Connery’s comeback caper, easily the best ‘non-serious’ Bond of the lot. It’s endearingly daft without being offensively stupid (yes, Moonraker, we’re looking at you), goes all over the place without getting tedious, and features the great more-than-just-a-dodgy-stereotype sub-villains Kidd and Wint. OK, so Charles Gray is a disappointingly avuncular Blofeld, Jill ‘Tiffany Case’ St. John and Lana ‘Plenty O’Toole’ Wood don’t do much, and the theme song’s by Shirley bleedin’ Bassey again, but what a plot! Directionless, profligate, vulgar and wantonly episodic, just how Bond should be. You can imagine the scene – with only weeks to go until shooting starts, round the big conference table a hundred harried writers nervously pitch their little bits of business – “OK, so there’s this robotic pipe-welder, right…” “There’s a bomb hidden in a big fake trifle…” “Bond fights two feisty kung fu ladies in bikinis!” “How about we have Q playing the fruit machines?” “… and so the car goes up on two wheels…” “… he sticks the marching band cassette down her pants…” “… false fingerprints…” “… TWO Blofelds…” “… a moon buggy!!” – and Good Old Cubby, at head of table, holds up his hand for silence, takes a drag on his cigar, leans forward and says, “Fellas… we’ll shoot ’em all!” And we’re so glad he did.