From time to time, I your truly humble correspondant (bite me Bill O’Reilly), get letters asking for advice as to how to live the Bond lifestyle. What I offer here is a selection of letters that are typical of the ones I get monthly.

Enjoy.

B.K.E.

Dear JQ,

Every time I try to get my draws off quickly like Bond, my hammer snags on my dinner jacket. What can I do? What would Bond do? Can you suggest holsters? My weapon is a Browning Hi-Power MKIII. PLEASE HELP ME JQ, I’M THE LAUGHING STOCK OF THE LOCAL DOUBLE ‘OHS’ *breaks down*”

I feel your pain. Proper attire is key to the success of any mission, and all agents have had their wardrobe get in the way of saving the world at one point or another. (Actually, that isn’t true. It’s just you, but I am saying this to make you feel better)

Might I suggest getting your suits done up at Q recommended tailor on Saville Row. Those suit makers understand the needs of agents and can design a suit that is snag free.

If that doesn’t work, might I suggest that you NEVER HANDLE A WEAPON AGAIN BECAUSE YOU ARE CLEARLY UNQUALIFIED TO DO SO.

Dear JQ:

I have a crush on a male colleague. I am also a male. How can I ever tell him?

Office romances are always tricky and must be dealt with with absolute discretion. After gauging from trustworthy sources that your interest is returned (especially important in your case), suggest a meeting outside the office boundaries, perhaps for coffee or the like, but not a full meal. If things go badly, you don’t want to look at this person for the rest of the meal, do you? What you want to do is be polite, pick up the check, and leave as quickly as manners will allow. Of course if things go well, a full meal is fine, as are other things, as long as it doesn’t become obvious around the office.

Chere Madame X

I durn’t knurr what to do, nor whhhhhere to turn. For zhirty years now, I’ve been out of a jurb and I zuzpect eet’s somezhing tur do wiz who ma previous employer wurz. Should I include ‘is name on ma c.v.? I ‘ave many zkills – cordon bleu chef, ze ability to wear a bowler ‘at in a natty fashion, ze prized skill amongst gentlemen’s valets of being able to be furlded up in the zuitcase along with zer shirts, ze benefit to any employer of being able to communicate in a reediculouss french aczentttt – et tant pis! no-one will touch me. Zose who can see me above ze desk, anyway.

Bogota

What you need to do is to learn to accent your best traits. By your letter I can see you are a well put together man, with terrific household skills. And since you appear to have had a falling out with your former employer, I suggest you follow the example of your fellow butler-of-taste, Mr. Paul Burrell, and sell out your former employers in a tell all book.

True, spilling secrets isn’t usually the way of the double-oh, but getting revenge always is, and revenge is a dish best written about.

Dear Madame X

Julius N.

The best advice I can give you Julius is not to take typing lessons from 003.

Dear Xenobia
I have a really serious problem which I’d like to discuss with you in a measured tone in the first half of this letter. It’s led to great introspection and I feel tortured as a result of it. Literally, tortured.
For no apparent reason I’m now going to go Wee! Fizz! Bang! Cackle cackle BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM. CRASHYCRASHY WOWEEEEEE.


I fear it’s terminal.

Budleigh Salterton Home for the terribly excitable

Dear Alphabet Soup boys:

You are right; it is terminal. If you keep writing for the series as you currently do, you will kill your career and that of hundreds of innocent others. Might I suggest reading the works of better authors, for example Danielle Steele or Jilly Cooper, and using them as a guide.

Dear Madame X

James Bond

1) You are not James Bond.

2) Since the young Russian hottie model that you have been shagging for four years evidently hasn’t helped matters, might I suggest Lexapro, at fifteen milligrams, once a day?

You will be feeling like a man in no time.

Dear Miss X:

Mr. Zao, Mr. Trevelyan, Mr. Leiter, Mr. Zokas, Mr. Blofeld, Mr. Big/Dr. Kananga, Mr. Sanchez, Mr. Quarrel, Miss May Day (on everyone’s request), and the chap who got thrown into the snow plough at Piz Gloria.

Unfortunately, I do not, but I can ask some monkeys and elephant men who probably have Michael Jackson’s number, if you would like.

Dear Miss Xenobia,

Mistuh Kil

Now, now, no need for violence. This isn’t a Mel Gibson biblical flick you know.


I suspect you give Monseuir P of one of the letters above some time to improve his craft, and I am sure he will give you a new name quite soon.

In the mean time, simply refer to yourself as MK. People will assume that you are a rapper, and they will shower you with money and gifts. Of course, you may have to let out a rhyme or two, but with a man of your talents, I doubt that would be a problem.


And if it is, you can use the laser on them.

Dear Miss Xenobia:

Hi! I have a vested interest in learning how to be like Bond. What would you say are the five key elements to being Bond?


Yours,

HJ

HJ, I am glad you wrote. I will be happy to answer your questions…in FOUR BLOODY YEARS.

Back of the line mate. The Pax Brosnan era ain’t over.