We need Dr No to stop Craig's Licence to Bore
WHAT'S the opposite of a swoon? Is it a yawn? A grimace? That's what we had to suppress last week when we heard that Daniel Craig was going to reprise his role as James Bond.
I'm sorry to say this, ladies, but I have met and had tea with Craig, and according to our suavometer, he is just not suave enough to play Bond -- unless the next instalment takes place in a nursing home and 007 is supposed to be a bit geriatric and grumpy.
But then we'll eat our words and lobby hard for Craig to win an Oscar and a knighthood, which surely someone who looks as gnarled as him deserves.
If that doesn't happen, we will mourn like forlorn widows for the return of Pierce Brosnan. We may even sacrifice a goat on the altar of bringing Sean Connery back to the role..
Because both of these men knew the truth: Bond should be about flirty, twinkly jokes made in dressing gowns while holding champagne glasses and outfoxing deadly but sexy Russian spies.
Craig is far too surly for any of that malarkey. He always looks like he's worrying about the budget deficit or the future of the euro or something. He wears cardigans and has that sunken-jaw mien of someone who keeps their teeth in a jar by the bed.
Memo to the evil overlords who control the 007 franchise: we're in the midst of a very grim recession and it has been winter for about four years now. We need fantasy, escapism and some light-hearted sexiness, not some grim art-house nonsense which has nothing to do with the spirit of Bond.
And we're sure Brosnan could be paid in cigars.
Sunday Indo Living