Bond. Sensitive Bond.
Before my friend and I went to see Spectre, we heard rumours that this installment of the Bond franchise was going to be his most sensitive yet. And as we nestled into our seats and prematurely began eating our popcorn from a bag that holds way too much popcorn for two people, we began to speculate what kind of sensitivity would be shown. And, as a result, we came up with the following genius movie pitch.
“I wonder if he’ll be Baking Bond.”
“With a frilly apron?”
“Of course with a frilly apron. How else does one bake?”
“Maybe a scene opens and it’s him standing a frilly apron, in his Nancy Meyers kitchen, and there’s a line-up of failed soufflés.”
“With bullet holes in the pans.”
“Because they kept sinking.”
“And then his wife comes home from work just as he’s pulling a perfect soufflé out of the oven.”
“And his kids come screaming through the kitchen, causing the soufflé to deflate.”
“And he yells, ‘GAWDDAMMIT!’ and pulls the gun out of his shoulder holster and points it at the soufflé.”
“And his wife calmly walks up to him, takes the gun, unloads it and gives it back.”
“I hope one day he’ll make the perfect soufflé.”
“No guns required.”