I’ve been re-reading Simon Winder’s book “The Man Who Saved Britain” which I fished out of a pile of stuff I was going to take to the second-hand shop (small plastic globe, candle-holder, CRT-era screen-guard, hideous tie, “Assembly Language Programming for the Amstard CPC 464, etc). The book is about James Bond, and his wider cultural influence and meaning, of having come about just as the British Empire was completely disintegrating, and therefore acting as a supreme, and almost unique, consolation for a country in decline.
And it’s great – I’ve been chuckling along all week and annoying people by reading bits to them. Although I wince with his merciless treatment of Roger Moore as the naffest incarnation of Bond (I personally think Roger Moore knew exactly how ludicrous Bond was and was just the time of his life. Even though I let out an genuine cry of grief every time he dresses up as a clown in Octopussy).