Bond Girls

And take this business of the one-liners, the corny asides that the screen Bond came out with at the drop of a hat. That sort of thing was not in the real James Bond’s repertoire at all. And yet because of the films people now expected it of him, colleagues, adversaries, Bond Girls et al, and were quite disappointed when he didn’t exit their presence with a witty remark. Although not without wit himself Bond had neither the time nor the inclination to dream up a stock of witty remarks for the express enjoyment of whomsoever he should encounter whilst on one of his many assignments. True he had come up with the one he’d used in the company of Pisa Vass the other week but that was the exception rather than the rule.
He had mentioned the problem to M who had promptly engaged a scriptwriter to provide him with the necessary one-liners. However the venture had been far from a success as no sooner had the scriptwriter become a civil servant than he completely lost all his sense of humour.
Bond wondered, as he sat in M’s office, if M had done anything about the situation. The office had changed little since Bond had first entered it, all those missions ago. Sparsely but comfortable furnished, a large oak desk on which sat three telephones, two black, one red, the latter a direct link to No 10 Downing Street; a couple of filing cabinets; three more comfortable leather-upholstered chairs in addition to the one behind M's desk; a red Axminster carpet that had seen better days, a hat stand, and that was just about it.
Bond had been summoned by M to be briefed on his next assignment but no sooner had M started on the brief than he had been called out to deal with an urgent problem in Z Section. Now, as he awaited M's return, Bond reflected on the many other times he had sat in this chair, the starting out point for all double-o missions. He chuckled quietly to himself as he recalled the very first time, a time so long ago in fact that M had still only been L. Bond had just passed his twentieth birthday and had only been with MI6 for four months, raw, callow, but as eager and ambitious as they come. L's briefing was still so clear in his mind that it could almost have been yesterday.
“I won’t even attempt to make any bones about this, James," L had said. "Operation Red Raider will be a tough one, and no doubt about it. A mission that will be absolutely fraught with danger every step of he way. However I have every faith in you, and provided you don’t take any unnecessary risks there is an excellent chance you’ll come through. Fortitude will be your ally, James. And Pluck. Fortitude and Pluck.”