James Bond – the epitome of style and rugged masculinity. Or is he? When Daniel Craig “re-booted” the role, first in Casino Royale, and now in Quantum of Solace, Bond purists congratulated the producers for returning to the darker, more complex character of Ian Fleming’s novels. So they did, to a degree. However, they also overlooked certain other aspects of the literary Bond. Perhaps wisely …..

• Bond should be gay. The novels were written in the era of the famous homosexual traitors, Burgess, Maclean, and Blunt, when so many MI6 agents were gay that most people must have thought it was a condition of employment. So to portray Bond as heterosexual required a fair degree of artistic licence on Fleming’s part. Nevertheless, doubts do creep in. He regularly drinks pink Champagne, for example. Just how butch is that? And how come he has an instinctive “gaydar” and is always picking up signs of homosexuality in other men, such as the otherwise blameless jewel expert, Mr Snow, in Property of a Lady? Psychologists maintain this is a sure sign of a closet-case (though they’d probably use the more technical term “repressed”).

• Can Bond afford his extravagant lifestyle? When Double-0ing, he’s on expenses. When he isn’t, he has to slum it on his secret service salary plus a small private income. Moonraker (1955) quotes the combined figure as being just over £2,000 per annum, which, in today’s money, is only £22K. (Coincidentally, this, inclusive of London weighting, is the starting salary now advertised by MI6 for field operatives.) Not surprisingly, Bond complains of having “not quite enough.” So how can he can afford “his comfortable flat in the plane-tree'd square off the King's Road”, the vodka Martinis, and the annual service on his Aston Martin’s ejector seat? On tick, most likely. If so, the man may well be single-handedly responsible for the current credit crunch.

• Is Bond past it? If we go by the chronology in the books, yes. In the first, Casino Royale (1953), Bond is in his 30s, so today he’d be approaching 90 and on his second or third Q-Branch Zimmer frame. Though Bond himself confesses that he probably won’t make it even to 45, the mandatory retirement age for Double-O operatives. There are some very good reasons for this. Most, however, have little to do with such standard occupational hazards as being sliced in two by a laser beam or getting on the wrong end of someone’s steel-rimmed bowler hat.

• Bond’s eating habits Bond kicks off each day with an artery-hardening cooked breakfast, courtesy of housekeeper, May. Or, when travelling, he’ll insist on his own recipe scrambled eggs. The short story, 007 in New York, says this includes half a pack of butter plus double cream. Otherwise, Bond subsists on “grilled soles, oeufs cocotte and cold roast beef with potato salad.” Another of Bond’s unhealthy delights is the Doner Kebab, introduced to him by Istanbul Station Chief, Kerim Bey. He loathes fresh fruit and vegetables, spurning the BMA recommended “five a day” completely. Thunderball records him as being overweight, out of condition, and with a blood pressure of 160/90. Most doctors would recommend lifelong medication for this.

• Bond’s drink problem James Bond drinks at least half a bottle of spirits a day when off duty. In From Russia with Love, while flying to Istanbul, he puts away “two excellent Americanos”, two ouzos, two dry Martinis and a half bottle of claret (a good 16 units). Astonishingly, on landing, he manages to walk down the plane’s steps unaided. Even when Bond is on duty, saving the world, he still likes a little snifter or two. In Thunderball, he drinks a double bourbon, two double Martinis, and half a bottle of vintage Bollinger. Then he goes on a secret scuba diving operation with Felix Leiter. How does he manage to swim in a straight line? (Hangovers are, of course, a frequent side-effect, usually remedied with a brandy and soda and a couple of Phensics.)

• Bond’s smoking He smokes between 60 and 70 cigarettes a day – a special Balkan and Turkish mixture. Assuming a 16-hour day, that’s one every 13 minutes. Such a compulsive, unhealthy habit doesn’t make for a rapid getaway if you’re regularly pursued by men with steel teeth. And as these cigarettes have a rather distinctive, cloying smell, so, too would Bond. And any woman getting overly intimate with him. Then again, how many actually would?

• How attractive is Bond to women? Fleming describes him as looking like Hoagy Carmichael, albeit with a cruel expression and a three-inch scar down his right cheek. No offence to the late Hoagy Carmichael, but the man was never exactly a babe magnet. Other aspects of Bond could also turn women off. In Casino Royale, Le Chiffre thoroughly mashes Bond’s scrotum with a carpet beater. Consequently, the line, “The name’s Bond, James Bond”, far from being a masculine Scottish burr, might instead sound more like Joe Pasquale on helium.

• Is he any good in bed? Sadly, Kerim Bey, who informed Bond that he’d tell him about a unique Turkish technique guaranteed to satisfy women, is killed by Red Grant before he can impart the knowledge, thus leaving Bond none the wiser. So when, in From Russia With Love, Bond is secretly filmed having sex with Tatiana Romanova, Rosa Klebb’s minions manage to get the whole thing on just one reel. Assuming Standard 8mm Kodachrome at 16 frames per second, that’s slightly under four and a half minutes, foreplay (if any) included. Or did the director’s cut consist of edited highlights? Unfortunately, Ian Fleming is unclear. What is clear is that very few Bond girls ever hang around for second helpings, which could be significant.

• Bond is a crushing bore. His only interests, outside of smoking and drinking (which he usually multi-tasks) are golf, cards, and his vintage Bentley. In the case of the latter, he’s described as often day dreaming about tuning its engine. You therefore probably wouldn’t want to be stuck beside the man on a long-haul flight if he ever decided to open up about these aspects of his life.

• He does have a tender side with animals, though. To his credit, Bond has a way with Kobe cattle. In You Only Live Twice, he gently massages chochu spirit into a cow’s back while Tiger Tanaka looks on approvingly. “The herdsman was greatly impressed by your sincere performance with his cow,” says Tanaka. How sweet. But how unrugged.

So given all this, perhaps a rethink is in order. If you’re dreaming of a Caribbean beach, with James Bond emerging from the sea in a pair of tight Speedos, a more accurate image would be, not Daniel Craig, but more a sort of wrinkly, limping Johnny Vegas with a red face and emphysema. The man of women’s dreams? Of M’s dreams, even? Not according to one of M’s employees, an anonymous MI6 spokesman: “Obviously, we can’t comment on exactly who we do employ, but I can say that the character described in the books would probably find great difficulty getting a job with us as a cleaner, let alone a field agent.”