Commander James Bond, 007 is the ultimate superspy: tough, strong and thoroughly absorbent when it comes to vodka. Right? Of course not. Famously derided by his own creator as a blunt instrument, a description so fitting that it even passed into the films, Bond is an unreliable loose cannon and a lone wolf in a business predicated on relationships, the chain of command and following orders to the letter, not the spirit. Now granted, the James Bond franchise isnt exactly John Le Carré when it comes to authenticity of tradecraft, but even within the context of the movies themselves, 007 is considered to be a wild card a thug in a tux. He repeatedly goes AWOL, has ballsed up more than a few delicate missions by deciding to punch someone in the neck or shoot some other person in the face, and regularly causes more than a few raised eyebrows in public places by engaging in car, bike, speedboat, helicopter, ski and skydiving chases in broad daylight. Hes a heavy drinker whos notoriously indiscriminate about who he sleeps with the man puts the peen into espionage. If all that wasnt enough, this is a professional spy whose idea of a covert op is to dress up to the nines, drive up to the front of the poshest casino in town, sit down opposite the terrorist/war criminal/gangster/fellow spy hes there to take down and introduce himself by his given name. The names Bond. James Bond. Yes, we know. Everyone knows who you are. You keep telling people your name and then shooting them. At least Denny Crane had Alzheimers as an excuse. Theres a popular theory, nicknamed The Inspector Gadget Hypothesis, that speculates that Bond is only sent in to be the clumsy, crude distraction: that his bull-in-a-china-shop clowning about grabs all the attention while the actual spies, working as part of a highly organised and stealthy team, do the real work sub rosa. How we wish that was true.