I have finally - and in my experience uniquely - met a shop assistant with a sense of humour. I was at a hardware store looking for a house number. Running my finger from the large black plastic 1 all the way up to 0 and back, I was unable to find the number I was looking for. So I asked. And she told me that they had a special on threes last week, and as a result they are all out. She said fourteen people relocated to take advantage of the sale.
Mostly. Some of the numbers were changed to protect the identity of the individuals concerned.
GP’s receptionist: Mr Bond? Mr James Bond? Dr. No will see you now.
Bond baffles me I must be honest. He’s supposed to be the worlds best and most secretest agent but blurts out his real name to anyone that asks.
He’s got to be clear about who he is. Otherwise he runs the risk of being served a martini that’s all wrong.
Perhaps it’s a ploy: he knows everyone will assume it’s a fake name. Like a superhero who always goes dressed in a Superman suit, pretending to be a nut who thinks he’s Superman, but when there’s trouble, he changes into a normal reporter’s outfit and saves the day.
That just shows how bad ass he is.