Another call for collaborators to help write a Christmas special (not necessarily a pantomime). So far N24 and I have a vague plan but I'd like volunteers to do, say, one assigned scene each then I tie it all together - as we have done before.
1970. The College Of Arms, London. Sir Hilary Bray sits at his desk, happily comparing the brass rubbings he made in Northern France at the end of the year before. There is a knock on the door, and his secretary enters.
Secretary: A young lady to see you, Sir Hilary.
Sir Hilary: Young lady?
Secretary: Yes, sir. A Miss Bartlett. She does have an appointment.
Sir Hilary: Oh very well, show her in.
(The secretary shows in an attractive young lady.)
Sir Hilary: Now, then, what can I-
Miss Bartlett: Hilly!
(She runs across the room then stops in front of his desk, now that she can have a closer look. She appears confused.)
Sir Hilary: I don’t understand, what is it-
Miss Bartlett: Where’s Hilly?
Sir Hilary: Er, Hilly?
Miss Bartlett: Sir Hilary Bray! I must see him, at once!
Sir Hilary: My dear madam, I am Sir Hilary Bray. Now, what is it that-
Miss Bartlett: You’re not Sir Hilary! Where is he?
(She begins to look around, opening doors, moving curtains, etc.)
Sir Hilary: I most certainly am Sir Hilary Bray!
Miss Bartlett: Well, you sound like him, I’ll give you that, but you do not look like him- not a thing like him!
Sir Hilary: What makes you think that I am not Sir Hilary?
Miss Bartlett: Because I met you- I mean him- in Switzerland last year.
Sir Hilary: (Now he understands.) Ah, er, Switzerland, you say?
Miss Bartlett: Yes, in a clinic on top of a mountain. We became, ah, very friendly.
Sir Hilary: (Knowing he can’t give anything away.) A clinic, you say?
Miss Bartlett: Yes, I was there to be cured of my allergy. I used to hate chicken- used to make me break out. It was all over. You’d be surprised where.
Sir Hilary: And you’re cured from this now, Miss Bartlett?
Miss Bartlett: Call me Ruby.
Sir Hilary: Yes, of course, Ruby.
Ruby: Oh, completely cured. My family’s got a chicken farm and every time I did something on it I nearly died. (A faraway look comes into her eyes, and her voice becomes robotic.) But that is all over now. I love chickens. I love their flesh, their voice.
Sir Hilary: Ruby?
Ruby: (Coming back to normal.) Oh yes, sorry.
Sir Hilary: Perhaps you could make enquiries at this clinic you mention?
Ruby: I tried! But it’s not there any more- it blew up!
Sir Hilary: Blew up? (He knows perfectly well who was behind that.) That’s terrible!
Ruby: So you see, this is the only place I could go! I have to find him- I have to find him quickly!
Sir Hilary: How quickly?
Ruby: I’ve only got a few months.
Sir Hilary: What? You’re going to die?
Ruby: No, of course not. I mean I’ve only got a few months before… you know… (She pats her abdomen.)
Sir Hilary: Oh! Yes, I see. But I’m afraid I cannot help you, Miss Ba- er, Ruby. As you can see, I am not the man you met on top of a mountain in Switzerland.
Ruby: (Dismayed.) Yes, I know. Well, thanks anyway. (She turns to go then a thought strikes her.) Sir Hilary?
Sir Hilary: Yes, my dear?
Ruby: If it's a boy, do you mind if I name him "Hilary"?
Sir Hilary: No, no, of course not. What if it's a girl?
Ruby: Oh, I'll still name her Hilary.
(She walks to the door sadly and leaves. After a discreet interval, the secretary knocks and enters again.)
Secretary: There’s another young lady who wants to see you, Sir Hilary.
Sir Hilary: Nine o’clock.
Secretary: (Raising an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic behaviour.) And then another.
Sir Hilary: Ten? Oh well, back to work- you have no idea how it’s piling up.
Thank you, guys. There'll be a little break from regular Conversations while work on the Christmas special gets done. Three of us are collaborating, but all volunteers welcome!
The traditional AJB Christmas Pantomime, this year taking the form of an Imaginary Conversations Christmas Special. Brought to you by CoolHandBond, Number24, and myself it will be called
Over the last few years it has become a Christmas tradition to hold a pantomime here on AJB007 ("Oh no it hasn't!" "Oh yes it has!"). This is contributed to by anyone who wants to, and more recently that has meant contributors and regular readers of the Imaginary Conversations thread.
We are beavering away behind the scenes and have set a release date, which we hope to achieve.... Now where have we heard that before?
This year it won't be a pantomime as such,since we've done that the last couple of years, but those should be easy enough to find if anyone has a craving for them.
Three men dressed in Santa suits go marching down the Kings Road, Chelsea, London, single file with sacks slung over their shoulders. They pass a Salvation Army band playing an upbeat calypso version of The Three Kings.
Music: “We Three Kings, in a row. We Three Kings, here we go...”
They enter a side street and approach a building; as someone leaves they sneak though the entrance before it closes. Climbing a flight of stairs they press the doorbell on door number 7. It resounds Dong. Ding Dong. They look at each other and shrug their shoulders. A man opens the door. He is tall, dark and handsome so clearly isn’t Daniel Craig. We realise it must be James Bond, who immediately sees through the disguises of the three men.
Bond: (Mutters.) The Hall twins and Shady Christmastree!
(The three Santas bundle into Bond’s apartment and a furious fight proceeds. The twins end up unconscious in the huge Christmas tree, knocking it down in the process, the tree lights going out. Grabbing a flamethrower disguised as bellows (which Q has given him to test.) Bond frazzles Shady and he slumps to the floor in a smoky mess.)
Bond: Krisp Kringle.
(The telephone rings. Bond walks over and casually answers.)
Bond: Hello?
Moneypenny: James, it’s me.
Bond: Ah, hello, Moneypenny, are you coming round here to give me my Christmas present personally?
Moneypenny: He wants you here immediately, James. Oh, you sound out of breath?
Bond: I’ve just been decking the Halls.
---------------------------------------------
Scantily clad ladies dance as a popular performer sings-
Inside an outwardly normal giant Christmas parcel, a meeting is being held. A team of suspicious-looking characters are sitting around a board table. At the top sits their leader. He is completely bald, with a scar running through one eye. The scar can’t make up its mind which eye, alternating with every shot. His name is Grimm Scrooge. The room is very dark- darkness is cheap, and Grimm liked it. In the background a melody can softly be heard, recognisable as “Kidnap The Sandy Claws” from “The Nightmare Before Christmas”.
Grimm: It is satisfying to see all the members of our evil organization, SIS (Serious Injuries to Spies), here together at last. Well, all except Vladimir who’s a little busy right now.
Morton Blunder: But why are we all here, Mr Scrooge, and why at this time of the year?
Grimm: Because I hate what Christmas has turned into- a holiday that is very commercialised, very vulgar, and bad for the environment. I want the old-fashioned type of Christmas back, where grandfathers make the gifts at home – I believe they still do that in the most remote fjords in Norway – and poor people can hardly afford food, just like back in Dickens’ time.
Lars Vargas: Well, we’re almost there with that one thanks to our agents inside the governments.
Grimm: I want a communist and environmentally friendly Christmas. I dream of a red and green Christmas!
Hans Kneesbumpsadaisy: So what is your plan, Mr Scrooge?
Grimm: I have two immediate goals- firstly, an attack on a symbol of the commercialised Christmas.
Blunder: Like Harrods?
Grimm: Yes, or something similar. (Sings.) “They’ll have a blue, blue Christmas without the Christmas sales…”
Lars: We could superglue ourselves to the M25?
Grimm: No, the “Just Stop Oil” people have got that covered.
Blunder: We could poison the Christmas tree on Trafalgar Square and make it wither and die!
Grimm: Based on the trees we've been sent from Oslo lately I suspect the Norwegians are already doing this.
Hans: What’s your second goal, sir?
Grimm: My second goal is even more devious and evil. We want to fulfil our name and bring serious hurt to a spy- the greatest, most famous, of all spies- James Bond!
Blunder: Why him?
Grimm: First of all he’s the last line of defence for both the UK and the US, the two countries where Christmas is most commercialised. Bond himself is a huge shopper and symbol of commercialism.
Lars: But why not just kill him?
Grimm: I feel that killing isn’t in the Christmas spirit- I want to injure 007 and people like him seriously, hence the name of our organization.
Hans: I feel that Black Friday is an obvious target for us- we can put some sort of drug in the air to cause hysteria and a mass stampede.
Grimm: And how is that different from what happens on Black Friday every other year? Come to think of it, it’s very possible someone has been doing that for years. No, we have to come up with something better….
I'd like to thank Gymkata and everyone else who's posted kind words about Snowfall. Barbel, CHB and I enjoyed writing it very much, but we're happy to hear if people also enjoy the result. 😊
Scene 2 MI6 HQ. Moneypenny’s office. James Bond enters, to find her dressed as a Christmas elf.
Bond: Why, Moneypenny, what a magnificent outfit. Did you make that your elf?
Moneypenny: Any more puns like that, James, will be very bad for your elf.
Bond: But of course. I only have ice for yule.
Moneypenny: Very funny.
Bond: May I say how very fetching it looks on you?
Moneypenny: It isn’t woke to say such things any more, you know.
Bond: Then I shall stop commenting on how extremely attractive you look, at once.
Moneypenny: Enough, James!
Bond: Why are you dressed like that, anyway?
Moneypenny: It’s the office Christmas party today! Didn’t you get the memo?
Bond: I seem to have missed it.
Moneypenny: Oh well, never mind. (She presses a button on her intercom.) On you go in, M is expecting you.
Bond: Just me my elf?
Moneypenny: Enough!
M’s office. He is standing behind his desk, dressed up in full Santa Claus gear.
Bond: Good morning, sir.
M: Mff umff mff, muffle-O mfff.
Bond: Claus-trophia, sir?
M: Umff mff, mff umff- (He pulls down the beard.) I said, good morning, double-O seven. This damn beard!
Bond: I take it you’re going to the office Christmas party then, sir?
M: Of course I’m bloody going, you’ve never seen me dressed like this before, have you?
Bond: Well, there was that one time in Tokyo-
M: I thought we agreed never to talk about that! I have to go to this, the Royals have been invited.
(Buckingham Palace. The King and the Queen Consort are having their breakfast, while opening their mail.
King: Oh, blast.
Queen: What is it, Charles?
King: It’s that terrible Trump man from the Colonies. He wants to come over soon for a visit.
Queen: But he isn’t President any more!
King: Do you think that would stop him?
Queen: Any other letters or invitations?
King: Well, we have been asked to the MI6 Christmas party.
Queen: The secret agent chaps?
King: That’s them.
Queen: We’ve been invited by their man N?
King: M, my sweet, M.
Queen: Can’t we send Wills and Kate?
King: It’s very short notice, they may be busy being embarrassed in the Caribbean.
Queen: Well, what about Ha-
King: Don’t even say it! We’ll just have to go.
Queen: But it’s a fancy dress party- Harry could go as the village idiot, he wouldn’t have to act any differently.
King: Get him on the phone….)
M: Anyway, I’ve been wanting to see you- have you heard of a man called Grimm Scrooge?
Bond: Ah, yes. Grimm Scrooge, descendant of Ebenezer, says he’s inspired by the Ghost of Christmas Presents, wants the de-commercialisation of Christmas, to stop all the receiving of unwanted gifts…
M: Like when you asked for a tub of sour cream?
Bond: Yes, and ended up with a bottle of shower cream!
M: Just so. However, we have recently been informed that he may be behind the recent attacks on Harrods.
Bond: You mean the blackouts in the Christmas section? The custard sprayed all over Santa’s Grotto? The soup thrown over the Christmas trees?
M: That’s it.
Bond: I thought that was attributed to “Just Stop Oil”.
M: That’s the official story, 007. We wanted something which the newspapers would believe and print.
Bond: They’ll print anything these days.
M: Indeed. Now, Mr Scrooge has a weekly game of Cluedo which he likes to play for high stakes. I want you to join him in this game tonight in Rovaniemi, Lapland,and see what you can find out. (M puts the Santa beard back on.)
Bond: Yes, sir, tonight. Will that be all, sir?
M: Mff umff mff.
Bond: Very good. (He leaves.)
Bond walks to the entrance to Q Branch. He can hear the strains of “Underneath The Mistletoe Tree” come faintly from behind the door.
Music: “Underneath the mistletoe tree, my honey and me come watch for the moon….”
(Bond opens the door, marked of course with a large letter “Q” and enters. Q and Tanner are standing beneath the mistletoe and leap instantly away from each other, looking incredibly guilty.)
Q: 007!
Tanner: Bond!
Bond: Hello, gentlemen.
Tanner: I was just, er, just helping Q find my banana, I mean his contact lens.
Bond: Q is wearing large glasses, Tanner.
Q: Ah… er….
Bond: Relax, I won’t be saying anything.
Tanner: What?
Q: You knew?
Bond: I thought everybody knew. Anyway, M is sending me on a mission- what do you have for me?
Q: Now pay attention, 007: look at this. It looks like tinsel, feels like tinsel, but if you wrap it up into a ball and throw it-
(He does just that. There is a contained but powerful explosion at the far end of the room which sends two assistants flying.)
Bond: That’ll give someone tinselitis.
Q: And this is radioactive turkey. Once your quarry eats some of this, you’ll be able to detect him wherever he goes.
Bond: Suppose he’s a vegetarian?
Q: We also have radioactive Brussels sprouts.
Bond: Ow, yuck, how am I supposed to persuade him to eat them?
Q: I only invent them- you’re the agent, 007, that’s your job.
Scene 3. Rovaniemi. The famous Casino Cluedo, recognizable by its plum coloured walls, scarlet doors, and mustard curtains. Tiffany Case enters with her husband, a man with an eyepatch.
Tiffany: Why have we got to come here? I want to take in a show!
Husband: I have some business to do here. Now, Tiffany, just be patient and we can go to a show later.
Tiffany: Patient? All these years I’ve waited and now you want me to be patient!
(They head towards a craps table, where he sits down.)
Husband: Like I said, this is business. Here, (He hands her some money.) go and play on the machines for a while.
Tiffany: Humph!
(She stomps off, and he begins to gamble at the table. An attractive dark-haired woman appears at his shoulder.)
Woman: Would you like some help? On the Cluedo, I mean.
Husband: That’s very kind of you, Miss…?
Woman: I’m Plenty.
Husband: But of course you are. I’m Number 23.
Plenty: And who is Number 24?
Number 23: That’s my business. No-one knows, not even Number 24.
(But Tiffany and Plenty have turned into a ferocious ball of nails, hair, and teeth. Like any sensible man, Number 23 stays quietly in the background and continues to play. He is soon joined by a short bespectacled man in a brightly-coloured suit.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Allow myself to introduce myself.
(But Number 23 is distracted, looking over the other man’s shoulder.)
Short Bespectacled Man: What are you looking at?
(Number 23 just points, silently. The other looks.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Oh, good God! You don’t mean…. It can’t be…. Is it HIM?
(Number 23 nods. The other’s jaw drops as James Bond enters. Bond notices “Do You Know How Christmas Trees Are Grown?” playing softly in the background.Judging by the huge Christmas tree covered completely in glitter standing by the bar, at least someone knew WHERE they were grown and owned a chainsaw. In Bond's opinion this was usually sufficient. He is approached by a waiter.)
Waiter: Good evening, sir, may I get you a drink?
Bond: Certainly. Three measures of Gordon’s gin, one measure of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet, shake it over ice then add a thin slice of lemon peel. And don’t stir it.
(The waiter rolls his eyes and shouts over to the barman.)
Waiter: Hey, Sid- another one!
Bond: What? I don’t-
Waiter: Every night we get guys in here who think they’re James Bond.
Bond: But I really-
Waiter: Yeah, right, just cos you’ve got a nice suit and know how to order a-
(Bond calmly shows the waiter his wallet, “accidentally” displaying his Walther PPK in its shoulder holster while doing so.)
Waiter: Oh! You actually are… A thousand apologies, Mr Bond, I’m so sorry.
Bond: Do I look as if I give a damn? Now, tell me, at which table is Mr Scrooge playing tonight?
Waiter: Table 3, he always plays at Table 3- claims it brings him luck since it’s the only table in here playing the special version of Cluedo.
Bond: Yes, well, we’ll see about that.
(He makes to walk away.)
Waiter: Mr Bond! You forgot your drink.
Bond: Keep it. You look like you need it more than I do.
(Bond begins to walk, but is interrupted by the short bespectacled man in a brightly-coloured suit.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Oh, groovy baby! I just can’t believe it!
(He produces a packet of cigarettes, takes one out and lights it. Bond brings out his own cigarette.)
Bond: Can I borrow a match?
Short Bespectacled Man: I use a lighter.
Bond: Better still. Until they go wrong.
(While the other is producing a lighter, Bond casually points his cigarette. A dart shoots out and hits smack in the centre of the brightly-coloured jacket.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Oh behave....
(Bond waits for the other to fall cross-eyed to the floor.)
Bond: I can't believe you fell for that one.
(A couple of casino employees rush to the scene.)
Bond: I told him smoking is bad for one’s health…
(He walks over to Table 3, breathing in the heady atmosphere of gambling for large stakes. He sees the imposing figure of Grimm Scrooge, with a beautiful woman on one side and a big, tough-looking man on the other.)
Grimm: I accuse Dr Snow, with the candlestick, in the underground lair!
(The croupier reaches for the envelope, opens it, and displays the cards held within.)
Croupier: Mr Scrooge wins again!
(The onlookers all talk appreciatively to each other. Phrases such as “He never loses!” and “How does he do it?” can be heard.)
Scrooge: (Addressing a nervous-looking elderly man, clearly his opponent.) Another game, Mr Wilson?
Mr Wilson: Yes, I think I-
(A woman about twenty years younger takes Mr Wilson by the elbow.)
Woman: That’s enough for one night, Michael. Let’s get out of here.
Mr Wilson: But Barbara-
Woman: Out!
(Reluctantly Mr Wilson allows Barbara to lead him, with the air of someone for whom this is no novelty. Bond slips into the now vacant seat. He’s humming the tune to “Last Christmas”- Bond shakes his head and mutters to himself “Serves me right for listening to Moneypenny’s record collection”.)
Bond: I would be prepared to take that game.
Scrooge: But of course, Mr….?
Bond: Bond, James Bond.
Scrooge: Ah, yes, Mr Bond- your reputation precedes you. Let me introduce you to Moana Lisa and Santajaws. (He gestures to either side of himself.) Strict rules of Cluedo, Mr. Bond. We play the special version here.
Bond: Naturally.
(The cards are expertly shuffled and three are placed into the envelope. The game proceeds with each player sizing up the opposition.)
Scrooge: Your turn Mr. Bond, and I will be announcing the winning solution on the next turn. (He removes his spectacles and places them next to him.)
Bond: In that case I will take player’s privilege and use your glasses.
(He quickly scoops up Scrooge’s spectacles and put them on revealing an x-Ray vision of the cards inside the envelope. Scrooge silently fumes but holds his temper.)
Bond: I accuse Lord Lucan with the lead pipe in the hollowed-out volcano.
(The onlookers gasp and applaud as the winning cards are revealed. Scrooge hands over a deep pile of chips.)
Scrooge: Spend it quickly, Mr. Bond; your liking for Last Christmas may well come true.
Scene 4. Bond takes his winnings and walks away from the table. A band has finished setting up, and begins to play “Good Morning Rovaneimi Town”. Bond exchanges a nod with the bass player. Scrooge’s partner, Moana Lisa, gets up and walks over to Bond. She's of more than average height with long, brown hair. Bond estimated that she had to be taller than that actor with the unbelievable southern accent in the "Knives Out" movie. She was stunningly beautiful with her face and everything else having classic features, but Bond could detect a glint of fear in her hazel eyes which her enigmatic half-smile failed to hide. She had no eyebrows or eyelashes. Her dress was very sombre, a simple brown fabric. Scrooge indicates for Santajaws to keep an eye on them.
Moana: I admire the way you played your hand, Mr Bond.
Bond: James, to my friends. Can I offer you a drink?
Moana: That is very kind of you. I’ll have a mulled wine.
Bond: And I’ll have-
Waiter: I think we’ve all got it by now, Mr Bond.
Bond: Actually, I’ll have an eggnog. (The waiter looks startled.) But I will have it shaken, not stirred.
(The waiter approaches the barman and orders the drinks.)
Barman: Eggnog for Mr. Bond? You’re joking!
Waiter: I never joke about my work.
Moana: You’re the first man I’ve met who I think could release me from the fearful hold which Scrooge has over me.
Bond: What, some embarrassing photos perhaps?
Moana: I was young! I needed the money! Er…. ahem, no, not that. Everyone Iknowis afraid of him, but you don’t seem to be afraid of anything.
Bond: Only Purvis & Wade, but that’s not important right now.
(Santajaws is lurking close by, watching, as the waiter returns with the drinks.)
Moana:Let’s go outside.
Bond: But of course.
(As they leave the casino two wardrobe girls sigh from the effort of handing Moana Lisa a large coat that several furry animals must have given up their lives for. Bond decided as he looked at Moana that the coat was worth their effort. They head to the open air which is icy cold.)
Bond: So your name is Lisa.
Moana: Moana Lisa, to tell the truth.
Bond: Your parents were art lovers?
Moana: No, just big Nat King Cole fans.
Moana: James… I have to tell you what Grimm is up to.
Bond: Please, go ahead.
Moana: You must know that he hates Christmas. Hates it with a passion, and all it stands for.
Bond: Yes, I know.
Moana: Later today he’s going to go to Lapland and… and… oh, it’s so awful, I can’t say it.
Bond: You have to try, Moana.
Moana: He’s going to shoot Santa Claus! On live TV so that all the children around the world will see it!
Bond: Shoot Santa?
Moana: Can’t you see you’ve got to stop him? You’re the only man who can!
Bond: But, Moana… Santa doesn’t exist!
Moana: What? But you’re James Bond! You haven’t aged a day since 1953! You’re supposed to be a secret agent but everyone knows who you are! Your face changes every ten years or so!
Bond: Ah… point taken. But listen, Moana-
(The sound of an arrow swishes through the air, followed by a thud. The projectile enters Moana’s neck from behind and the arrowhead appears from the front, a thin trickle of blood dripping onto her dress. Her eyes glaze over as Bond lays her down onto the floor.
Looking around, Bond spies Santajaws climb onto a snowmobile and head for the exit onto ice encrusted roads that led to the mountains. Running and pressing a keyfob, Bond jumps onto the sleighmobile provided by Q branch. The vehicle purrs into life with its 8 brp (brake reindeer power) drive and Bond uses the levers to head onto the road in pursuit of his quarry.
Q branch had issued James Bond with many forms of transport over the years- the Aston Martin, the jetpack, Little Nellie to name but three- but this particular mode of transport was the most ingenious yet. Worked by levers for speed and direction it was based on the classic Santa sleigh design, but with many additional features.
Bond switches on the main headlights and Santajaws’s snowmobile is caught in its beam as both vehicles cut through the thick ice covering the road making hissing noises as they turn corners, throwing up shards of ice. Snow begins to fall and the moonlight casts dark shadows across the landscape, while Bond presses a switch causing retractable snow shoes to emerge from the reindeers’ hooves. Bond presses one of the many buttons on the console and infra-red light shines out from the lead reindeer’s nose,(it's a very shiny nose; if you ever saw it, you might even say it glows) sending an image to the night vision screen on the dashboard. Bond touches a button and a heat-seeking mini-rocket is launchedfrom the from of the sleighmobile, landing to the side of the snowmobile. The explosion makes it rock but Santajaws skilfully adjusts his balance and continues towards the mountains.
Pressing another button Bond sends a flurry of machine gun fire towards his prey, the clanging of metal confirming it hit the target. The superior speed of the sleighmobile has cut the distance between the vehicles to only a few yards when suddenly Santajaws swerves sharply and in a cacophony of metal grinding on ice brings the vehicle to a halt as a herd of reindeer block the road. Bond grabs the flamethrower from its holster and runs a few steps after the fleeing Santajaws, then stops, aims and pulls on the trigger. Santajaws screams as he turns into a human fireball, twisting and turning, falling onto the snow packed bank at the edge of the road, flames dying out as the snow dampens the heat. Smoke rises from the dead body as Bond peers down.)
Bond: Big fry.
(The sound of grunting, snorting and bellowing pricks Bond’s ears as the herd of reindeer that blocked the road is joined by a woman dressed in red and blue clothes.)
Bond: Well, that was good timing. My name’s Bond, James Bond.
Woman: Jingle Belle. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bond. It seems we have the same objective.
(Belle is a woman in her mid-twenties dressed in a knee-length blue jacket with ribbons and gold brooches splashing with colour in the pale white landscape. Her shapely legs are covered in red and blue leggings and on her feet she is wearing boots with an upturned toe made of reindeer fur. James Bond knew immediately that the striking apparel meant that Jingle was of the nomad Sami people, often called Lapps,who traditionally herded reindeer in the Arctic regions of Europe. While her clothes were striking, Bond is even more struck by the beautiful woman herself. She is of below medium height for the Nordic countries and her cheekbones are higher than average. Her skin is pale, but healthy. Jingle isn’t wearing anything on her head despite the cold temperatures, showing off her pixie-cut brown hair. Bond is immediately drawn to her green eyes and playful smile.)
Bond: Pleased to meet you. My hotel’s back there- can I offer you a lift, Jingle, all the way?
Comments
Another call for collaborators to help write a Christmas special (not necessarily a pantomime). So far N24 and I have a vague plan but I'd like volunteers to do, say, one assigned scene each then I tie it all together - as we have done before.
Meanwhile....
1970. The College Of Arms, London. Sir Hilary Bray sits at his desk, happily comparing the brass rubbings he made in Northern France at the end of the year before. There is a knock on the door, and his secretary enters.
Secretary: A young lady to see you, Sir Hilary.
Sir Hilary: Young lady?
Secretary: Yes, sir. A Miss Bartlett. She does have an appointment.
Sir Hilary: Oh very well, show her in.
(The secretary shows in an attractive young lady.)
Sir Hilary: Now, then, what can I-
Miss Bartlett: Hilly!
(She runs across the room then stops in front of his desk, now that she can have a closer look. She appears confused.)
Sir Hilary: I don’t understand, what is it-
Miss Bartlett: Where’s Hilly?
Sir Hilary: Er, Hilly?
Miss Bartlett: Sir Hilary Bray! I must see him, at once!
Sir Hilary: My dear madam, I am Sir Hilary Bray. Now, what is it that-
Miss Bartlett: You’re not Sir Hilary! Where is he?
(She begins to look around, opening doors, moving curtains, etc.)
Sir Hilary: I most certainly am Sir Hilary Bray!
Miss Bartlett: Well, you sound like him, I’ll give you that, but you do not look like him- not a thing like him!
Sir Hilary: What makes you think that I am not Sir Hilary?
Miss Bartlett: Because I met you- I mean him- in Switzerland last year.
Sir Hilary: (Now he understands.) Ah, er, Switzerland, you say?
Miss Bartlett: Yes, in a clinic on top of a mountain. We became, ah, very friendly.
Sir Hilary: (Knowing he can’t give anything away.) A clinic, you say?
Miss Bartlett: Yes, I was there to be cured of my allergy. I used to hate chicken- used to make me break out. It was all over. You’d be surprised where.
Sir Hilary: And you’re cured from this now, Miss Bartlett?
Miss Bartlett: Call me Ruby.
Sir Hilary: Yes, of course, Ruby.
Ruby: Oh, completely cured. My family’s got a chicken farm and every time I did something on it I nearly died. (A faraway look comes into her eyes, and her voice becomes robotic.) But that is all over now. I love chickens. I love their flesh, their voice.
Sir Hilary: Ruby?
Ruby: (Coming back to normal.) Oh yes, sorry.
Sir Hilary: Perhaps you could make enquiries at this clinic you mention?
Ruby: I tried! But it’s not there any more- it blew up!
Sir Hilary: Blew up? (He knows perfectly well who was behind that.) That’s terrible!
Ruby: So you see, this is the only place I could go! I have to find him- I have to find him quickly!
Sir Hilary: How quickly?
Ruby: I’ve only got a few months.
Sir Hilary: What? You’re going to die?
Ruby: No, of course not. I mean I’ve only got a few months before… you know… (She pats her abdomen.)
Sir Hilary: Oh! Yes, I see. But I’m afraid I cannot help you, Miss Ba- er, Ruby. As you can see, I am not the man you met on top of a mountain in Switzerland.
Ruby: (Dismayed.) Yes, I know. Well, thanks anyway. (She turns to go then a thought strikes her.) Sir Hilary?
Sir Hilary: Yes, my dear?
Ruby: If it's a boy, do you mind if I name him "Hilary"?
Sir Hilary: No, no, of course not. What if it's a girl?
Ruby: Oh, I'll still name her Hilary.
(She walks to the door sadly and leaves. After a discreet interval, the secretary knocks and enters again.)
Secretary: There’s another young lady who wants to see you, Sir Hilary.
Sir Hilary: Nine o’clock.
Secretary: (Raising an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic behaviour.) And then another.
Sir Hilary: Ten? Oh well, back to work- you have no idea how it’s piling up.
😂😂😂😂
Brilliant as usual, Barbel 👏🏻🤣🤣👏🏻🍸
Thank you, guys. There'll be a little break from regular Conversations while work on the Christmas special gets done. Three of us are collaborating, but all volunteers welcome!
That’s one of the best yet, Barbel 😂😂😂
Thank you, CHB!
Coming Soon-
The traditional AJB Christmas Pantomime, this year taking the form of an Imaginary Conversations Christmas Special. Brought to you by CoolHandBond, Number24, and myself it will be called
** S N O W F A L L **
Watch this space......
Oh, please, can Doris Day sing the theme tune!
I've written some nice lyrics, but you'll have to wait to see if you can imagine her singing them. 😁
James Bond Is Back In Action !!!
Here Comes The Biggest AJB Pantomime Of All !!!
Coming On This Thread Soon.
December 2022.
** S N O W F A L L **
For those who don't know -
Over the last few years it has become a Christmas tradition to hold a pantomime here on AJB007 ("Oh no it hasn't!" "Oh yes it has!"). This is contributed to by anyone who wants to, and more recently that has meant contributors and regular readers of the Imaginary Conversations thread.
We are beavering away behind the scenes and have set a release date, which we hope to achieve.... Now where have we heard that before?
This year it won't be a pantomime as such,since we've done that the last couple of years, but those should be easy enough to find if anyone has a craving for them.
Sleighs! Snow! Santa Claus!
It can only mean one thing -
James Bond 007 Is Back!
From wintry London to the icy Nordic mountains, a deadly enemy has Bond in his sights…and Bond has a girl or two in his!
Far Up! Far Out! Far More!
It’s The Biggest, It’s The Best, It’s…
This DECEMBER 11th 2022
Do You Know How Santa Gets Around? He needs…
When a descendant of Ebenezer Scrooge hatches a nefarious plot to stop Christmas only James Bond can save the day!
More Fun! More Frolics! (Can we say frolics, Barbel?…No, I said frolics…ok, great) Ahem..
MORE FUN! MORE FROLICS!
The wait is nearly over…this Sunday 11th December…
👍👍👍👍👍
I'm looking forward to this one... Bond and Beyond?
Wait no more, Shady- Part One lies below.....
From Barbel, CoolHandBond, Number24
Three men dressed in Santa suits go marching down the Kings Road, Chelsea, London, single file with sacks slung over their shoulders. They pass a Salvation Army band playing an upbeat calypso version of The Three Kings.
Music: “We Three Kings, in a row. We Three Kings, here we go...”
They enter a side street and approach a building; as someone leaves they sneak though the entrance before it closes. Climbing a flight of stairs they press the doorbell on door number 7. It resounds Dong. Ding Dong. They look at each other and shrug their shoulders. A man opens the door. He is tall, dark and handsome so clearly isn’t Daniel Craig. We realise it must be James Bond, who immediately sees through the disguises of the three men.
Bond: (Mutters.) The Hall twins and Shady Christmastree!
(The three Santas bundle into Bond’s apartment and a furious fight proceeds. The twins end up unconscious in the huge Christmas tree, knocking it down in the process, the tree lights going out. Grabbing a flamethrower disguised as bellows (which Q has given him to test.) Bond frazzles Shady and he slumps to the floor in a smoky mess.)
Bond: Krisp Kringle.
(The telephone rings. Bond walks over and casually answers.)
Bond: Hello?
Moneypenny: James, it’s me.
Bond: Ah, hello, Moneypenny, are you coming round here to give me my Christmas present personally?
Moneypenny: He wants you here immediately, James. Oh, you sound out of breath?
Bond: I’ve just been decking the Halls.
---------------------------------------------
Scantily clad ladies dance as a popular performer sings-
He doesn’t like Christmas
He hates all the praise
He doesn’t like Santa
Small elves and sleighs
He doesn’t like chimneys
Green trees and red balls
He can’t stand Bing Crosby
But he loves Snowfall
He doesn’t like turkey
If it’s cold or hot
He doesn’t like presents
With string in a knot
Nor green sprouts from Brussels
But then don’t we all?
He doesn’t like tinsel
But he loves Snowfall
He loves Snowfall
He loves Snowfall
He loves Snow faaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!
-------------------------------------------------------
Part Two tomorrow!
Excellent start 🤣👏🏻
Scene 1.
Inside an outwardly normal giant Christmas parcel, a meeting is being held. A team of suspicious-looking characters are sitting around a board table. At the top sits their leader. He is completely bald, with a scar running through one eye. The scar can’t make up its mind which eye, alternating with every shot. His name is Grimm Scrooge. The room is very dark- darkness is cheap, and Grimm liked it. In the background a melody can softly be heard, recognisable as “Kidnap The Sandy Claws” from “The Nightmare Before Christmas”.
Grimm: It is satisfying to see all the members of our evil organization, SIS (Serious Injuries to Spies), here together at last. Well, all except Vladimir who’s a little busy right now.
Morton Blunder: But why are we all here, Mr Scrooge, and why at this time of the year?
Grimm: Because I hate what Christmas has turned into- a holiday that is very commercialised, very vulgar, and bad for the environment. I want the old-fashioned type of Christmas back, where grandfathers make the gifts at home – I believe they still do that in the most remote fjords in Norway – and poor people can hardly afford food, just like back in Dickens’ time.
Lars Vargas: Well, we’re almost there with that one thanks to our agents inside the governments.
Grimm: I want a communist and environmentally friendly Christmas. I dream of a red and green Christmas!
Hans Kneesbumpsadaisy: So what is your plan, Mr Scrooge?
Grimm: I have two immediate goals- firstly, an attack on a symbol of the commercialised Christmas.
Blunder: Like Harrods?
Grimm: Yes, or something similar. (Sings.) “They’ll have a blue, blue Christmas without the Christmas sales…”
Lars: We could superglue ourselves to the M25?
Grimm: No, the “Just Stop Oil” people have got that covered.
Blunder: We could poison the Christmas tree on Trafalgar Square and make it wither and die!
Grimm: Based on the trees we've been sent from Oslo lately I suspect the Norwegians are already doing this.
Hans: What’s your second goal, sir?
Grimm: My second goal is even more devious and evil. We want to fulfil our name and bring serious hurt to a spy- the greatest, most famous, of all spies- James Bond!
Blunder: Why him?
Grimm: First of all he’s the last line of defence for both the UK and the US, the two countries where Christmas is most commercialised. Bond himself is a huge shopper and symbol of commercialism.
Lars: But why not just kill him?
Grimm: I feel that killing isn’t in the Christmas spirit- I want to injure 007 and people like him seriously, hence the name of our organization.
Hans: I feel that Black Friday is an obvious target for us- we can put some sort of drug in the air to cause hysteria and a mass stampede.
Grimm: And how is that different from what happens on Black Friday every other year? Come to think of it, it’s very possible someone has been doing that for years. No, we have to come up with something better….
Seasonal shenanigans, deliciously diabolical...
Sounds like Grimm and his cohort are in some serious need of sunshine and raindrops, snowflakes and reindeer...
I'd like to thank Gymkata and everyone else who's posted kind words about Snowfall. Barbel, CHB and I enjoyed writing it very much, but we're happy to hear if people also enjoy the result. 😊
CHB: Can I just say thank you to all those who have posted kind words, as well?
Barbel: No I’m sorry, there isn’t time, I’m going to post the next scene.
Barbel always makes a scene ... 😁
But of course.
Next scene will be posted at 6pm my time, work it out yourself what that is for you.
You'll find out soon!
Scene 2 MI6 HQ. Moneypenny’s office. James Bond enters, to find her dressed as a Christmas elf.
Bond: Why, Moneypenny, what a magnificent outfit. Did you make that your elf?
Moneypenny: Any more puns like that, James, will be very bad for your elf.
Bond: But of course. I only have ice for yule.
Moneypenny: Very funny.
Bond: May I say how very fetching it looks on you?
Moneypenny: It isn’t woke to say such things any more, you know.
Bond: Then I shall stop commenting on how extremely attractive you look, at once.
Moneypenny: Enough, James!
Bond: Why are you dressed like that, anyway?
Moneypenny: It’s the office Christmas party today! Didn’t you get the memo?
Bond: I seem to have missed it.
Moneypenny: Oh well, never mind. (She presses a button on her intercom.) On you go in, M is expecting you.
Bond: Just me my elf?
Moneypenny: Enough!
M’s office. He is standing behind his desk, dressed up in full Santa Claus gear.
Bond: Good morning, sir.
M: Mff umff mff, muffle-O mfff.
Bond: Claus-trophia, sir?
M: Umff mff, mff umff- (He pulls down the beard.) I said, good morning, double-O seven. This damn beard!
Bond: I take it you’re going to the office Christmas party then, sir?
M: Of course I’m bloody going, you’ve never seen me dressed like this before, have you?
Bond: Well, there was that one time in Tokyo-
M: I thought we agreed never to talk about that! I have to go to this, the Royals have been invited.
(Buckingham Palace. The King and the Queen Consort are having their breakfast, while opening their mail.
King: Oh, blast.
Queen: What is it, Charles?
King: It’s that terrible Trump man from the Colonies. He wants to come over soon for a visit.
Queen: But he isn’t President any more!
King: Do you think that would stop him?
Queen: Any other letters or invitations?
King: Well, we have been asked to the MI6 Christmas party.
Queen: The secret agent chaps?
King: That’s them.
Queen: We’ve been invited by their man N?
King: M, my sweet, M.
Queen: Can’t we send Wills and Kate?
King: It’s very short notice, they may be busy being embarrassed in the Caribbean.
Queen: Well, what about Ha-
King: Don’t even say it! We’ll just have to go.
Queen: But it’s a fancy dress party- Harry could go as the village idiot, he wouldn’t have to act any differently.
King: Get him on the phone….)
M: Anyway, I’ve been wanting to see you- have you heard of a man called Grimm Scrooge?
Bond: Ah, yes. Grimm Scrooge, descendant of Ebenezer, says he’s inspired by the Ghost of Christmas Presents, wants the de-commercialisation of Christmas, to stop all the receiving of unwanted gifts…
M: Like when you asked for a tub of sour cream?
Bond: Yes, and ended up with a bottle of shower cream!
M: Just so. However, we have recently been informed that he may be behind the recent attacks on Harrods.
Bond: You mean the blackouts in the Christmas section? The custard sprayed all over Santa’s Grotto? The soup thrown over the Christmas trees?
M: That’s it.
Bond: I thought that was attributed to “Just Stop Oil”.
M: That’s the official story, 007. We wanted something which the newspapers would believe and print.
Bond: They’ll print anything these days.
M: Indeed. Now, Mr Scrooge has a weekly game of Cluedo which he likes to play for high stakes. I want you to join him in this game tonight in Rovaniemi, Lapland,and see what you can find out. (M puts the Santa beard back on.)
Bond: Yes, sir, tonight. Will that be all, sir?
M: Mff umff mff.
Bond: Very good. (He leaves.)
Bond walks to the entrance to Q Branch. He can hear the strains of “Underneath The Mistletoe Tree” come faintly from behind the door.
Music: “Underneath the mistletoe tree, my honey and me come watch for the moon….”
(Bond opens the door, marked of course with a large letter “Q” and enters. Q and Tanner are standing beneath the mistletoe and leap instantly away from each other, looking incredibly guilty.)
Q: 007!
Tanner: Bond!
Bond: Hello, gentlemen.
Tanner: I was just, er, just helping Q find my banana, I mean his contact lens.
Bond: Q is wearing large glasses, Tanner.
Q: Ah… er….
Bond: Relax, I won’t be saying anything.
Tanner: What?
Q: You knew?
Bond: I thought everybody knew. Anyway, M is sending me on a mission- what do you have for me?
Q: Now pay attention, 007: look at this. It looks like tinsel, feels like tinsel, but if you wrap it up into a ball and throw it-
(He does just that. There is a contained but powerful explosion at the far end of the room which sends two assistants flying.)
Bond: That’ll give someone tinselitis.
Q: And this is radioactive turkey. Once your quarry eats some of this, you’ll be able to detect him wherever he goes.
Bond: Suppose he’s a vegetarian?
Q: We also have radioactive Brussels sprouts.
Bond: Ow, yuck, how am I supposed to persuade him to eat them?
Q: I only invent them- you’re the agent, 007, that’s your job.
Very good 🎅🎅🎅
Scene 3. Rovaniemi. The famous Casino Cluedo, recognizable by its plum coloured walls, scarlet doors, and mustard curtains. Tiffany Case enters with her husband, a man with an eyepatch.
Tiffany: Why have we got to come here? I want to take in a show!
Husband: I have some business to do here. Now, Tiffany, just be patient and we can go to a show later.
Tiffany: Patient? All these years I’ve waited and now you want me to be patient!
(They head towards a craps table, where he sits down.)
Husband: Like I said, this is business. Here, (He hands her some money.) go and play on the machines for a while.
Tiffany: Humph!
(She stomps off, and he begins to gamble at the table. An attractive dark-haired woman appears at his shoulder.)
Woman: Would you like some help? On the Cluedo, I mean.
Husband: That’s very kind of you, Miss…?
Woman: I’m Plenty.
Husband: But of course you are. I’m Number 23.
Plenty: And who is Number 24?
Number 23: That’s my business. No-one knows, not even Number 24.
(Tiffany returns.)
Tiffany: Hi, honey, would…. (She spots Plenty.) You!
Number 23: Would I what?
(But Tiffany and Plenty have turned into a ferocious ball of nails, hair, and teeth. Like any sensible man, Number 23 stays quietly in the background and continues to play. He is soon joined by a short bespectacled man in a brightly-coloured suit.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Allow myself to introduce myself.
(But Number 23 is distracted, looking over the other man’s shoulder.)
Short Bespectacled Man: What are you looking at?
(Number 23 just points, silently. The other looks.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Oh, good God! You don’t mean…. It can’t be…. Is it HIM?
(Number 23 nods. The other’s jaw drops as James Bond enters. Bond notices “Do You Know How Christmas Trees Are Grown?” playing softly in the background. Judging by the huge Christmas tree covered completely in glitter standing by the bar, at least someone knew WHERE they were grown and owned a chainsaw. In Bond's opinion this was usually sufficient. He is approached by a waiter.)
Waiter: Good evening, sir, may I get you a drink?
Bond: Certainly. Three measures of Gordon’s gin, one measure of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet, shake it over ice then add a thin slice of lemon peel. And don’t stir it.
(The waiter rolls his eyes and shouts over to the barman.)
Waiter: Hey, Sid- another one!
Bond: What? I don’t-
Waiter: Every night we get guys in here who think they’re James Bond.
Bond: But I really-
Waiter: Yeah, right, just cos you’ve got a nice suit and know how to order a-
(Bond calmly shows the waiter his wallet, “accidentally” displaying his Walther PPK in its shoulder holster while doing so.)
Waiter: Oh! You actually are… A thousand apologies, Mr Bond, I’m so sorry.
Bond: Do I look as if I give a damn? Now, tell me, at which table is Mr Scrooge playing tonight?
Waiter: Table 3, he always plays at Table 3- claims it brings him luck since it’s the only table in here playing the special version of Cluedo.
Bond: Yes, well, we’ll see about that.
(He makes to walk away.)
Waiter: Mr Bond! You forgot your drink.
Bond: Keep it. You look like you need it more than I do.
(Bond begins to walk, but is interrupted by the short bespectacled man in a brightly-coloured suit.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Oh, groovy baby! I just can’t believe it!
(He produces a packet of cigarettes, takes one out and lights it. Bond brings out his own cigarette.)
Bond: Can I borrow a match?
Short Bespectacled Man: I use a lighter.
Bond: Better still. Until they go wrong.
(While the other is producing a lighter, Bond casually points his cigarette. A dart shoots out and hits smack in the centre of the brightly-coloured jacket.)
Short Bespectacled Man: Oh behave....
(Bond waits for the other to fall cross-eyed to the floor.)
Bond: I can't believe you fell for that one.
(A couple of casino employees rush to the scene.)
Bond: I told him smoking is bad for one’s health…
(He walks over to Table 3, breathing in the heady atmosphere of gambling for large stakes. He sees the imposing figure of Grimm Scrooge, with a beautiful woman on one side and a big, tough-looking man on the other.)
Grimm: I accuse Dr Snow, with the candlestick, in the underground lair!
(The croupier reaches for the envelope, opens it, and displays the cards held within.)
Croupier: Mr Scrooge wins again!
(The onlookers all talk appreciatively to each other. Phrases such as “He never loses!” and “How does he do it?” can be heard.)
Scrooge: (Addressing a nervous-looking elderly man, clearly his opponent.) Another game, Mr Wilson?
Mr Wilson: Yes, I think I-
(A woman about twenty years younger takes Mr Wilson by the elbow.)
Woman: That’s enough for one night, Michael. Let’s get out of here.
Mr Wilson: But Barbara-
Woman: Out!
(Reluctantly Mr Wilson allows Barbara to lead him, with the air of someone for whom this is no novelty. Bond slips into the now vacant seat. He’s humming the tune to “Last Christmas”- Bond shakes his head and mutters to himself “Serves me right for listening to Moneypenny’s record collection”.)
Bond: I would be prepared to take that game.
Scrooge: But of course, Mr….?
Bond: Bond, James Bond.
Scrooge: Ah, yes, Mr Bond- your reputation precedes you. Let me introduce you to Moana Lisa and Santajaws. (He gestures to either side of himself.) Strict rules of Cluedo, Mr. Bond. We play the special version here.
Bond: Naturally.
(The cards are expertly shuffled and three are placed into the envelope. The game proceeds with each player sizing up the opposition.)
Scrooge: Your turn Mr. Bond, and I will be announcing the winning solution on the next turn. (He removes his spectacles and places them next to him.)
Bond: In that case I will take player’s privilege and use your glasses.
(He quickly scoops up Scrooge’s spectacles and put them on revealing an x-Ray vision of the cards inside the envelope. Scrooge silently fumes but holds his temper.)
Bond: I accuse Lord Lucan with the lead pipe in the hollowed-out volcano.
(The onlookers gasp and applaud as the winning cards are revealed. Scrooge hands over a deep pile of chips.)
Scrooge: Spend it quickly, Mr. Bond; your liking for Last Christmas may well come true.
Scene 4. Bond takes his winnings and walks away from the table. A band has finished setting up, and begins to play “Good Morning Rovaneimi Town”. Bond exchanges a nod with the bass player. Scrooge’s partner, Moana Lisa, gets up and walks over to Bond. She's of more than average height with long, brown hair. Bond estimated that she had to be taller than that actor with the unbelievable southern accent in the "Knives Out" movie. She was stunningly beautiful with her face and everything else having classic features, but Bond could detect a glint of fear in her hazel eyes which her enigmatic half-smile failed to hide. She had no eyebrows or eyelashes. Her dress was very sombre, a simple brown fabric. Scrooge indicates for Santajaws to keep an eye on them.
Moana: I admire the way you played your hand, Mr Bond.
Bond: James, to my friends. Can I offer you a drink?
Moana: That is very kind of you. I’ll have a mulled wine.
Bond: And I’ll have-
Waiter: I think we’ve all got it by now, Mr Bond.
Bond: Actually, I’ll have an eggnog. (The waiter looks startled.) But I will have it shaken, not stirred.
(The waiter approaches the barman and orders the drinks.)
Barman: Eggnog for Mr. Bond? You’re joking!
Waiter: I never joke about my work.
Moana: You’re the first man I’ve met who I think could release me from the fearful hold which Scrooge has over me.
Bond: What, some embarrassing photos perhaps?
Moana: I was young! I needed the money! Er…. ahem, no, not that. Everyone I know is afraid of him, but you don’t seem to be afraid of anything.
Bond: Only Purvis & Wade, but that’s not important right now.
(Santajaws is lurking close by, watching, as the waiter returns with the drinks.)
Moana: Let’s go outside.
Bond: But of course.
(As they leave the casino two wardrobe girls sigh from the effort of handing Moana Lisa a large coat that several furry animals must have given up their lives for. Bond decided as he looked at Moana that the coat was worth their effort. They head to the open air which is icy cold.)
Bond: So your name is Lisa.
Moana: Moana Lisa, to tell the truth.
Bond: Your parents were art lovers?
Moana: No, just big Nat King Cole fans.
Moana: James… I have to tell you what Grimm is up to.
Bond: Please, go ahead.
Moana: You must know that he hates Christmas. Hates it with a passion, and all it stands for.
Bond: Yes, I know.
Moana: Later today he’s going to go to Lapland and… and… oh, it’s so awful, I can’t say it.
Bond: You have to try, Moana.
Moana: He’s going to shoot Santa Claus! On live TV so that all the children around the world will see it!
Bond: Shoot Santa?
Moana: Can’t you see you’ve got to stop him? You’re the only man who can!
Bond: But, Moana… Santa doesn’t exist!
Moana: What? But you’re James Bond! You haven’t aged a day since 1953! You’re supposed to be a secret agent but everyone knows who you are! Your face changes every ten years or so!
Bond: Ah… point taken. But listen, Moana-
(The sound of an arrow swishes through the air, followed by a thud. The projectile enters Moana’s neck from behind and the arrowhead appears from the front, a thin trickle of blood dripping onto her dress. Her eyes glaze over as Bond lays her down onto the floor.
Looking around, Bond spies Santajaws climb onto a snowmobile and head for the exit onto ice encrusted roads that led to the mountains. Running and pressing a keyfob, Bond jumps onto the sleighmobile provided by Q branch. The vehicle purrs into life with its 8 brp (brake reindeer power) drive and Bond uses the levers to head onto the road in pursuit of his quarry.
Q branch had issued James Bond with many forms of transport over the years- the Aston Martin, the jetpack, Little Nellie to name but three- but this particular mode of transport was the most ingenious yet. Worked by levers for speed and direction it was based on the classic Santa sleigh design, but with many additional features.
Bond switches on the main headlights and Santajaws’s snowmobile is caught in its beam as both vehicles cut through the thick ice covering the road making hissing noises as they turn corners, throwing up shards of ice. Snow begins to fall and the moonlight casts dark shadows across the landscape, while Bond presses a switch causing retractable snow shoes to emerge from the reindeers’ hooves. Bond presses one of the many buttons on the console and infra-red light shines out from the lead reindeer’s nose, (it's a very shiny nose; if you ever saw it, you might even say it glows) sending an image to the night vision screen on the dashboard. Bond touches a button and a heat-seeking mini-rocket is launched from the from of the sleighmobile, landing to the side of the snowmobile. The explosion makes it rock but Santajaws skilfully adjusts his balance and continues towards the mountains.
Pressing another button Bond sends a flurry of machine gun fire towards his prey, the clanging of metal confirming it hit the target. The superior speed of the sleighmobile has cut the distance between the vehicles to only a few yards when suddenly Santajaws swerves sharply and in a cacophony of metal grinding on ice brings the vehicle to a halt as a herd of reindeer block the road. Bond grabs the flamethrower from its holster and runs a few steps after the fleeing Santajaws, then stops, aims and pulls on the trigger. Santajaws screams as he turns into a human fireball, twisting and turning, falling onto the snow packed bank at the edge of the road, flames dying out as the snow dampens the heat. Smoke rises from the dead body as Bond peers down.)
Bond: Big fry.
(The sound of grunting, snorting and bellowing pricks Bond’s ears as the herd of reindeer that blocked the road is joined by a woman dressed in red and blue clothes.)
Bond: Well, that was good timing. My name’s Bond, James Bond.
Woman: Jingle Belle. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bond. It seems we have the same objective.
(Belle is a woman in her mid-twenties dressed in a knee-length blue jacket with ribbons and gold brooches splashing with colour in the pale white landscape. Her shapely legs are covered in red and blue leggings and on her feet she is wearing boots with an upturned toe made of reindeer fur. James Bond knew immediately that the striking apparel meant that Jingle was of the nomad Sami people, often called Lapps, who traditionally herded reindeer in the Arctic regions of Europe. While her clothes were striking, Bond is even more struck by the beautiful woman herself. She is of below medium height for the Nordic countries and her cheekbones are higher than average. Her skin is pale, but healthy. Jingle isn’t wearing anything on her head despite the cold temperatures, showing off her pixie-cut brown hair. Bond is immediately drawn to her green eyes and playful smile.)
Bond: Pleased to meet you. My hotel’s back there- can I offer you a lift, Jingle, all the way?