Eton

134

CHAPTER NINETEEN

     In the end, in more ways than one, it was a Pakistani index finger that was to give James Bond the opportunity to engage in battle once more with the evil Dr Goldnojaws.
     If anyone had asked Bond if he was a racialist he would have laughed in their face at the very suggestion. All colours and creeds were the same to James Bond, the issue of the colour of a person’s skin and their religion not even worthy of consideration - the only thing that mattered to Bond was whether the man or woman in question was good or evil, for the interests of Queen and Country or against them.
     Despite his total lack of any racist feelings Bond had always felt, indeed had always known, that the British as a race were superior of all foreigners, and the English the superior of all Britons. This fact, set in stone, had been planted in him as a child by his parents Grenville 'Flog the Darkies' Bond, J.P. and his wife The Hon Bunty Bond. It had been nurtured during his education at prep school and later at Eton, where he had rubbed shoulders with the sons of the British aristocracy, and had blossomed when he had taken up a career in one of the bastions of the British Establishment, MI6. Therefore when the Pakistani put his finger up Bond's bottom it was without any doubt the lowest point in the secret agent's life, and just that little bit lower than it would have been had it been an Englishman who had done it. The owner of the finger was a Dr Singh, The 'h' in Singh was silent, which is more than can be said for Bond a split second after the doctor's index finger had disappeared up his rectum.
     Despite having been educated at an English public school, where buggery is almost a compulsory subject along with Latin, Bond had somehow managed to hang on to his anal virginity, and up until his appointment with Dr Singh had only ever experienced the feeling of things coming down his rectum in the shape of faeces, and never up in the shape of a fat finger.