Previously, our hero, 008, was bending over the corpse of a woman who had been eager to speak to him, presumably about the strange goings on relating to the world's finest caviar.
Bland turned round, and found himself looking into the barrel of a gun... Or rather two barrels, since there were two identical looking thugs both pointing pistols in his direction.
"She tried to defend herself with that revolver", explained one, "it's a pity, but she had to be killed before she told you, er, something."
"I see", said Bland, "but now you're going to take me to the Evil Genius Bent on World Domination, who no doubt will want to tell me all about it anyway."
The thugs looked are each other. "Actually, you're supposed to fight us first."
Bland shook his head in despair, "And single handedly beat you unconcious, then I'll no doubt meet some tarty blonde in the bar..."
"Pussy Toulette's a brunette, actually", interrupted one of the villains.
"...and spend the night with her, but she'll have been hired by your boss and will drug me, and then you'll come and carry me off to Evil Genius HQ? 007 might go in for that sort of thing, but the taxpayers would have to fork out for me to stay another night in this extortionate hotel. No, I'll just come with you now."
The thugs sighed, and one of them waved his weapon at Bland in the classic "go that way, and no funny business or I'll blow your fucking head off" gesture, and off they went.
Bland was led blindfolded into the nerve centre, where a large emaculately dressed man, obviously the Evil Genius Bent On World Domination, was waiting to greet him.
"Ah, Mr Bland. Sit down". The thugs pushed him into a chair, and tied him to it with thick rope. "Have a drink". Bland was handed a cocktail glass. He sniffed it and then threw it onto the floor.
"Vodka martini, stirred not shaken!", he exclaimed, "not only is that a criminal thing to do to a cocktail, but I only drink mineral water anyway."
"Ah, yes, your accountant's brain must remain unclouded", smiled the Evil Genius Bent On World Domination, "which is good, because I want you to understand just how clever my plan is. Before you die, of course.
"Thousands of tonnes of cheap caviar has been stored in underwater tanks. We have kidnapped all of the caviar fishers, and will substitute ours for the real thing."
"You're planning to poison all of the world leaders, aren't you?"
The EGBOWD looked insulted. "I wouldn't do anything that crude. Anyway, if I did, there would be plenty more leaders where they came from. No, my caviar when fed to people who have been brought up eating the good quality stuff will give them dreadful indigestion and constipation. Oh, did I mention, I own Smiff Kline Laxo?"
"The pharmecutical company specialising in laxitives and indigestion remedies!", said Bland, "They have a built up a 100% market share worth $5bn in the last..."
"Quite", interrupted the EGBOWD, "and my agents are right now going to all the shops and clearing the shelves of these products. The leaders in their agony and discomfort will start arguing, declare war on one another, and I will rescue the world by supplying my laxitives, in return for being declared World President."
"Shit!", said Bland, "and it's even tax deductable. Since your investment in laxitives is in pursuit of a new job, you can claim back the VAT. Let me see, 17.5% of 5 billion..."
"It's not too late to join me, Bland. I could use a fantastic financial brain like yours", said the EGBOWD as he lit a massive cigar.
At that moment his leggy assistant entered the room. "They've now bought 99.4% of the medicine", she reported.
"Well, tell them to hurry up!", said the EGBOWD angrily, looking at his watch, "it's not a difficult mission, they've only got to nip down to a few chemist's."
The leggy assistant turned to leave, but her stiletto slid in Bland's spilt drink and she went flying into the EGBOWD. In turn, he fell over, and the match that he was using to light his cigar flew through the air and landed on the floor next to Bland. The puddle of vodka ignited and the rope holding Bland caught fire.
Bland looked sadly at the burn marks on his jacket, and was wondering exactly how much he could claim on his expenses when he suddenly realised that he ought to be doing something. He sprung to his feet, and also slipped on the wet floor.
He pulled himself up, holding onto a lever of some kind to steady himself. Of course, the lever moved, and red lights and sirens came on. "Self Destruct in 5 minutes!"
Bland looked around, trying to remember which entrance he'd come through. But he'd been blindfolded. There were no signposted emergency exits, which he was sure must be against the local Health and Safety regulations. However everyone else was running in one direction, so he decided to follow them. The EGBOWD and his leggy assistant were both unconcious.
At the UN World Leader's Annual Dinner the delegates were sipping their choice wines and commenting on how fine the caviar was this year, whilst discussing what they could do about the dreadful economic situation. Standing in one corner, N and Bland looked on approvingly.
"A job well done", said N. "One day, no doubt someone will make a film about it. Though they'll have to spice it up a little - no-one will believe that you saved the world single handedly without firing a single shot, or getting intimate with some gorgeous women. I wouldn't have thought it was possible myself."
Bland smiled, and turned to leave. "I'm sorry to rush off, N, but I've got meet a Miss Pussy Toulette. I'm sure she's not declaring all of her earnings, you see, so I need to give her books a thorough going over."
N shook his head in despair. Her books! Luckily 007 was making a good recovery and things would soon be back to normal...
NOTE: I'll be away this week, so don't be surprised if I don't post any comments over the next few days...