Ever since I recovered from a comma, double comma, people started suggesting new phrases to me all the time, thinking I'm some sort of a dialect-oracle and meme-prophet capable of coining anything into ฿itcoins. The question is - could I really make money by just tweeting axioms and aphorisms? That's ridic. In any case I went ahead and wrote this series of state-of-the-art youthemisms to all the youngsters out there who need a bit of a turd polish.
After the film's BAFTA and SAG awards, there should be no need to convince you that this is a film worth checking out, Bond fan or not.
In our age where life mimics art, you can be sure that each new gadget Hollywood dreams up will not remain a dream for very long. As technology catches up with imagination, the coolest devices move very quickly from the big screen into our own hands.
With JJ Abrams responsible for both Star Trek and Star Wars there's a lot of pressure on his shoulders, not least the pressure of keeping fans of both franchises on track and the fans happy and on side.
This week, snow lies across the country, suppressing mirth and stilling the air. The land is quieted, as is our national spirit, for it occurs to me that something is amiss in these isles. What became of English rumbustiousness, what Jacobson has called an 'obdurate independence'?
Live And Let Die is hands-down my favourite Bond movie. I love those menacing scenes shot in New York when the city was at its seediest; I love the conveniently-aligned alligators and the mental boat chase in Louisiana.
What the hell's going on? Is Bond working for Silva? Because if he is, he couldn't have done a worse job of protecting poor M. Who'd've thunk that a private army equipped with state-of-the-art helicopters and weaponry could get the better of one MI6 agent and two pensioners?
If you'd only read the reviews the gushing reviews of Skyfall, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the character of Bond is no longer a sex-crazed misogynist without a conscience.
The fact that Judi Dench's M is certainly a match for the intelligence, professionalism and cunning of Daniel Craig's Bond should mean the producers have greater license to provide for Bond girls like Miss Goodnight, from The Man with the Golden Gun.
Ultimately, I think it might just not be permissible to make an old-school Bond movie in today's social climate. A movie where women are objects of desire, men are either baddies or assistants, and emotions are drowned out by gunfire and martinis. It's sad, because in my eyes Bond is harmless male fantasy, nothing sinister or threatening. I hope the tempering of the franchise's escapist edge is just down to the whim of a certain group of sensitive filmmakers.
Popular cinema will not let Bond die. Given his prowess for survival 007 may live even beyond the end of times!
For once I have arrived at a motoring event during the middle of the morning, quite a leisurely time indeed and also for once I am quite undressed, I ...
With Bond the critical faculties of UK reviewers and the film going public generally, are temporarily suspended. Because Bond is 'our thing', one of the last bastions of the British film industry (at least for appearances sake) holding out in a normally money starved wasteland.
Leaving the cinema, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. A sense of achievement. Not because our blue-eyed Bond had foiled the evil schemes of a peroxide partisan but because the film captured a true sense of contemporary British identity.
I contemplated this dilemma on a crowded flight, as I sat sandwiched between two executives reading business journals of such unimaginable dryness that I longed to have the latest edition of "Closer" to balance them up. We were squished together on an evening flight so full of suits that it seemed to be a scene from "50 Shades of Grey", the bible to bespoke tailoring, and a title with slightly less sado-masochism than its racier namesake.
Dear Sam Mendes, then, can I just say: thank you. Thank you for a Bond movie - finally! - that I'm not embarrassed to have enjoyed.