007 Retold: The secret diary of Dr. No
Ivan Radford | On 25, May 2015
With 23 weeks to go until Spectre arrives in cinemas, we count down to Bond 24 by looking back at a different James Bond film every week from the perspective of another character.
Presenting 007: Retold.
This week, we unearth a document dating all the way back to 1962…
Monday 25th May. 4pm.
Slipped down a ladder in the laboratory today. (Mental note: Must design some less slippery gloves. Probably not that important.)
Tuesday 26th May. 12:23pm.
Finally got word that Strangways has been killed. May put my party popper glove on to celebrate.
Wednesday 27th May. 16:42pm.
Had word that someone from the British Secret Service is investigating the death of Strangways. “James Bond”. Phoned Professor Dent and asked him to kill the guy. Anything to stop Dent coming to visit. Ugh. He is so boring. All he does is talk about rocks.
Friday 29th May. 09.36am.
Sigh. Professor Dent is coming to visit today. Will make him sit on the tiny chair in the corner as punishment.
Friday 29th May. 11.52am.
“Bond came to see me this morning,” he told me. As if he couldn’t do that over the phone. And that means Bond STILL hasn’t been killed – I cannot tolerate failure. Gave him a tarantula to do the job instead. Dent took two attempts to pick that up. With any luck it’ll sting him on the way home too.
And as if that wasn’t enough, the interior decorators completed my aquarium last night but they installed a concave lens instead of a convex one. Now all my fish look like tadpoles. How am I meant to establish myself as the world’s first super-villain with that? That’ll take the total bill to 1 million dollars now. I hate Fridays.
Friday 29th May. 6pm.
Went for a quick stroll along the beach this afternoon to celebrate another successful operation and the fixing of my aquarium. Took forever to get decontaminated in the showers afterwards, though. Oh well, at least toppling American missiles makes up for having no hands. So happy I could almost smile. Almost.
(Mental note: Chang keeps stepping out of place during operations. Should probably have a word just in case it becomes a problem.)
Saturday 30th May. 10.19pm
Some strange activity on the island tonight. Most likely just fishermen hunting for shells again. Sent out the dragon to scare them. It’s so much fun to say that. Brian called it a tank the other day. I had him burned to death. By the dragon.
Saturday 30th May. 11pm.
Turns out it’s James Bond on the island. That guy just doesn’t stop. Could it be that I’ve finally found my intellectual equal?
Saturday 30th May. 11.30pm.
I’ve decided to invite Bond to lunch. He will understand why I’ve done all of this. He will appreciate my brilliance. My ambition. My determination to prove my parents who abandoned me wrong. The attention to detail in my Crab Key HQ, from the doors that look like they’re from X-Men and the sheepskin rugs to the fluffy blue dressing gowns in the guest rooms. We’ll wear Nehru suits. And talk about power. He’ll admire my unique understanding of radioactivity, the gigantic aquarium and my portrait of me as Napoleon.
What a happy day this is. May put on my pink glove with the sparkles.
Saturday 30th May. 11.45pm.
Disaster! The Napoleon painting still isn’t finished! Drugged Bond’s coffee so the artist will have long enough to complete it. Now to pick out the best white shoes and Nehru suit from my wardrobe of white shoes and Nehru suits.
I like writing “Nehru”. Nehru Nehru Nehru.
Sunday 31st May. 8am.
Walked in on Bond while he was sleeping, despite one of the servants calling me “creepy”. He certainly looks like a smart man. I might even ask him if he wants to join SPECTRE.
Best. Sunday. Ever.
Sunday 31st May 4pm.
WORST. SUNDAY. EVER.
Bond turned out to be nothing more than a stupid policeman.
Told him my story of how I robbed the Tongs of $10 million and he didn’t look impressed. Then he tried to smuggle a table knife past me – a table knife! – and laughed at my portrait. Claimed I had a Napoleon complex. Has he been reading my therapist’s files?
Oh, and he didn’t compliment me on my white Nehru suit. And I thought we could be BFFs.
He hadn’t even heard of SPECTRE. I know we’re a secret organisation, but come on! We’ve got rings and everything. Does nobody possess true intelligence any more?
“Does the toppling of American missiles really compensate for having no hands?” Bond asked me. I should’ve just said “Yes” and punched him in the face with my bionic fist. (Mental note: Have therapist burned to death by the
Well, it’s too late anyway. He’ll see this afternoon when we topple that next missile. Oh, yes. He’ll see. Now I’ve set the example, something tells me this is the start of a whole new era of super-villainy. And there’ll be no one to stop it.
Dr. No is available to watch online on iTunes and Google Play.