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6
CHAPTER
TWO
Two weeks had gone by since Bond’s traumatic experience with
Pisa Vass and for most of those two weeks his mood had been one of abject
despair. He hadn’t for the life of him been able to make any sense of the
unfortunate episode. It was only when he applied the same analytical methods to
the phenomenon that he applied to his job as a secret agent that he saw
daylight. First he asked himself how many beautiful women, ‘Bond
Girls’ as they had come to be known thanks to the James Bond film
franchise, he had made love to over his years as a secret agent. An educated
guess informed him that the figure was six hundred, or as near to that as made
no difference. Next he had determined how many days per month the average woman
of child-bearing age spent having her period. Without managing to get his faced
slapped by some angry female he had found out that the figure was five days,
thanks to Miss Moneypenny, who had kindly took it upon herself to acquire the
information for him. Thankfully she hadn't asked him why he wanted it, which
saved him from having to spin her the cock-and bull story he had dreamed up
about the Russians' plan to harness the power of pre-menstrual tension, which
seemed a tad far-fetched, even for the Russians. Dividing the number of days in a month into five gave the answer one sixth, more-or-less, and dividing one sixth into the six hundred Bond Girls he had slept with over the years gave a total of one hundred. Therefore by the law of averages one hundred of the six hundred Bond Girls should have been having their period when he had propositioned them. And yet the actual figure was none. Absolutely none. Once he had seen it in this light he realised how very fortunate he had been in the past and his mood had improved no end. After all, he consoled himself, why should I be entitled to period-free women more than the next man, I go to the lavatory as often as other people in fact more than other people since he’d developed the damned prostate gland problem that plagued his waking hours nowadays, not to mention the sleeping hours when it woke him up – although you would never know it from reading the Bond books and viewing the films, as on not a single occasion had the Bond who portrayed him in the books and films ever visited the lavatory. In truth Bond didn't much care for the Bond books and cared even less for the films, with their over reliance on special effects and ridiculous chases in every mode of transport known to man. He wasn't impressed by the actors who had been chosen to portray him on the silver screen either, neither the Scottish wife-beater whose attempt to say 'Susie, Susie, sitting in a shoeshine shop would come out something like Shusie, Shusie, Shitting in a shoeshine shop if he were ever to have a stab at it, nor the one who had serial wandering eyebrows, nor any of the other hams they'd tried over the years. |