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‘(NOT) Being James Bond’

New years day for me is always one of reflection. A look back on the previous 12 months to draw a conclusion whether it was good or bad.

2012 for me was a good year, comedically everything I wanted to do I largely did. Family wise all went well. Work is, well work but on the whole the scales tipped strongly into the green of ‘good year’.

One of my highlights of 2012 was the release of Skyfall. The latest in the series of James Bond films. Why does this rank so highly in my list of ‘good shit’ in 2012 you ask? Well, the truth is, when it comes to James Bond, I’m a geek. I have an un-healthy (though not psychotic) obsession for 007 and all that comes with it.

Sean ConneryWhat is it that qualifies me as a geek?

Is it that I own all of the films? No
Is it that I own the books upon which the films are based? No
Is it that I own books about the books upon which the films are based? No

Or, is it that during a short stint working at a major auction house in London, and upon finding myself alone in a room with 3 dinner suits on mannequins that I decided the best thing to do was hug the one worn by none other than Sean Connery. By the way, I’m talking a proper hug. More of a…

’Daddy’s off to war and has 2 hopes of coming home’ type hug.

To be honest it’s probably a combination of all those things, including my commitment to take a day off work when Connery dies.

So typically, as other Bond fans will testify, when the release date for a new film gets close the excitement starts to boil away. So, I got excited, I got tickets, I went to see it and I f*cking loved it. However, in spite of me loving it there was a bittersweet feeling about the experience, an all too familiar realisation reoccurred.

The reason for this is the following…

One of the greatest tragedies of my life is that given how much I love 007, I am the complete opposite. I share none of the characteristics that make him, him.

Twat

Physically there’s no similarity whatsoever. I don’t have the broad shoulders, the strong arms or the thick head of hair. I look like the results of a test-tube smoothie that has had spunk contributions from Messrs Ross Kemp, Ernst Blofeld and Dr Evil. That combined with a nose that’s been broken somewhere between 3-7 times and a slightly hairy back… you get the general idea. Oh I also have an arse you could eat your dinner off, not that I’m saying it’s that clean, I just mean you could put a tray on it.

Suaveness is not a personality trait that I possess either, I don’t have the ability to engage in witty repartee that doesn’t become inappropriate – Largely because I’m a bit of prick. For example, put in a position by a femme fatale who asks Bond to describe how he’ll hold her later that night, I’m pretty sure that ‘like a bowling ball’ is not the answer he would give. But hey, that’s just me.

I can’t pilot a helicopter, can’t disarm a nuclear missile and don’t own any cool gadgets. In fact, the only gadget I own is an iPhone, but even then the screen is f*cked which makes that redundant.

Shaken Not StirredSo then, after all that you’re left with one thing, the drink – Vodka Martini, shaken, not stirred. Surely I can (bad pun alert) ‘bond’ with 007 on this one, it should be easy enough. Order a vodka Martini, drink vodka Martini, ‘feel’ like James Bond.

“Simple?”

“Nope!”

First of all it tastes like shit, it’s literally rank. Drinking it makes you pull one of those faces you might pull if you’ve ejaculated and just realised you’ve been f*cking Kerry Katona.

Secondly, it is IMPOSSIBLE to order a vodka Martini.

If you order it without saying ‘shaken, not stirred’ you may as well not bother. The barman wants you to say it, you want to say it, however not saying it makes you look like you don’t have the balls. Perversely though, you can’t actually say it either – If you do order a vodka Martini and utter the immortal phrase ‘shaken, not stirred’, you WILL get overheard and no matter who you are, you WILL look like a complete and utter twat. Some utter, raging sort will hear you order THE drink using THE words.

It happened to me recently and got overheard and this beautiful girl, laughing she said to me..

“who do you think you are, James Bond?”

“Yes” I replied, “Fancy being held like a bowling ball?”

Holding a bowling ball

Follow Martin Wyatt on Twitter here, or visit his site www.martinwyatt.com

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