Licence to Thrill

I'll stand up and admit it: I have A Thing for James Bond. Quite where this leaves my Feminist sensibilities, I'm not entirely sure (of course, if James Bond knocked on my front door, and opened with, Melwuv, you're the only woman who could ever be my emotional, spiritual and intellectual equal - do you fancy some dirty dirty raunch sex?, they'd probably be on the floor, with my knickers, but I digress).

But I'm still trying to figure it out. I'm entirely opposed to any kind of violence being threatened or indeed acted upon any woman, by any stronger man. I really don't think that any work a woman does is somehow worth less in monetary terms. I really think that there's room for a MASSIVE improvement in the way government addresses maternity leave.

And as I thought about this, my opinions started to shift. I actually don't agree with domestic violence full stop. I don't care if he hits her, or she hits him, there has to be a better way to deal with personal inadequacies, frustration and pissed-offness. Belting the living daylights out of someone you profess to feel such positive feelings for that you live under the same roof with them is JUST NOT ON.

Looking at pay inadequacies, I sure as hell don't think that, by being a middle class white male who somehow ended up in a managerial, executive position, you're worth intrinsically more - all those CEOs who enjoy bajillion dollar payouts for not actually summoning Satan on the Boardroom Table, I'm looking at you, pals.

And while maternity leave in Australia is woeful, I'm pretty sure there's room to open it up a little, and listen to what the dads have to say. Call me crazy, but there may just be some fathers out there who'd relish the opportunity to hang out with their little ones, and conduct conversations that make them sound like they've left their brains out in the rain, whilst feeding small ppl a diet that is comprised entirely of coloured... mush.

BUT HOW DOES THIS RELATE TO JAMES BOND? I'm glad you reminded me that that's where we're headed - I was getting a little het up back there. But, it a subtle way, that IS my argument. For all the Feminist Establishment lamenting the perpetuation of the female as victim/sexual plaything/nurturer (while never actually getting be all awesome and kick arse... Unless she's evil, in which case she kick everything until dispatched of by James, usually with some dry witticism), Monsieur Bond is hardly 3 dimensional. Let's face it: he's a ripped pussy magnet who occasionally does some spying. That's. About. It. He has discernible skills, for sure - the ability to drive a manual car, the knowledge of several lethal martial arts, and an almost Zen-like affinity with the cocktail shaker and the wondrous concoctions one can inveigle fm it - but when it comes down to it, would you actually want to try and spend a lifetime with this fella? The dirty dirty raunch sex would be plentiful, dirty and raunchy, but what about when you wanted to lie on the couch in trackpants, and argue the merits of crunchy versus smooth peanut butter? Or just stay in and watch 'The Bill' on a Saturday nite? Or indeed, combine the above two activities?

So to those out there that argue that James is a Cold War relic of outdated misogynistic masculinity, I say, too bloody rite! Congratulations! You've cracked it! Such insight! (These comments may or may not be tinged with sarcasm, depending how generous I feel at the time).

It's a constant refrain that women will never live up to the ideals created for them by media and popular cultural consensus. Again, I agree wholeheartedly. But lads, you'll never be James Bond either (sorry). So can we just watch the films (and read the books, for us purists out there), and enjoy a slightly different reality where trackpants, 'The Bill' and nites in are instead replaced by tailored everything, million dollar cards games and massive gunfights in exotic locations, without needing to think too hard about them?

It's time to get back to Bond basics: the dirty dirty raunch sex, and how to get it. End of.



Stay tuned for Melwuv's insightful analysis as to why Casino Royale was 11 kinds of awesome, and may indeed be her favourite Bond film ever produced. NB: she will not discuss Quantum of Solace. At least, not until the spiritual whimpering in her soul quietens the f*ck down.