Bank of England (Fleet Street)

Miss Moneypenny (Thunderball)

I'm not trying to be clever. I just like drinking in the Bank of England. Anyway, if I had my way I'd be called Bond, not Moneypenny by now.

Thinking about it, I suppose banks are full of bonds too, so it'd still be a jolly twee combination of surnmane cum pub-of-choice. Goodness me, I really am a scatty cow.

Thing is, it's just sooo lovely in here, majestic ceilings and space in droves, so I can lose myself in its history, atmosphere, and my dreams of James.

Ah that super-smooth double-O; how many times have I watched him toss that silly old hat through the air and onto the stand?

He's getting a bit long in the tooth now, but still makes the shot seven times out of 10. How I'd like him to make the shot with me. The Moneypenny shot you might say.

Gosh, I don't know what comes over me when I think of James (not what I'd like to, that's for sure). But I can't help it when I think about the super-charmer. Octogenarian or not, he still makes me want to be the dirtiest girl in the world. I'd do anything for a quick how's-yer-father in M's executive privy.

He's never been interested in me though. Flirted a lot, in the early days. But never went as far as making me his pussy galore. (There I've done it again. Filthy, filthy girl, what would the nuns at finishing school have said)

Well, the cold war is long gone, like my looks I'm afraid. We're all older and wiser which is a mixed blessing. The bar staff in here are eastern European too, types that James would be chucking off trains or pursuing into space 20 years ago! But disappointingly, it turns out they're jolly nice people. Always smiling, serving me a Carling-top with good manners and good grace.

Funny how the world changes; I just wish James would smash down my Berlin-wall and give me a taste of his Perestroika. I'm ripe for invasion.

Miss Moneypenny's rating for the Bank of England – 9  / 10

Sputnikski

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