(The Original)

Amateur Scribe

The Spook Who Loved Me (continued)

Craig (ignoring him): Moore and Brosnan – you guys are running surveillance. All Hussain’s known contacts must be watched. We have rigged up a state-of-the-art satellite tracking system you’ll be able to operate from one central vehicle allowing you to report back anything out of the ordinary to the team here…

Moore (suddenly worried): One vehicle? At least tell me it’s an Aston Martin DB5?

Craig: Er, ‘fraid not.

Moore: Submersible Lotus Esprit??

Craig: Ford Transit.

Moore (broken): Sweet Jesus! Throw me a bone here! How the hell am I supposed to pull the dusky Muslim babes in one of those?

Dalton: Perhaps not having your mind in your pants for once will allow you to stay focussed on the job in hand.

Moore: Timmy, PLEASE! You know I can’t concentrate on a mission unless I’m sexually slaked. The only loaded gun I need when I’m jumping out of a plane into a jungle full of tooled-up mercenaries is my trusty revolver. Believe me. Blowing away an evil nemesis and delivering a pithy one-liner is a lot trickier when you’ve got a semi lob on.

Craig: OK, OK. Moving on. Dalton – you’re to stay here and co-ordinate the operation – you’ll act as back up to the others and keep them up to speed.

Dalton: Oh, that’s right – Double O status for twenty years – over a hundred confirmed kills and a snappy theme tune by A-Ha, and you’re reducing me to desk monitor. I’d didn’t sign up for this mission to be the next Colin or Malcom. It’s because I’m Welsh, isn’t it?

Craig: It’s not the Welshness – more the dullness. Which just leaves Lazenby. Where the hell did he get to?

Moore: Just texted him - I thought I’d send him off for some Starbucks and Krispy Kremes before he could regale us with more of his dubious theories on modern terrorism.

Connery: Shplendid - I could murder a donut. If we're done here, Shonny Jim, I've got Mish Monneypenny in a bathful champersh to attend to, show if you'll excuse me, I'll have my coffee to go.

Nods disdainfully at Craig and exits

Harry: I don't much care what pathetically prehistoric spying stereotypes you men subscribe to - just make sure you get the job done. Right - get out of my sight.

Lazenby returns laden with coffee and snacks just as the other agents exit noisily, leaving Harry alone - head in his hands

Lazenby: Right - what did I miss? Hey where's everyone going?

Looks up at image on the wall.

Lazenby: Oh, we're still on old Mustapha, are we? Just bumped into him outside Starbucks. Nasty piece of work. Popped a cap in his ass, as I believe the modern parlance goes. Cappuccino, Harry?

December 2006

Add Comment

You are viewing the text version of this site.

To view the full version please install the Adobe Flash Player and ensure your web browser has JavaScript enabled.

Need help? check the requirements page.


Get Flash Player