Rod M might not make it over from Germany to Blighty at the end of the month after all. He has accidentally put his passport through the washing machine and has learned it could take up to ten weeks to get a replacement. I was looking forward to seeing him, but there is something irresistibly funny about this.
It just seems so wonderfully prosaic after he has spent his life dodging bullets and bombs everywhere from a refugee camp on the Afghan/Pakistan border, to D.R. Congo. to Ukraine, to Mali etc. on behalf of the UN, the OSCE etc. (There's a photo of the drowned, disfigured remains of the passport, but I have slapped a D-notice on it.)
I like to think of it as the International Man of Mystery's equivalent of "the dog ate my homework."
If Barbara Broccoli approaches me to pen the next James Bond movie (the 26th I think), the pre-credits sequence will involve 007 in the launderette.