Well, it's over
Tendered in my resignation yesterday and it's just hitting the papers. I don't like negotiation, dammit. I don't need any more reminders that I'm getting older and that I'm not as flexible as I used to be. The only time I like to hear about my body and what I can do with it is when I'm between two men and they're trying to figure out how to do it so it hurts the worst.
So no more Bond for Brosnan. I'm hanging up my tights Walther and riding off into the sunset with my Bond boy.
But I still think Bond could whup Sharpe's arse anyday.