RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CIV, Issue 30710, 27 March 1965, Page 42

RANDOM REMINDER

WAYLEGGO

Isn’t it disgusting the things some people will do for money? We would have thought Special Agent 007 was the epitome of all those qualities that people so admire—like brutality, lust, greed and sadism—but we find that he, too, has his price. For news has just been released that James (“my word is my”) Bond is to follow such characters as Ned Kelly and Miss World as a promoter of wool. The news may be a bit of a blow to the synthetic boys, but we fail to see how it can do the secret service, wool, or the Bond stories, much good. Just imagine: Bradford agent 56/58 had been worsted. Terry Lean, chief of the dreaded Wool Besmirch Organisation, had baled him up, spun him like a top, fleeced, scoured and branded him double knit quick and double dumped his car-

case in Romney Marsh. Which is why M, stroking < his superfine greasy lox, had called in Bond. “Are ewe shore?” Bond asked his chief. “Muster gone there after that gun Shearer lost and been rounded up by those dogs. What a neck. Wonder wether he was on to something super?” M nodded. “Besmirch has it in for I. W. 5.,” he said. “We herd it was something to do with killing off Egypt’s flocks and dressing all those Arabs in synthetic burnous. A big blow for wool. Maybe they will turn a rayon and roast them." “Baa.” Bond replied sheepishly! “What a yam I'll put my orlon betting they couldn’t do that.” But Bond has underestimated the sorter gang he was up against. Led by the notorious halfbred, Barebelly Joe, the Besmirch toughs were indeed planning to take Egypt’s wool

away, to clip the clip and crimp Nasser's style with a huge board they planned to turn off the Nile and dry up the pastures. Bond was shaken to his fibre by this plot of the warped minds of Besmirch. He dressed himself in wool against the heat of the day and the cool of the night tucked his super sharp shears into one reinforced sock and set off for the source of the Nile. The sight of the gleaming shears soon had the gang penned up and Bond was able, after a long day on the board, to cut it out with wide blows. The Nile flowed again. He was nearly cast when M grabbed his jersey and docked his cheque. “You fool,” he barked. “You've ruined everything.” “But” bleated Bond, “I’ve saved all those sheep. I’ve turned the Nylon.” “And,” ground out M. “given them a trade name that's got everything."