My husband and I watched Skyfall on DVD (again) last night and started to talk about how it might be different if I was a spy like Bond…
(Walking into living room pointing TV remote at husband’s head and searching through room): ‘It’s gone.’ ‘What?’ ‘My mobile. What have you done with it?’ ‘You were spending too long on Twitter.’ ‘Give it back right now or I’ll take the batteries out of the remote.’
Husband: ‘Whoa, watch the side mirrors!’ ‘I’m sorry but his back end was sticking out a mile and before you say it, I WASN’T driving too fast.’ (Crassshhh!) ‘I can’t BELIEVE you just rolled the car. That’s going to cost a fortune.’ ‘Right, well if you’re going to criticise my driving, next time YOU can bloody drive away from the spies and I’LL shoot.’
(Jumping onto roof of the train) ‘Take the bloody shot.’ (Strained whisper) ‘I’m winded.’ ‘Take the bloody shot.’ ‘Hold on, I need to put my contact lenses in. They’re in my bag somewhere. Tampax, lip balm, tissues, purse…oh, here they are. Right, done.’ ‘Take the bloody shot.’ ‘There’s no need to swear and a ‘please’ won’t cost you anything.’ ‘Take the bloody shot.’ ‘Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Softly, softly, catchy monkey?’. I’ll take the shot when I’m good and ready and not a moment before…Oops.’
‘Three months ago you lost the drive containing the identity of every agent embedded in terrorist organisations across the globe.’ ‘Excuse ME, I didn’t LOSE it, I just put it in a safe place.’
‘Distressed Housewife, reporting for duty.’ ‘Where the hell have you been?’ ‘Oh the usual, washing, cooking, cleaning, looking after the kids. Why, what’ve you been up to?’ (Taking a slug from a bottle of white wine).
‘I only have one question. Why not stay dead? There’s no shame in just saying you’ve lost a step.’ ‘Well at least I can come back to life and pick up my steps. You, however, will always have bad manners and a receding hairline.’
‘Welcome to the new MI6. I’m your Quartermaster.’ ‘Hi, nice to meet you. You know, you’re the first friendly spy I’ve come across.’ ‘This is a Walther PPK/S 9mm short, it’s been coded to your palm print so only you can fire it. Less of a random killing machine, more of a personal statement.’ ‘Ooh, shiny. It’ll go with my new shoes. Which way round do I hold it again, Q?’ (Putting his head in his hands): ‘Distressed Housewife.’
‘How much do you know about fear?’ ‘I have three children and one of them is a toddler. All there is.’ ‘Not like this…Not like him.’ ‘I’ll swap you.’
‘Just look at you, chasing spies. England, MI6.’ ‘She sent you up to me, knowing you were not ready, knowing you would likely die. Mommy was very bad.’ ‘Actually, I’m just looking for the Ladies but I think I took a wrong turn. I’ve absolutely NO sense of direction!’
‘Two survivors. This is what she made us.’ ‘Everybody needs a hobby.’ ‘So what’s yours?’ ‘Blogging.’
Husband trying to wrestle phone off me as I try to tweet/doing ‘sniff test’ on clothes left on floor/in shower with hubby: ‘Hold on, the water’s getting in my eyes and I don’t want to get my hair wet!’/shaking arm: ‘Ooh, I’ve got pins and needles!’/shouting at kids: ‘DON’T stand on his head!’/shaving hubby: ‘Hold on, just let me squeeze that spot.’/driving on rooftops on motorback: ‘Oh, I’ve stalled!’ ‘Oh, crap, I’ve still got my steering lock on!’/jumping into train, everyone starts laughing ‘cos my skirt’s tucked in my knickers.
It’s actually not that different after all, is it? 🙂
(Featured as part of Actually Mummy’s ‘Wot So Funee?’ linky)