"The name's Bond," you reply. "James Bond."
"Ah, Mr Bond," replies the receptionist, knowingly. "I am Miss Moneyshotty. He's waiting for you inside his office."
"I'd like to slip inside your orifice," you flirt, sexual harrassmentedly, before stepping into the office of your boss, Mmm.
You hear Moneyshotty tutting and calling the HR department, as you close the door behind you.
"I've come about a mission," you reply. "Do you have mission-ary position for me, Mmm?"
"Really, 007?" sighs Mmm. "This is hardly the time. This mission is of the upmost importance, and you have to focus. I need you to stop the evil billionaire Yuri Sovane from destroying the world by making his nuclear bomb go off."
"Nuclear bomb, eh?" you muse. "Sometimes I think that I'll destroy the world when I 'go off' - there's so much of 'it'."
Partially ignoring your crude remark, Mmm hands over a dossier: "This contains everything you need to know."
"Mmm," you say, stroking your chin and eyelids, as you consult your briefing notes.
"I'm sorry - were you talking to me?" asks Mmm.
"No, no," you reply. "I was just saying 'Mmm', Mmm."
"Oh. That happens a lot. Well, head to Sovane's casino, and see what you can find out... mmmmm."
"Righto," you reply, munching on an apple.
"Mmmmmmm..." says Mmm.
"Ah, 007," says Q, as you step through the doors. "I'm Q."
"Have you got a wife called A?" you ask, with a raised eyebrow. "If so, I'd love to meet her."
"Please try and focus, 007," groans Q, wearily.
"Please try and focus, 007," he says repeatedly, as you roll along the walls, because it feels nice.
You take the M20 down to the coast, where you board the Eurostar to Calais.
From there you disembark the train, and follow the signs to the A26, which takes you to Reims, where you take the exit onto the A4, briefly back onto the A26 for a few miles, then onto the A5, A6, A42 past Lyon, then the A43 - where you're held up by roadworks for over an hour - then the E70 around Turin, then it's the E717 along the coast from Savona, and before you know it you're in Monaco.
By the time you arrive, you're starving, having eaten all the picnic eggs and Percy Pigs that Q gave you before you left. However, this is no time to think about your stomach: the clock is ticking!
You crouch down behind a bush at the back of the carpark - "I do like a nice bush," you mutter to nobody in particular - and change into your best tuxedo.
You walk into the Casino Regal, and immediately bump into its owner, the evil billionaire Yuri Sovane.
"No," you reply. "I went at a service station on the way here."
"Ha ha ha," chuckles the evil billionaire. "I like you, you're a funny one. Tell me, funny one - what is your name?"
"Er," you stammer, unprepared for his question. "It's Bon... da... da... daddio. James Bondadadaddio. I'm South African."
"Well, Mr Bondadadaddio, I used to be a racist, so we're going to get on like a house on fire. Why don't you join me at my private roulette table?"
"I'd like that very much," you sing.
"A song, Mr Bondadaaddio?" enquires your host, as he leads you into the main bit of the casino.
"Yuri Sovane," you reply, tunefully."I bet you think this song is about you."
Yuri Sovane stares and looks at you, for upwards of seven minutes.
"I'd like a dry Martini, shaken not stirred," you ask. However, she looks at you, blankly.
"But we only have wet Martinis," she frowns, confused.
"Never mind," you reply. "I'll have a Diet Coke."
"Let's bet!" cries Yuri Sovane, impatiently.
"I'll put it all on red!" you exclaim, before adding, cryptically: "And not for the first time."
The casino woman spins the roulette wheel, barking in a thick German accent:"Round and round the wheely spins... when it stops - someone wins!"
"Well done, Mr Bondadadadaddio... you appear to have cleaned out my casino... or should I call you - MR BOND?!"
"No," you say.
"Don't think I don't know who you are! And now I am going to kill you with a single punch to the head! Bash! Bash!"
But before Sovane can make good on his threat, a carnival procession passes through the casino - and at its head is a beautiful lady. The procession separates you from Sovane, and he goes into an insane rage, lashing out at colourful revellers.
In the chaos, the beautiful lady grabs your arm, and leads you into a mop closet.
"Mops," you say, adding creepily: "They'll come in handy for mopping up the mess I'm going to make."
"Ok," you reply. "But first, why don't we make love?"
"Sure," agrees Fanny.
"You take the main entrance, and I'll go in by the rim," you suggest. "And not for the first time."
"Look out, James!" shouts Fanny, as she emerges, dripping, from the secret base's submarine dock.
"Fanny, you're all wet," you remark. "Just how I like you."
Unfortunately, her warning comes a moment too late - before you can defend yourself, or make another sexually intimidating remark, Yuri Sovane has leapt out of a cupboard, and knocked the gun out of your hand with a broom.
"That depends," you reply. "Would you respond to a polite request not to do it?"
"Never!" croaks Sovane, before tying you and Fanny to the nuclear bomb with a combination rope, and setting the countdown ticking.
For reasons best left undiscussed, Sovane doesn't say another word. He then attempts to look cool by moonwalking out of the room - but trips, and falls onto a big spike, dying immediately.
"Watch out for that big prick!" you say.
"Is this really the time for that, James?" asks Fanny.
"There's always time for a big prick, Fanny," you reply. "See if you can reach into my pocket."
"Oh, really, James..." she sighs, with a roll of her eyes. "Sovane was the only one with the combination to this rope, and if we can't get free the bomb is going to go off, etcetera."
"I am trying to do something about it - reach into my back pocket!"
Fanny claps and skips with joy.
"What an spiffing idea," you reply. "What did you have in mind?"
It's your boss, Mmm: "Mmm to Bond, Mmm to Bond - come in Bond. What is the status of your mission? Has the world blown up or not? Come in, Bond."
Another voice crackles over the radio. "I think he is coming in, sir," says Q. "Let's leave him to it. God bless the Queen."