On Dr No

On Dr No

She emerged from the sea onto the Spanish beach like Ursula Andress in Dr No.

Tiny, white, postage stamp bikini that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Every curve, every inch of flesh, every gleam in her eye.

Hair slicked back on her head, cascading over her right shoulder.

She stood, surveying the beach around her, the man of uncertain age eyeing her from not far away, for when she bathes in the Mediterranean, every man's head is turned.

Twenty stone if she were a pound, world sea levels drop two inches.

She waves at her six-stone-weakling of a husband, revealing the Black Forest nestling in her armpit.

The man at the café table swallows back a little sick.

Followed by quite a lot of sick, which he fails to swallow back.

Do No? "Dr AAARGH NO NO NO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOOOO!", more like.