Why I hate James Bond

(Just a bit of fun)

Why I hate James Bond

My report's with HR, with M, and with Q,
about that philanderer (you know who).
He's a bluffer (makes me nervous),
on Her Majesty's Service
(and from what I can see,
he serves no useful purpose).

He gets everything he wants,
and never has to sign for it,
yet if I poo in Thames House
It's signatures in triplicate.

It's all so unfair, he gets all the best gadgets
with stun gas and lasers and whizzy big widgets:
all I get's a phone with some stupid apps,
his new Aston Martin has special mud caps
that turn outwards revealing a huge scatter gun
(I just sit in an office, on a chair, on my bum).

He's this obsession with Blofeld who, so he claims,
has vile, evil plans and nefarious aims.
But, from the pictures I've seen,
he's cat lover and really awfully quite tame.

He's been seeing a woman of exceptional looks
with whom he's supposedly beating up crooks
and he claims to fight sharks and men with steel jaws,
(I'll wager in bed that he farts and he snores)

But I know the truth, yes, I've worked it out:
She's not what she seems (and he's just a lout).
She's really an agent from a far eastern land.
(Ha! Even his nookie is pay-on-demand)

I've been watching you see for several long weeks
Every move, every contact, awake and asleep
He thinks he's so clever, with his wit and his charm
My report will soon crack the façade of his calm

What? I'm undone, but how can this be?
They've not come for him, they're arresting me.
It's not fair, I tell you, I've committed no crime
(well, apart from the money I took that one time).

and that's locked in safe in deep darkest Devon,
with cameras, steel walls, and security men,
who won't let you in unless the right code is given.
Of course: the PIN that I used... it was double-oh seven!