I trust that you are sitting comfortably, Mister Bond.
I am, of course, joking. There is no way you could be comfortable with those arm-shackles, and the laser creeping slowly towards your delicate, vulnerable, oh-so-detachable legs. If you were comfortable, that'd be strange, Mister Bond, and quite frankly inappropriate, given the context. Just nod if you are, and I will see that the situation is rectified. Again, I joke - with the leather head-straps, how could you possibly nod?
I must say, I am disappointed in you, Mister Bond.
What’s that? Yes, actually it is a new carpet. Quite observant of you, Mister Bond.
Just between the two of us, Mister Bond, if you’re getting renovations done, don’t tell the carpet man it’s for a lair. He charges more, Mister Bond, since he assumes you’re putting it down as a business expense. But I have my ways of negotiating price. When he handed me the bill, I had him shot.
In retrospect, it was a bit of an error, as it got blood all over the nice new carpet.
I had him shot again for doing that.
What’s that, Miss Vitshenko? Oh, sorry, Bond, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my associate. Miss Vitshenko knows her way around the body, and isn’t afraid to get… intimate. What’s that, Miss Vitshenko? No, I don’t think I am getting distracted. Mister Bond started it. Didn’t you, Mister Bond? I assure you, Miss Vitshenko, that he would be nodding, if it weren’t for the head-straps.
Soon, Mister Bond, in just a few, agonising minutes, the lasers will sever your legs. And I will be free to continue with my plan, undisturbed, unhindered by - Yes, they are nice curtains, aren’t they? Miss Vitshenko said that they clashed with the runner, but I told her it’s all about the complementary triads. Out with the pastels, in with the neons, eh, Mister Bond.
I’m not getting distracted, Miss Vitshenko! I’m gloating. I can gloat about whatever I like. And I like gloating about the curtains. No, I’ve told you, they don’t clash, they contrast. Besides, even you’re talking about the curtains now. It takes two to tango. What's that, Miss Vitshenko? Well, that may be the case, but I'm not sure that most people think of tangoing as a solo sport. What? No, it's not that I don't believe you, it's just - No, Nadya, I'm not calling you a liar. Okay, I believe you. Your brother was a champion solo-tangoist. Tangoer. Tangopher. Whatever it's called.
And you can stop smiling, Mister Bond.
It takes two to... put up a tent.
Besides, in just five minutes’ time, Mister Bond, you won’t have a leg to –
Nadia, stop screaming! Miss Vitshenko, you have not gone blind, the fuse has gone. Did you plug the laser into the same socket as the hairdryer? What have I said about that? Well, I know you shouldn’t use more than one extension. I did say this. Yes, I definitely did. That time we had Captain Scarlett to stay. Well, I know I said I wanted him on the lino. There’ll be blood. I’m not paying to get the carpet re-done again.
Miss Vitshenko, could you please go and reset the fusebox? It’s in the cupboard next to the ultrasonic deathray. No, not that one. Not that one. Yes, the one where we keep the Dettol.
I’m very sorry for the delay, Mister Bond.
