Rubbish Q Division

"Now, pay attention Double-O Seven, I've got some new equipment to show you, we've had top people working on it night and day."

"Good morning, Q. I hope you're feeling better after your little ...err... psychotic episode."

"Never felt better, Bond. Never felt better. A couple of weeks chained to a bed does wonders for a man, you know. Just like being back at the old school, what?"

"Errr... right. What exactly have you got for me? Blofeld's planning something nasty, and I need the right tools for the job."

"Glad you asked. Now watch this little beauty carefully - say you're out on a rainy golf course, and have an urgent need to fire live sharks at your enemies."

"Happens all the time, Q, old chap..."

"Good. Excellent. This may look like your common-or-garden golf umbrella, but press this button on the handle and it fires live sharks at your enemies, while you say something pithy like 'Fancy a bite?' Granted, we're still working on a way of carrying the sharks, but we're sure it's a winner."

"Brilliant, Q, brilliant. But surely piranha...?"

"Don't be a nincompoop, Bond. And we're particularly proud of this one: It may look like a traditional fountain pen, but by pressing this button on the remote control, and it sprays the user in the face with a dose of fresh spunk, rendering him utterly incapable."

"It doesn't appear to be working..."

"That's because I haven't filled it yet. Give me five minutes with these photos of Judi Dench and it's all yours. And put that phone away, it's rude."

"Hello? M? Bond here. You're right, he's lost it. I'll just get what I need from the Argos catalogue. Yes, I'll get a receipt."

"And don't touch that, 007. Why not? It's Mrs Q's vibrator, she's going to have the Valentine's Day of her life."