On Bond, part deux

I’m havingĀ Kahurangi Estate riesling, and essentially feel I might as well be drinking lime juice. Puckery, this wine is. The good news is that while lime juice is virgin, this riesling has alcohol, so that’s a good thing.

Why do I go and see Bond movies? Why? The last time I saw one, I griped about it; I finally saw Spectre, and I shall now gripe about it, too.

That Bond-aged-Bond-girl Bellucci thing?! What a let down! Monica Bellucci is freaking gorgeous, and her role in the film was entirely pointless. There was zero reason for her character to be in it really, and the whole thing with Bond talking to her for 30 seconds at the funeral and then proceeding to have sex with her because, you know, she was there, was creepy. She was in mourning! She feared for her life! Fairly certain you were taking advantage of her fragile state of mind, Bond!! *eyes Bond with suspicion*

Anywho, in a minute Bond of course fell madly in lust with a skinny blonde a quarter of his age and saved the world. For when things go haywire, even Bond might fuck women his own age: normalcy can return when he has a young ‘un on his arm. Fairly certain it was all a big metaphor.

Not too keen on the theme song either.


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