James Bond finished his quarterly sales report and sat down. Mr. Anderson, the assistant area manager said nothing. David Morris, Bond's line manager broke the silence "Yes, thank you Jim, that was very... well, um, thank you." Bother, Bond thought to himself, looks like another year where they aren't going to give me the promotion. It must my turn by now. Maybe if i had used three colours on the pie-chart?
"Pay attention, 007!" Q flourished yet another flame-throwing umbrella, pointing out the concealed breathing apparatus. Bond sighed and wondered if, this time, his replacement vehicle might not be a VW Passat or maybe an Espace.
"Hurry up, James! I need you to pick up my dry-cleaning on your way back from the school run and don't forget you're taking Ellie & Oliver to pony club tonight." HIs wife swirled out of the house and he carried on cutting the crusts off Olly's peanut butter sandwiches.
"It looks like a simple charge coupled disilicon sandwich, commonly used in infrared satellite imaging, judging by the machining I'd say it was Korean?" M marvelled at how their best field agent seemed so effortlessly well informed, she fought hard not to look impressed. "Correct, we want to know why it turned up in Caraccas." "I'll leave immediately, sir."
Bond leaned over the microphone "The library is closing in ten minutes, please bring your selections to the front desk. Thank you." The last of the public had left and he spent a few minutes rearranging the periodicals. His colleague, Miss Jones was shutting down the computers. "Er, Maggie, I was wondering if you'd like to go for a coffee sometime? With me? er.. if you are free that is.." "Oh, James! that's terribly sweet but I'm.. I'm.. Not right now, but thanks!"
"Mr. Bond? If my plans to control all the world's oil bore you, I can just kill you now?" Bond feigned interest while absent-mindedly picking the lock on his handcuffs. A few minutes later he was hangliding away from the exploding mountain, his mind drifting.