"Kinky Butterfly Martini"

The conference -? Of which I spoke yesterday -?

...Well, put it this way - you saw Ben Bernanke on Bloomberg this morning, you must have or at least you certainly should have. The modern world consists of people in various positions of power who are so totally disconnected from the wider reality, and who live so completely within their own cocoon, that whatever comes out of their mouths is so self-confident that it seems so true and correct in the moment - and of course it is from their perspective. Except that it is actually utter crap. There are few decent words to describe the sheer mindless arrogance, selfishness, and intellectual isolation of these people, and how those traits have so many problematic consequences. For one thing, they have absolutely no sense of responsibility (shown to the public, at least) for anything, ever, except when they all want to pat themselves on the back for a job well done... in their own mind and in their own self-involved fantasies.

They have no shame over the fact that multiple millions of people think they are criminals and charlatans at best.

The actor, Josh Burrow, my pick for Bond -
a strong competent actor, and sometimes electrifying with
the right director

I appreciate that we have a global movement that is seeking to break a few sacred cows around the place. I get that. But my own feeling is these people are all incompetent. Yes, the Stock Market, whilst stunningly volatile, is up, and quite high, for the second. And yes, the new James Bond, coming out end of this month, will keep playing this insistent 'gay' theme.

Now well, you won't find me objecting in quite the same way as the religious Right about it all. I'm not sure how they all step blithely over the 'and the disciple whom Jesus loved most...' bit, in the Gospels. But you see, equivalently, I can show you how that individual was a woman dressed as a man, and not some 'gay' relationship thing that was going on under the radar!

Okay so hang it all, let's do a JW-version of the gay theme in the 007 framework.

Now my own father's first cousin was the infamous 'Zero Degrees Kelvin' McClory, of Thunderball notoriety. And my own uncle, Glen Johnson, of Shell Far East, secured a critical percentage of the original production budget money, and so I feel entitled to give you my own rendering of what James Bond today ought to look/play like as a screenplay.

Nic Kidman, at this year's Omega new line launch
in South Korea
Should have been a Bond girl forever

Here is our Nic all dressed up for the South Korean launch of the latest Omega line (and that is a Bond accoutrement brand, so it's appropriate). We should be having Nic v. Bellucci as the girls - and indeed, they should be women, not girls, in a Bond flick.

And here is the most stunning, outstanding, male alto (countertenor) voice singer doing a song that fits into my story idea. There's the male gay element. I'm not sure if you've noticed that the producers pulled Sam Smith's initial released version of his 'okay' Spectre Bond theme song, and replaced it with a massively re-worked, full cinematic orchestral-backed and arranged version within days of the first upload of the song onto Vevo and YouTube.

As Malachi Martin once said: 'the ordinary homosexuals I know are appalled at where these people are heading with their agendas.' Isn't it surprising that a prominent churchman would use the phrase of more or less (badly quoted, I know): 'ordinary gays I (that is, he) knows...?' Hmn. Ordinary, gays. Well, put it this way, I certainly don't think the people pushing Bond into a gay franchise are extraordinary, whether gay or otherwise. They're simply not extraordinary anything. And certainly they're not ordinary either. But they are banal.

So... I'll not go deeply here into my story-line for the para-latest Bond epic. Not too far into it anyway. Stay tuned though, there'll be snippets regularly. 

We will, though, make a beginning here and now...

"007" said M, looking up from white-knuckled, clasped hands pressed hard against the highly-polished real walnut-surfaced desk-top.

"M." Bond responded, in a relaxed out-breath, as he sat down deeply into the admiralty button patterned, dark mulberry-color, Levant leather visitor's chair.

"Double Oh Seven, we believe that there is a very high level assassination contract out on the king of Saudi Arabia, and we think that it is about to be carried out. And we also have an assessment that says there is a strong chance that it might succeed."

James Bond looked directly at his Superior. How was M going to give him this job now, after Bond had left that NATO/IDF Special Ops man out there in New Zealand with the earthquake going on, and conveniently being able to cover over the fact that... Well, the man wasn't coming back at any rate.

He knew M must have had his suspicions.

"Want you to shadow the Russian agent, the so-called 'final Gorgon,' Bond. The impressively credentialed Moscow professional killer, whose real name neither we nor the Americans appear to have, and whose only recent description we have from one now pretty traumatized and virtually castrated Kuwaiti."

"Fangs and red eyes?" James Bond poorly joked, carelessly, and somewhat dismissively.

"Red hair, Oh Oh Seven. Hair. Dyed on top. Might be any color now. She's known to change her looks regularly. But her real hair color is red. Do you think you'll have any trouble getting to 
find out what her real, natural hair color is, Bond?" M pushed back, snidely.

Bellucci, the second Bond woman -
is she good? Is she bad? Does she have red hair?

"Well that very much depends, sir."

"Depends, Oh Oh Seven? Depends on what?"

"On whether her looks will turn me to stone, sah."

"Oh shut up Bond. Just get out there to Riyadh, and pitch up at a particular function Section D will get you an invitation to, and make your way around all the females there and see whether you can discover who this assassin woman is, and then keep a tight watch."

"Don't you want me to eliminate her?"

"I want you to see if you can find her first, Oh Oh Seven. And then we'll put it to the Americans that we have her in sights so to speak, and then they'll confer with the Israelis, and then we'll see what each of us wants to do about it."

What if I killed the king myself and then pinned it onto her, Bond played the thought through the camouflage bushes of his mind, hoping that M wouldn't realize how disgusted he had become with the whole security establishment, and its conniving with big money interests and their bought politicians at the highest levels of all Western governments. 
    
Being the expert gambler that he was, James Bond was pretty sure all the bureaucrats and senior department officials that he encountered regularly - even M - couldn't see through his poker face if he didn't want them to. He had turned, of course. Ever since Thatcher and maybe even a little before, he was being asked to work for, to risk his life for, and show absolute loyalty to an interlocked network of petty thieves and paedophiles, media-baron slaves, and money-grubbing self-interested charlatans and 'secret cliques' who had destroyed his beloved Great Britain and without so much as a passing glance.

How did they expect that no one would react against them, from the innermost echelons themselves? How could they ever expect to get away with a stealth takeover of British values? And have no one from within do anything about it.