And then he logs onto Facebook.
His status today is, 'James Bond does not intend to talk.' In the comment section underneath his friend Auric Goldfinger has written, 'I do not expect you to talk, Mr Bond, I expect you to die!! :)'
Ernst Stavro Blofeld (status: 'is commemorating the death of Mrs Slocombe by stroking his furry white pussy') has added, 'I've got the piranhas waiting, if you need them, AG!! lol'
Bond notes with satisfaction that his list of friends is growing, thanks to the additions of Honeychile Rider and Tiffany Case. He smiles as he sees that the group, 'I kissed 007 and sighed, "Oh James ..."' has broken the 100-member mark.
There's a new wall-post from Q: 'Your new gyrocpter is ready. Do try to return it in one piece this time,' and another from Moneypenny: 'Free for dinner tonite - or ANY nite!!xoxoxox'
But he saves the best till last: a hilarious set of pictures of M on his recent summer holidays, larking about in his swimming trunks with Mrs M and assorted friends including a minor actress and a prominent Holocaust-denier. Bond looks at one of his boss's swimwear shots then writes, 'LMFAO!!! Leave that whole stepping-out-of-the-water-in-tiny-trunks thing to me!!'
And so on ...
... which leads me to the point. Over the weekend it was revealed that the new head of MI6, Sir John Sawyer had just been plastered all over Facebook, wearing his swimming trunks, by his adoring wife. The media immediately screamed that his security had been compromised. the government immediately pooh-poohed the very idea.
Both sides missed the point. It's not national security that has been affected by John Sawyer and his featherbrained missus, it's his dignity. The head of MI6 is supposed to be a figure of wisdom, mystery and power. Instead he turns out to be just another middle-aged idiot on a beach. The Secret Service has fallen into the hands of a fuckwit. Oh, great ...