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As far as I know, depressed drinking and reading isn't too fun.
Fine, what about if hes on the job.
You don't think he'd at least go out to a fancy bar for some drinks? See a film? Perhaps have a laugh by sending his target a secret santa? haha
I'm sure Connery-Lazenby-Moore-Brosnanbonds would all shack up with some babe and spend the week with her inevitably wealthy family
Dalton and Craigbond would probably be miserable, like Book Bond, who would probably go out and buy himself an expensive prossie to distract himself
personally I like to imagine him finally hooking up with Moneypenny, after the Christmas party
Bond- "Who is this from? *Shakes box and a bullet flies out* A new Walther? You shouldn't have, Q! C'mere and give your favorite agent a big ol' hug you big lug."
But again, lets have fun. Thats the spirit.
James Bond in – The Morning After
Bond – Good morning Penny (throws hat onto hat rack)
Moneypenny – Oh good morning James, I haven’t seen you since the night of the Christmas party
Bond – Ah hem, no
Moneypenny – You left awfully suddenly, 3 am in the morning wasn’t it?
Bond – Erm, yes, I suddenly remembered an important mission I hadn’t quite finished
Moneypenny – It’s been weeks and you’ve never called me once
Bond – Well, you know how it is with secret missions...
Moneypenny – Funny, I don’t see anything on the official secret missions list?
Bond – Hmmm? Oh well, must dash, better not keep M waiting...
Moneypenny – Actually he’s not back from his meeting with the PM yet
Bond – Oh... well perhaps I’ll just wait in his office then?
Moneypenny – You know that’s against regulations, he’d have your guts for garters, and mine
Bond – Hmmmm...
Moneypenny - Mmmmm...
Bond – (looks out the window and starts whistling “Born Free”)
Moneypenny – (under her breath) B*stard!
A little premature for any Holidays talk by the way
As each Bond is different and we've had six variations it's impossible to suggest what 007 would actually get up to, and I'm thinking strictly in terms of individual actors and wha they brought to the screen rather than the actual Fleming creation as a wholesome
And Thanksgiving is nearly a week away. Prime time for Holidays.
And I intended the character Bond when creating this thread. If you need to, you could pick an actor's Bond, but really it shouldn't matter.
Connery: Bond will be smuggling up with a beautiful lady in the Alps/or any setting with the backdrop of snow.
Lazenby: Sad about Tracy, maybe sitting in a chair by a warm fire.
Moore: At an MI6 Christmas party enjoying the company of colleagues and cracking some jokes about mistletoes.
Dalton: Most likely moping around or in a quiet place free of any other human beings.
Brosnan: Enjoying himself, also probably at an MI6 Christmas party joking with Moneypenny and Q.
Craig: Thinking about Vesper and what Quantum is up to, maybe drinking and forgetting or walking the snowy streets.
Bond is invited to M's (Judi Dench) apartment for her annual Christmas party which consists of soft Christmas jazz music playing in the background, an array of festive foods and a full bar. You can guess what beeline Bond makes. Yes, straight to the bar because he knows that once M gets a bit tipsy, the karaoke will begin and he'd rather not be sober when asked to sing Good King Wencelas.
As for bond, connery/moore/brosnan probably spent christmas in bed with some random girl, dalton would probably be on his own, lasenby would be remembering tracy and craig would spend it getting drunk on his own. Actually, bond would probably be working over xmas
@seve i dont think it was japan. I think that was new york or somewhere.
actually it's not incorrect, I just watched FRWL again last week and Bond does say that he and M had some fun in Tokyo
so movie Bond has been to Japan before YOLT
book Bond may not have been
from a thread started by a fine fellow called Calbrit
<u>Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas Mr Bond</u>
<b>From Santa With Love or Rhinestones Are For Re-gifting or Snowraker (Scenes from a James Bond Christmas)</b>
Q – “Open my one next 007”
Bond – “Alright” (shake, rattle, scratch, scratch, pick, rip, rustle, rustle, rip)
Bill Tanner – “Not bad 007, but 009 managed to open his in 11.3 seconds”
Bond – “Mrs Q does a mean job with the wrapping”
Q – “She’s been working on developing a new super strong cello-tape for months”
Bond – “What is it Q?”
Q - “It’s called a snow globe 007”
Bond – “How does it work?”
Q – “Well, first you turn it upside down like that, and let all the white flakes settle to the bottom, and then you quickly invert it, so that it’s right side up again, and you get a sort of snow flurry effect, do you see”
Bond – “Ingenious!”
Q – “Basic Newtonian physics 007, the transparent sphere is made of glass enclosing a miniaturised scene of some sort, together with water, which serves as the medium through which the "snow" falls. To activate the snow the globe can be physically shaken to churn up the white particles.”
Bond – “And there’s a hidden transmitter in the base?”
Q – “No”
Bond – “An explosive device then?”
Q – “No, no, 007, nothing like that, it is Christmas after all”
Bond – “Then what’s it for?”
Q – “For? For! It’s not for anything 007, it’s just looks pretty”
Bond – (hefting it in his hand) “Well, it’s quite solid, I suppose one might use it in a cosh”
Q – “Really 007! You know sometimes I despair over you”
Of course it had been very tempting to accept Ernst Stavro Blofeld’s invitation to spend Christmas with him and the gorgeous girls of Piz Gloria... but the Flemings were Bond’s oldest and dearest friends so he couldn’t let them down. In fact Ian Fleming had become like a second father to him after his parents were killed in a climbing accident when Bond was still a boy.
As always, the roast Turkey, brined not basted, had been prepared to perfection by Mrs Fleming, along with an exceptional stuffing, made to a recipe Bond had given her, from mushrooms, celery, carrots, onion, one large clove garlic, fresh sage leaves, a bay leaf or two, marjoram, thyme, a bit of rosemary, black pepper, chicken bouillon cubes, butter and oil, and some of the broth from simmering the giblets and neck of the turkey on the stove for a couple of hours. But of course the real secret was in the bread, cubed not crumbled, a combination of three types, a Brown Wheat, a White Sourdough and a Rosemary Olive Oil Round!
Bond, full up to the eyeballs, was about to sink into an arm chair by the fire with his brandy and doze off, when the Fleming’s neighbours kid, Eric Goldfinger, squirted him in the neck with his Baretta water pistol, from behind the curtain, for the umpteenth time.
Rueing the day that he had ever decided to give him such a present, Bond imagined taking the spotty little tic for a ride in the Aston Martin. All he would have to do is point to the ejector seat button, utter the magic words “don’t touch that” and let nature take its course...
Bottle of Jack Daniels on Christmas Eve, catering by Pied á Terre; nothing fancy, a choice of a few simple dishes going with the bourbon. Afterwards Bond sits in the dark flat at the window, sharpening his shoe dagger and aiming with his gun at people for practice till he passes out. Repeat routine until either Boxing Day or the red secure line at his flat rings to announce an assignment in the Swiss Alps, usually the only assignments Bond takes in the holiday season.
EDIT: Bond considers this to be a HAPPY Christmas.
It was dark and still in the living room, when all of a sudden there was a faint scuffling sound and a pair of black boots landed with a puff of charcoal dust in the fireplace
The fat man with the white beard and the red suit dusted himself off as he stepped from the hearth and took in his surroundings. His well-practised eye missed nothing. He glanced at the Christmas tree with indifference and let out a resigned sigh, then his gaze fell on the glass of milk and the plate of mince pies on the table and his eyes lit up. He rushed over and began greedily shovelling them into his gaping maw. He paused for a moment and reached for the milk, but just as he was about to raise the glass to his lips he let out a choking gasp, staggered and fell back onto the floor with a thump. After a moment another familiar figure emerged from the shadows behind the drapes...
...It was dark and still on the rooftop, when once again there was a faint scuffling sound. Then a red hat emerged from the chimney and beneath it a familiar head covered with woolly white hair. As he continued to squirm up out of the hole, another familiar figure wearing a white tuxedo pulled himself up over the eves and moved silently over the tiles with a catlike grace.
“Not so fast fat boy” said Bond poking the bearded one between the shoulder blades with his Barretta
“Who are you?” challenged Bond
“Why, I’m Santa of course” came the reply
“Poppycock, everyone knows that’s just kids stuff” scoffed Bond
“Are you really so sure, Mr Bond?” sneered the man in red
Bond’s jaw clenched, then with one swift motion he reached up and tore off the hat and beard
“Blofeld!” exclaimed Bond, working his way around the chimney to face his adversary
The Moonlight glistened on the bald Christmas bauble of a head
“Yes, Mr Bond, I’m back! All the way back and at the head of an even more dangerous organisation that before; - SANTA! The Secret Association of Nihilists, Terrorists and Anarchists!” cried Blofeld in triumph
“And what fiendish scheme have you cooked up this time?”
“Please Mr Bond, you make it sound like a Christmas dinner”
“Never mind that, what gives?”
“Nothing less than the complete and utter destruction of Christmas itself!” hissed Blofeld, “In side this sack I have enough acid after-shave, exploding deodorant sticks and poison perfume to kill every parent in the World when they open their presents on Christmas morning!”
“But what’s in it for you?”
“Nothing, after I and my minions took over the North Pole, I contacted the UN with my usual demands, but like you none of them believe in SANTA either... but I’m going to change their minds about that, very soon!”
“What happened to the real Santa Claus then?”
“I’m holding him back at the workshop as a hostage”
“So who’s the stiff downstairs?”
“That’s Number 12, he was delegated to carry out the plan, however I discovered that he had gone soft and was going to deliver the original presents, so he had to be eliminated, and you know what they say, if you want something done properly you’d best do it yourself”
“Exactly, so I’m personally going to make sure your goose is cooked this time”
“There you go with the food metaphors again!”
“Listen pal, don’t try to tell me my job, and besides there are no beautiful girls in this story for me to make puns to, so you'll take it and like it"
“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, now Vixen! On Comet, On Cupid, On Donner and Blitzen!” shouted Blofeld
Bond felt several sharp points of pain as a pair of antlers jabbed him in the back and knocked him off balance on the sloping surface of the roof
As Blofeld dropped from sight down the chimney to make his escape, Bond dived forward and managed to grab hold of the deadly sack before Blofeld could drag it in after him
Bond rolled away from flailing hooves and scrambled to shelter behind the chimney. He could hear Blofeld scuffling his way down the shaft, he reached into the bag and pulled out a deodorant, he studied it intently for a moment, then, with a shrug, he unscrewed the top and threw it down the chimney, like a grenade. There was an explosion and the sound of collapsing brickwork before a final spurt of coal dust burst from the top of the chimney.
“Now I’d better go and rescue the real Santa” said Bond shooting his cuffs
Then, looking at his Rolex oyster perpetual watch, he frowned, “No, that will have to wait, there are presents to deliver!”
Bond hopped up onto the sleigh “Not quite like the Aston Martin, but if the rumours are true... now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, now Vixen! On Comet, On Cupid, On Donner and Blitzen!” and with that, the reindeer jumped forward pulling the sleigh up into the night sky to carry out it’s special mission