Please sir can I have some Moore?

Observe the orthography if you will, we are not in Dickens territory,  but in the grown up boys world of Ian Fleming, and perhaps the best loved of all the actors to reprise the role of 007 Mr Roger Moore.

How does this fit in with my blog? (apart from it being MY blog and therefore can introduce whomsoever I desire....), oh Good Evening Mr and Mrs Noah, mislaid one of the pair of the white cats for your upcoming nautical adventure?

  But I digress, I have managed to escape from the jaws

of those cool and aloof world dominating villains, Dr. Diabetes and Colonel Kidney Failure with all their attendant evil henchmen.

(I often wonder during these films what it must be like to be a henchman; presumably they have lives outside the evil organisation they have opted to work in? To have their lives extinguished (as they invariably are…. 
(oh look at the evil henchman, How long will he last in this scene?) 
belies the fact that before they joined the malign employer they had a life before that. They once were little hench babies and children, then went to a hench school as hench students, went on to hench college or university (for the higher achieving henchmen, in charge of evil physics labs and twisted science facilities) before embarking out in their chosen career as an evil henchman. Following an advert in the local paper, they invariably attend an interview with Evil human resources at the Evil Organisation Inc.

So Mr Henchman Where do you see yourself in 5 years’ time? Can you describe the qualities required for this henchman role? Imagine you are in control of a secret nuclear plant and a British secret agent attacks you from behind: how would you react?

To which of course the HR Dept  is looking for the following answers:

 In 5 years’ time you will be dead, either killed by MI6 or sacrificed by our own evil Chairman in his devilish plot to destroy the world.

We require unquestioning loyalty and a distinctly neutral attitude to mass destruction.

When attacked by 007, typically you would fall down dead, or in extreme circumstances throw yourself over a balcony.

As a reward for helping to facilitate global destruction you can expect a free uniform, a generous healthcare scheme to aid with all the injuries you are likely to encounter, not to mention the camaraderie of working alongside fellow evil minded colleagues. Alas there is no pension as you will undoubtedly be killed long before retirement age.

But back to the narrative….

There have been a few minor wobbles along the way, mainly to do with the kidney side of matters, but the one constant since July has been the total success of the operation to target and destroy the life endangering diabetes.

leaving me unrestricted in my eating habits, feasting as I do every day on simple fare:

Indeed I have begun to develop a new liking for previously untested treats, for example something as ordinary as good old ice cream, which was previously taken in moderation, can now be eaten without a care. I often can be espied upon the sofa with a delicious bowl of French Vanilla readying for my feast, moulding and shaping the cone of cold desert prior to consuming. for which I use my trusted untensils, a mould finger and a spoon raker.

Other new treats to my palate include the tradition of morning and afternoon tea with all the attendant cakes and fancies that come with that fine English tradition, as modelled here by the charmingly evil Dr Hugo Drax.

I have also discovered the delicious delights of the Ginger Crunch Slice, the Coffee and Walnut Slice and many more slices known to mankind. Truly wicked, but after 40 years of abstentia can you blame me? 
As I slowly and sensuously peel off the wrapper from a Mars Bar, it appears to wink in coquettish allure, surely it says I am your treat to behold and savour, to linger over the chocolate yumminess,  for your eyes only. I take the plunge and devour the morsel only to realise that only four months ago this very type of sensory visual treat surely would be a view to a kill.

But I must resist this temptation of treats, out of respect for my new organs, and to encourage a sensible healthy diet. There is ultimately nothing wrong with a diabetic diet, in many ways it is the optimum omnivore regime, being as well balanced as a symmetrically even steak and cheese pie.

Did I neglect to inform you dear readers of the adoring nature of the humble kiwi pie? 
Often seen as a mere accesssory at every kiwi garage and dairy, the glorious pastry delight can truly fill both your stomach and soul (I think you may have twigged where this is going). 
Indeed I can attest to the reciprocal fondness that spans the divide between pie hunter and the hunted prey, as expressed by Carly Simon in her song The Pie Who Loved Me. 

The Broccoli ones are the best......).

I defy anyone out there over 30 not to join in the titles with your imaginary finger gun, moving slowly and gracefully pointing at invisible henchmen and nubile silhouetted Bond girls.

                

But enough of this indulgent lack of self control (No go away Laura Brannigan, this my blog, stop singing and live and let die).

However after trying a few of the previously forbidden confections, I promise to exercise more dietary restraint.    

What do you mean you don't believe me.......?

After all my word is my Bond.




Alan Partridge runs us through the best Bond opening sequence ever.