Tuesday, 4 November 2008

[Turtlewind] The Name's Turtlewind, Mr Turtlewind...



Dear Mr James Bond

First let me say how much I admire your dedication to the secret services and the war on terror in your recent documentary Goldeneye. Your tireless devotion to eradicating terrorists by, er, blowing up trains and hijacking aircraft is an example to us all.

Especially to me. I've long been a most esteemed secret agent, you see, although obviously under very deep cover. So deep in fact that last time I was at GCHQ (where did you get the ingenious idea to disguise it as a contract publisher in Southwark?) they mistook me for someone else - 'wanker' is obviously the codename for 004, the slightly esteemed Mr Christopher Coldplay.

Don't worry, not trying to trick you into giving away any national secrets. But for a man almost as physically intriguing as myself to be having naughty-bumpy with the incorrigible Miss Gwyneth Paltrow AND to wander around talking like hippy scum without being assailed by all manner of assailants - you can't expect ME to believe a flimsy cover story about him being in a dull rock band.

Anyway. Enough about me. I write because I am afraid your carefree lifestyle is interfering quite intolerably with my own. I refer of course to your habit of having naughty-bumpy with European ladies of pleasing proportions. I am not sure whether your giddy cocktail of suave charm and explosive thrills has raised their standards or if you've simply bagged all the easy ones, all I know is that I asked the entreprenurial shortsightedsovietstunnahs.com for a nubile young companion with boobies and everything and ended up with a rude lady with a sinking face who eats crisps in the kitchen.

She probably does have boobies and everything but after she trapped Barry in the fridge, I'm a little nervous to check.

So in your next documentary, which I understand will involve you going back to some Casino - like Buena Vista Social Club but with better music, I suppose - I have the following suggestions:

1) Mr James Bond could form a relationship with Russian lady Ivanna Eatniknaksalot and teaches her the value of manners, skincare and good nutrition. Or shoots her. I'm good either way.

2) Mr James Bond could form a relationship with Terri Hatcher again, or any 'minger' (as my good friend my James Oliver tells me they're called) so the world can see that even the most unpromising and lonely person can find naughty-bumpy with a suave secret agent in a tuxedo. I did mention I'm not gay?

3) Mr James Bond could tire of his naughty bachelor exploits and pass on his amorous mantle to his enigmatic young sidekick Tirtlewund - who in a twist ending will finally snub the heroine to finally meet the woman of his dreams - the blue girl out of the Ulysses cartoon.

I'm sure you can see how well any or all of these ideas would improve your next adventure.

Although Barry tells me I have a strict no-nudity clause and Mike Oldfield has to do the theme song.

Please don't force me to add the death of a tractor taster to your already heavy conscience.

Happy times and places.

Your friend
The Mysterious Mr Turtlewind, Esq. OHMSS

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