– Well, I don’t mind, really, but may I fix my face before I die? It’s in such a mess.
This month, we’re joined by Steven B from New to Who to investigate the theft by some puppets of the blueprints for a new atomic weapon. Inevitably, Lady Penelope gets tied to a bomb or something, and we have mere moments to locate her before she is completely exploded. The sets are lavish, the hardware is impressive and the eyebrow lifts are the most expensive and time-consuming eyebrow lifts until Rodge takes over as Bond. Thunderbirds are go, in The Man from MI.5.
Can I just have one nice evening before the world explodes?
After a disastrous attempt to record a commentary on No Time to Die results in several cinemagoers calling the police, we decide to regroup, get some drinks in, and hold a roundtable discussion of Daniel Craig’s last film in the role. So: when SPECTRE holds a Christmas drinks thing despite Covid restrictions and everyone ends up feeling quite unwell, James Bond, Felix Leiter and 007 (it’s complicated) team up (sort of) to find the renegate scientist responsible. A whole bunch of things happen, and a generation of Bond fans are scarred for life as a result.
Be warned. There will be spoilers.
Here is a link to the #IAmNotYourVillain campaign by Changing Faces UK, which calls on filmmakers to stop using scars and disfigurement as a signifier of villainy.
This month, advertising account executive Gary Fenn (Roger Moore) and fiery underwear model Marla Kougash (Claudie Lange) find themselves on the run as they try to foil a violent fascist takeover of Great Britain. Meanwhile Richard (Martha Hyer), James (Dudley Sutton), Brendan (Mark Ruffalo) and Nathan (an extremely rosaceous Sir Bernard Lee) take copious liquid advantage of the recent lifting of Sydney’s lockdown by slurring their way through the long-forgotten quota quickie Crossplot.
– You’re not the first person to pass through my hands, Stirling.
– I never thought I was.
– They all broke eventually.
– I’ll try and spoil your record.
This month, James finds himself drugged, sweaty and trapped in a prison cell with a wastepaper basket and no visible means of escape, while Richard insistently questions him about the identity of the mysterious Renfield or something. Meanwhile, Brendan and Nathan flap about uselessly outside. It sounds like a job for The Champions.
– Oh, but that’s three octaves above high C! Nobody’s ever done it before! My voice would be gone! I’d rather die!
Holy Peripheral Relevance, Batman! This month, the Dynamic — er — Four have pursued patron-saint-of-the-podcast Joan Collins to Gotham City, where she makes a surprising guest appearance in an episode of Batman as the mesmeric Lorelei Circe, whose voice has an uncanny power over heterosexual men. (Fortunately we’re all very neatly tucked and wearing the Bat-Earplugs for this one.)
– No. You look rather ch— Don’t move, stay where you are, put your hands over your head and lean against the wall.
– Nor am I a contortionist.
This month, it’s a queasy mixture of the Swinging Sixties and the Punching-People-in-the-Face Seventies, as Steed, Purdey and Gambit try to discover who is encouraging so many sweaty government security personnel to discotheque themselves to death, and why. It’s The New Avengers in Angels of Death.
Then he’s blessed. I’m forever plucking stray hairs from my comb and brush. Positively demoralizing, but an inescapable part of the human condition. Hmm? Does any of this say anything to you Miss Holt? It does to me. It fairly shouts Remington Steele is an elaborate ruse. He does not exist. You invented him.
This week, we answer the eternal question, “Why the hell are we watching this?” with a resounding “Dunno”, as we plumb the depths of Reagan-Era film-noir-lite with the first episode of the TV show that gave the world Pierce Brosnan — Remington Steele.
– Oh well, sir, in that case, some of the credit must go to Drake here. I mean the men in the field.
— Rubbish, the glamour boys always get all the credit. I hope you don’t mind my saying this, Drake.
– On the contrary Mr. Ambassador, it is the man behind the desk who does all the planning, all the real thinking. We just carry out orders.
This month, we’re off to Geneva to rescue the handsome Captain Munro from Spearhead from Space, who has been abducted and held captive in the Romanian Embassy by some people who are apparently doing the accent. It’s a jolly old heist, involving Patrick McGoohan, the lovely Jane Merrow, Mr Range from Frontios and, in the true spirit of the Kate O’Marathon, Kate O’Mara herself. For a few minutes.
– Her least of all. She used to spy for the Egyptians.
This month, we resume last year’s abortive Kate O’Marathon with an episode of The Persuaders! from 1972, in which Tony Curtis and Roger Moore join forces to fail to recover a retired spy’s sensational memoirs, while Marla and Melania conceal a dark secret about their husband’s astonishing hairpiece.
Oh, I discovered then, nothing beats a good lashing. (Mind your head.) Take India. You can have a good ten inches overnight there. You know, one should never fear being wet.
This month, we commemorate the death of Sean Connery by revisiting the first nail in the coffin of his movie career, the 1998 film The Avengers, starring Ralph Fiennes and Uma Thurman as crude robot replicas of John Steed and Mrs Peel, who go up against the wet sporran of Connery’s single most villainous role, Sir August de Wynter — a man who selflessly tries to provide the population of Great Britain with something interesting to make small talk about.