Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Flashback: Migo, Al Migo

This month we jump back into the time machine and reminisce over old posts with a glass of brandy in front of a warm fire. This time around it was a time where I attempted to be this bloke: 

Yeah so I'm not going to quit radio anytime soon and become a professional gambler, secret agent, super ladies man (wait...) or buy myself a Walther PPK anytime soon - after a brief taste of the good life, it's fair to say I'm much more comfortable being me.
I proved this on the weekend by attempting to play James Bond. No not any of the 007 video games, I actually decided to find out how much fun the Bond lifestyle.
 (I lie - I went to a company function that was at Townsville Casino. Apart from walking through Crown Casino in Melbourne on occasion, it was the first time I really had anything to do with a casino. So what a great excuse to pretend to be a secret agent while drinking copious amounts of everything in reach? When else am I going to get such an awesome opportunity?)
Firstly was finding me a suitable vehicle to transport my stash of secreted gadgets (Ipod and mobile phone), my super sharp (crushed in a carry on bag) suit as well as myself all the way to the airport. In true James Bond style, it'd have to be a BMW, an Aston Martin or even a rare Lotus.
What I ended up in was a Ferrari Lamborghini Toyota Aurion.
Not a single missile on board
Yeah...no. As comfortable as it was, I couldn't see myself dodging bad guys (or anything at all really) in it and there wasn't a hidden machine gun or ejector seat anywhere. Whoever designed this had never met Q before.
Result: Fail.
Private planes with airline hostesses handing out not only champagne and caviar but themselves on occasion, while terrorists hide in secret compartments in the toilet? No.
A big military carrier plane then, with a supercar and parachutes loaded in the back with enough room to not only play footy in, but have a pretty convincing firefight in case one was needed? No.
I flew in economy, on a fully packed Virgin Blue flight and proceed to fall asleep during the flight out of sheer boredom. I was awakened by the hostesses, not being in the least bit sexy, but when they rammed the food cart into my foot time and time again. The closest thing to complimentary champagne when seated was the bourbon and Pepsi...which you have to shell out a staggering $10 for. Caviar wasn't on the menu so I opted instead for the Luke Mangan beef sand which (I didn't see him on the plane?). Longest trip ever.
Result: Fail again.
Bond always looks impeccable in a 3 piece, walks in with a wad of hundreds, orders a martini, wins a few hands and proceeds to bugger off with the hottest girl in the room.
Yours truly however walks in with rough jeans and an odd color t-shirt (it went through the wash with a brighter colored t-shirt and emulated it slightly), ordered a beer, sat down at the $10 blackjack table and proceeded to blow anything I'd earned on the gaming machines (not much) and the horses (even less) on two hands. My entire blackjack playing experience has amounted to a total of two hands period and zero to show for it. I was also extremely thankful that I'm engaged to a gorgeous woman already as if I was single and truly trying the James Bond experience, I'd have to settle for someone a bit older than me.
Like at least 50 years older. Pickings were very close to death.
Abort mission!
Result: Third time lucky at failing.
According to www.Jamesbondlifestyle.com:
For a visit to the Casino Bond wears a single-breasted dinner jacket, heavy silk shirt, thin double-ended black satin tie.
Note that it does not say: To be truly cool, James Bond only ever wears one suit for everything, a dark pinstriped suit that sits a little too big on him and one that really visits the dry cleaners.
Not that it'd really help ultimately as the shirt was far from silk (god knows what's actually in it), the jacket looks more at home at a mafia funeral and while the tie is black, it wasn't a bow. Or expensive. Or pressed at all (it spent way too much time crushed at the bottom of the wardrobe before being thrown on for this big dinner. I don't think Mr Bond waits 5 years between suits either.
Thank god I'm buying a decent one for my own wedding.
Result: Fourth fail's a charm.
James Bond I will never be. A secret agent I'll never be. A professional punter I could never afford to be.
But when did you see James Bond knock back a couple of cold ones on a Friday night, put the boots into an RX7 or talk shit on the radio for a living? Can he swing a spanner, hammer or rock a 6 string Yama(ha)? Have you ever seen any of the James Bonds cook a semi decent meal??
Still waiting Bond...

I'll stick to being me for the time being, with all this practice I'm getting pretty good at it!


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