I wonder whether the book will include a reference to "the oil spill caused by the English company British Petroleum"? 
James Bond headed into the London Underground Station at Sloane Square, not far from the Chelsea apartment he shared. He was pleased to use public transport these days, rather than accept the offer of the Company Car from his employees.
Suddenly, he thought about the oil spill caused by the English company British Petroelum and suddely felt a sense of guilt at being part English.
He thought of Tony Hayward, the company's Chief Executive Office. He wasn't like CEO's is the United States - he'd seemed too full of self-interest - and didn't understand the feelings of the American people, considered James Bond.
President Barrack Obama certainly did. Bond admired President Obama greatly. (Suddenly though he had a 50s flashback - was there something wrong; why did he suddenly feel like calling the US President a "microphone head"?).
And he cast his mind back less than twelve months. And the chants of those soccer fans on that Saturday night.
"We don't give a 
about the wildlife in the Gulf". The chants rang through his head as he remembered the eighth goal slipped past the American goaltender, and the vulgar gesture of the scorer toward his shirt badge, the American fans and then the English.
Yes, at times James Bond felt ashamed to be English. Even half English. Indeed, there was so much about him that he even wondered if he were English in anyway at all.
Bond loved his country, although he wasn't blind to its faults. For instance, he was ashamed of England's continued occupation of Ireland and the fact that - unlike welcoming countries like the United States - England did not accept refugees and asylum seekers. He often wished that London wasn't just full of white faces. On a more personal level, he also detested the way all of London would grind to a halt for a couple of hours every day so that everybody could enjoy the custom of afternoon tea. Bond hated tea. He liked to call a cup of tea a "cup of mud".
(Ha! That's a good one for the fanboys, Jeff! - Ed.)Still, at least this meant that there was little traffic on the streets when he drove to Heathrow Airport to meet Felix Leiter. Without the usual gridlock, Bond was able to make the journey from central London to Heathrow in about ten minutes.
Felix Leiter turned out to be a tall, muscular Texan in his mid-twenties. Bond thought privately that this was pretty old to still be a relatively junior CIA agent - at Leiter's advanced age, surely he ought to be a section chief already, at least. Still, Bond assumed that the CIA was a more demanding employer than MI6 and it was more difficult to get promoted quickly. After all, MI6's only responsibility was to keep England safe, whereas the CIA had the duty of safeguarding the freedom of the entire world!
Unlike most English people, Leiter looked well-fed and healthy. "By Jove!" Bond said as he greeted the American. "What on earth do they put in the water on your side of the pond?"
"Can it, limey faggot," Leiter growled. "Just put my bags in the trunk and take me to M."
(Jeff, how about adding "Fetch my shoes"? That'd be another good in-joke for the Bond fans - don't ask. - Ed.)Minutes later, Bond and Leiter stood before M's desk. M filled his pipe and glowered at them with his damnably clear blue-gray-gunmetal eyes.
"Sir," Bond began, "Mr Leiter here has been sent by the CIA to investigate the British Petroleum oil spillage. Washington thinks it may have been a deliberate act of terrorism."
M grunted. England had a big problem with Christian terrorists who liked to blow things up, but this was the first he'd heard of terrorist involvement in the oil spill. "I wonder whether Washington has its facts straight," he remarked.
"Hey, listen, jerk," Leiter said. "We saved your
in World War II, so you better get with the program, and by the way if so much as a wisp of that tobacco smoke comes near my face I'm gonna sue you into the middle of next week, and it don't look to me like you can afford a two hundred million dollar settlement, old man, so listen up: I'm commandeering this building and everything in it, as well as all your people worldwide, and then Bond and I are gonna go kick some
, capiche?"
M was confused. He didn't know what Leiter meant when he threatened to sue him. English people didn't sue each other. If they had a problem, they tended to either discuss it over a cup of tea or fight a duel. Still, he was in no doubt that Leiter was a man to be reckoned with, and he knew who was boss.
"I do most humbly apologize," M said to Leiter. "Bond, fetch this gentleman a----" He paused and regarded Leiter with a puzzled frown. "What is it that you Americans drink? Milk shakes?"
Leiter snorted at the old man's ignorance of American culture. He turned to Bond, who was gazing at him adoringly. "Come on, Bond," Leiter said. "You and I have got a world to save."
