Autistic James Bond would have a martini with fifteen directions including, but not limited to the number of ice cubes in the shaker and the length of time to shake it. Autistic James Bond, you see, would know that stirring a martini is all wrong.
Bond had a feeling that this might be the CIA man. He knew he was right as they strolled off together towards the bar, after Bond had thrown a plaque of ten mille to the croupier and had given a mine to the huissier who drew back his chair.
‘My name’s Felix Leiter,’ said the American. ‘Glad to meet you.’
‘Mine’s Bond—James Bond.’
‘Oh yes,’ said his companion, ‘and now let’s see. What shall we have to celebrate?’
Bond insisted on ordering Leiter’s Haig-and-Haig ‘on the rocks’ and then he looked carefully at the barman.
‘A dry martini,’ he said. ‘One. In a deep champagne goblet.’
‘Oui, monsieur.’
‘Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon-peel. Got it?’
‘Certainly, monsieur.’ The barman seemed pleased with the idea.
Autistic James Bond would have a martini with fifteen directions including, but not limited to the number of ice cubes in the shaker and the length of time to shake it. Autistic James Bond, you see, would know that stirring a martini is all wrong.
- Ian Flemming, Casino Royale