klebb leaves instantly, with Morzeny hopping behind her while trying to take off a boot.)
I feel that's another company that used to delivery better products. By now they should have learned not to use highly combustible building materials and have sprinkles as part of the standard package.
Karen: There’s nothing here but playboys and tennis pros.
Sharon: Hey, wait a minute- don’t turn round, Karen, but you should see this dream that just walked in.
Karen: Tell me!
Sharon He’s so handsome, and well-dressed too!
Karen: Well-dressed?
Sharon: Yes, he’s wearing a gorgeous tuxedo, a white shirt and a black bow-tie!
Karen: Tuxedo…?
Sharon: He’s talking to the barman…. The barman is-
Karen: Don’t tell me- he’s making a drink in a shaker?
Sharon: That’s right. How did you know that?
Karen: I know who he is. Sharon, trust me, you don’t want to get involved with him.
Sharon: Oh, I’d love to get involved with him.
Karen: No, seriously. I’ve heard so many stories.
Sharon: Like what?
Karen: His girlfriends never last too long- one got covered in gold paint, one drowned in an elevator-
Sharon: Drowned in an elevator? How do you manage that?
Karen: Don’t know, but that’s what I heard. Another got shoved out of a hotel window, one blew up near a mine, one got shot in the back while dancing...
Sharon: Don’t care, I’m moving in.
Karen: It’s your funeral.
Sharon: I hope he’s got a car.
Karen: Oh, the car! Yes, he has a car and it’s beautiful. Just one thing though…
Sharon: What’s that?
Karen: Don’t touch his gearstick...
Sharon: Touching his gearstick is very much what I had in mind!
Karen: I wouldn’t do that- you might suffer from premature ejection.
Russian General Leonid Pushkin, here in Tangier as part of a North African Trade Convention, was yesterday the subject of a diabolical assassination plot. Despite being plied with several bullets from an unidentified assassin, the General made a miraculous recovery.
Local police pursued the alleged assassin through washing lines and carpets but were unfortunately unsuccessful.
A close associate of General Pushkin, девушка Rubavitch (pictured), said…
Comments
😁😁😁
Hey guys, have you seen this post? It's really funny, even borderline brilliant! Its only fault is the complete lack of femme fatales. In fact it's so good I'm surprised the authors haven't tried in any way remind us of its existence. They are equally modest and Nobel Prize worthy poets 🎊
😗😂😂😂
Very true and very funny, love it, especially about the editor!
To Jack White- "We've all heard it, and oh no you can't" or "How did it take that long?" or "Is that what you call it?" or...
(Continued Page 6)
I was really worried for the editor, hopefully he recovered quickly. The director should have discovered the editor was sick, but many suspect Forester was even sicker.
Ha, nicely observed, Gymkata! 😂😂😂
26th May 2021. The Broccoli limousine arrives at a darkened building. Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli disembark and enter the building.
BB: What do you think this is, Michael?
MGW: I don’t know, the message just said it was important and we had to be here.
BB: You don’t think it’s Lee Tamahori again, up to his tricks?
MGW: No, it doesn’t sound like one of his ideas- no CGI, for example, this is a real building.
(They enter a lift and rise to their designated floor.)
MGW: It might be Pierce trying to get us on our own?
BB: No, not him.
MGW: Now… I think it’s this room here.
(They open the door and enter. A chair swivels round to reveal a bald man, stroking a cat.)
BB/MGW: Jeff Bezos!!!
Bezos: Come in, Mr Bond. I have been expecting you.
😳😂😂 Now there's a thought...
I hope Bezos will allow Tanner, Q, Moneypenny and the 00-branch to join a union..... 😏
1977 The Liparus
First Officer: Captain, the men have sent the Chief Petty Officer to see you on their behalf.
Captain: They have? Show him in, Number One.
(The First Officer shows in the CPO. Salutes are exchanged.)
Captain: Well, what is it, Chief Petty Officer?
CPO: Well, sir, the men have asked me to have a word with you.
Captain: Yes, what about?
CPO: We’ve been at sea now for nine months, sir.
Captain: Yes, of course.
CPO: Nine months without putting into a port.
Captain: Indeed, that’s true.
CPO: Without putting into a port, sir…
Captain: I know this, I’m the Captain, of course I know this. What’s your point, Chief Petty Officer?
CPO: It’s the men, sir. They’re becoming a bit ...er… restless.
Captain: Restless?
CPO: Aye sir, they are… how can I put this… missing the comforts of port.
Captain: Well, give them a ration of port in place of their ration of rum, if that’s what they’re after.
CPO: No, sir, it’s not that.
Captain: They’ve got their tobacco ration, haven’t they?
First Officer: Yes, sir.
Captain: And they’re receiving their beer every weekend?
First Officer: Yes, sir.
Captain: Is it spirits they’re after? I’ll allow them one shot of whisky or vodka each but no more than that!
CPO: No, sir, it’s… something they can only get in port, if you see what I mean.
Captain: Drugs, is it? Now I won’t allow that! There’ll be no drug-taking on my ship!
CPO: No sir, of course not. They are …. um… missing the touch of a good woman.
Captain: (Light dawning.) Ah!
CPO: Are you with me now, sir?
Captain: Yes, yes, I see what you mean. Very well, I’ll bring it up with Mr Stromberg this very day.
CPO: (Surprised.) Mr Stromberg is here, onboard?
Captain: He is. Why not?
CPO: Well, it’s just that he wasn’t onboard when we picked up the Russian submarine, or the British one. What’s different this time?
Captain: That’s not your concern, is it, Chief Petty Officer? Now, I-
(There are three warning blasts then a voice over the internal loudspeakers.)
Voice: Attention all crew! Attention all crew! American submarine detected ahead, repeat American submarine detected ahead. All hands to stations, all hands to stations.
Captain: We’ll talk more later, Chief Petty Officer- it’s time for work!
With much affection to CoolHandBond, who no doubt has first-hand knowledge of similar situations, and freely adapted from Monty Python.
1972 A shop in London. The sign says “Purveyor Of Spy Books To The Gentry And The Poverty Stricken Too”. Underneath another sign in smaller print reads “Licenced For Public Music”. A guitarist plays in a corner, while two men dance. The owner stands expectantly behind the counter while John Cleese walks in.
Owner: Good morning, sir.
JC: Good morning. I was just enjoying the attributes of one of the finer brands of cheese when suddenly I was struck by the thought that a highly fictionalised version of one of the more arcane branches of government service might serve as the perfect accompaniment to my culinary adventures at this exact moment in time.
Owner: Come again?
JC: I want to buy a spy book.
Owner: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the music!
JC: Heaven forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the terpsichorean muse.
Owner: Sorry?
JC: I like a nice tune. Now my good man, a spy book, please.
Owner: Yes certainly, sir. What would you like?
JC: Well, how about a little Len Deighton?
Owner: I'm afraid we're fresh out of Deighton, sir.
JC: Oh, never mind. How are you on Buchan?
Owner: Never at the end of the week, sir. Always get that first thing on Monday.
JC: Tish tish. No matter. Well, an Alistair Maclean, then, if you please, stout yeoman.
Owner: Ah well, it's been on order for two weeks, sir, I was expecting it this morning.
JC: Yes, it's not my day, is it? Er, Graham Greene?
Owner: Sorry.
JC: Eric Van Lustbader?
Owner: Normally, sir, yes, but today the van broke down.
JC: Ah. Adam Hall?
Owner: Sorry.
JC: George Markstein?
Owner: No.
JC: Donald Hamilton?
Owner: Ah! We do have some Hamilton, sir.
JC: You do! Excellent.
Owner: It's a bit tatty, sir.
JC: Oh, I like it tatty.
Owner: Well as a matter of fact it's very tatty, sir.
JC: No matter. No matter. Hand over an adventure of Mr Helm at once, please.
Owner: I think it's tattier than you’d like it, sir.
JC: (Smiling grimly.) I don't care how [censored] tatty it is, hand it over.
Owner: Yes, sir. (Bends below counter and reappears.) Oh...
JC: What?
Owner: The cat's eaten it.
JC: Has he?
Owner: She, sir.
JC: You do have some spy books, don't you?
Owner: Certainly, sir. It's a spy book shop, sir. We've got...
JC: No, no, no, don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
Owner: Fair enough.
JC: Le Carre.
Owner: Yes, sir?
JC: Splendid. Well, I'll have one of his then, please.
Owner: Oh, I'm sorry sir, I thought you were referring to me, Mr Le Carre.
(JC glares at him. The music gets louder.)
JC: Well let's keep it simple, how about Ian Fleming?
Owner: Well, I'm afraid we don't get much call for his work around these parts.
JC: Not much call for him? He's the single most popular spy author in the world!
Owner: Not round these parts, sir.
JC And pray who is the most popular spy author round these parts?
Owner: John Gardner.
JC: I see.
Owner: Yes, sir. He’s quite staggeringly popular in this manor, squire.
JC: Really.
Owner: Yes sir, he's our number-one seller.
JC: Is he.
Owner: Yes sir.
JC: John Gardner, eh?
Owner: Right.
JC: OK, I'm game. Have you got any, he asked, expecting the answer no?
Owner: I'll have a look, sir...nnnnnnooooooooo.
JC: It's not much of a spy book shop really, is it?
Owner: Finest in the district, sir.
JC: And what leads you to that conclusion?
Owner: Well, it's so clean.
JC: Well, it's certainly uncontaminated by spy books.
Owner: You haven't asked me about Michael Avallone sir.
JC: Is it worth it?
Owner: Could be.
JC: OK, have you... will you shut that bloody dancing up! (The music stops.)
Owner: (To dancers.) Told you so.
JC: Have you got any Avallone?
Owner: No.
JC: No, that figures. It was pretty predictable, really. It was an act of purest optimism to pose the question in the first place. Tell me something, do you have any spy books at all?
Owner: Yes, sir.
JC: Now I'm going to ask you that question once more, and if you say 'no' I'm going to shoot you through the head. Now, do you have any spy books at all?
Owner: No.
JC: (Shoots him.) What a senseless waste of human life.
For anyone wondering what on earth was going on there, have a look at this classic Monty Python sketch:
Monty Python- Cheese Shop - YouTube
but perhaps they have Ethel the Aardvark goes Quantum Surveilling ?
1963 The yacht of SPECTRE Number One.
Number One: Our rules are very simple. If you fail… (Morzeny kicks Kronsteen with the poisoned blade in his boot. Number One watches a confused Kronsteen die.) Twelve seconds. One day we must invent a faster working venom. Number Three!
Klebb: (Terrified.) Yes, Number One?
Number One: I do not wish to tell the Russians there will be a further delay.
Klebb: There will be no delay, Number One.
Number One: I am therefore sending you and Morzeny here to Venice to retrieve the Lektor and deal with James Bond.
Morzeny: (Smiling faintly at Klebb.) Venice…
Number One: You will not be together, Morzeny. (Morzeny’s smile disappears.) Number Three will be in the hotel where Bond and Romanova will be booked, but first you will lead our fleet of ships against him. Do I make myself clear?
Morzeny: Perfectly clear, Number One.
Number One: And Morzeny, take off those boots and give them to Number Three. She may need them.
Morzeny: (Confused.) My boots, Number One?
Number One: Yes, those boots with the concealed poisoned blade. She may need them later.
Klebb: But Morzeny, which size shoe do you take?
Morzeny: I take a size 46.
Klebb: And I only take a size 35. How can I wear the same boots? They will flip-flop from my feet like a clown’s!
Number One: Stuff them with newspaper or something.
Klebb: Yes, Number One, but you see-
Number One: Out!
(Klebb leaves instantly, with Morzeny hopping behind her while trying to take off a boot.)
You guys have been very busy!! (The autocorrect inisted on changing the last word to "busty" 😂)
It's just me, N24, though there is a joint project coming soon.
And thanks, Gymkata!
Oh yes, I see it's just you now. Even though with all the imaginary conversations in your head there can't be such a thing as "just" you. 😏
A few, somewhat obscure, books that were in that bookshop.
“The Burt Saxby Book Of James Bond In-Jokes”
“Listening To James Bond Without Earmuffs” by J. Lennon, P. McCartney, G. Harrison, and R. Starkey
“Peace, Love & Understanding” by Jill St John. Foreword by Lana Wood.
“Credit Where Credit’s Due” by Monty Norman
“Proust For Beginners” by Madeleine Swann
I love the bookshop sketch, Barbel, I’d forgotten that Monty Python sketch, mind you, I could do a whole thread on REAL conversations in a bookshop 😂
I'm sure you could! Very glad you liked it!
NEW!
**SOLACE BRAND OIL**
“Keep you going at least 20 miles”
Recommended by car mechanics! Quantum mechanics! Satanic mechanics!
Available in all florists everywhere.
Comes in green, white or slate colours.
Now in strawberry flavour!
😂😂😂😂 Solid gold!
Gymkata, that's hilarious! 😆😆😆😆
I wonder if Henchmen Incorporated hired out Elvis with a hefty discount?
"He can't really fight, no..... but he can look at people in a way that's quite odd. No, wait! Elvis is hillarious because he's got a hairpiece." 😂
I feel that's another company that used to delivery better products. By now they should have learned not to use highly combustible building materials and have sprinkles as part of the standard package.
Are their products insured? 🤔
A nightclub, anywhere.
Sharon: Oh it’s all so boring here, Karen.
Karen: There’s nothing here but playboys and tennis pros.
Sharon: Hey, wait a minute- don’t turn round, Karen, but you should see this dream that just walked in.
Karen: Tell me!
Sharon He’s so handsome, and well-dressed too!
Karen: Well-dressed?
Sharon: Yes, he’s wearing a gorgeous tuxedo, a white shirt and a black bow-tie!
Karen: Tuxedo…?
Sharon: He’s talking to the barman…. The barman is-
Karen: Don’t tell me- he’s making a drink in a shaker?
Sharon: That’s right. How did you know that?
Karen: I know who he is. Sharon, trust me, you don’t want to get involved with him.
Sharon: Oh, I’d love to get involved with him.
Karen: No, seriously. I’ve heard so many stories.
Sharon: Like what?
Karen: His girlfriends never last too long- one got covered in gold paint, one drowned in an elevator-
Sharon: Drowned in an elevator? How do you manage that?
Karen: Don’t know, but that’s what I heard. Another got shoved out of a hotel window, one blew up near a mine, one got shot in the back while dancing...
Sharon: Don’t care, I’m moving in.
Karen: It’s your funeral.
Sharon: I hope he’s got a car.
Karen: Oh, the car! Yes, he has a car and it’s beautiful. Just one thing though…
Sharon: What’s that?
Karen: Don’t touch his gearstick...
Sharon: Touching his gearstick is very much what I had in mind!
Karen: I wouldn’t do that- you might suffer from premature ejection.
Yes, I should have mentioned that-
Karen: Oh, the car! Yes, it's beautiful, but there's only one tune ever plays on the stereo. And one thing you should know...
Sharon: What's that?
Karen: Don't touch his gearstick!
Sharon: Touching his gearstick is very much what I have in mind!
Karen: I wouldn't do that- you might suffer from premature ejection!
🤣🤣🤣
"Killing them all when the project is complete will definitely need some negotiation with the union management."
🤣🤣🤣
I think I detect the voice of experience here. 😁
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Especially for Gymkata-
1987
TANGIER TIMES
Russian delegate makes miraculous recovery#
Russian General Leonid Pushkin, here in Tangier as part of a North African Trade Convention, was yesterday the subject of a diabolical assassination plot. Despite being plied with several bullets from an unidentified assassin, the General made a miraculous recovery.
Local police pursued the alleged assassin through washing lines and carpets but were unfortunately unsuccessful.
A close associate of General Pushkin, девушка Rubavitch (pictured), said…
(Continued On Page 6)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news:
Flying carpet spotted above Tangier- Page 3
Cello case found in Bratislava phone box- Page 4