In this week's he says, she says, Dan Wainwright is licensed to watch TV, but not Bond movies and Liz Joyce is getting back to the grindstone after a week away.
Dan Wainwright: How will 007 escape from Rupert’s grasp?
Is Rupert Murdoch the new Blofeld, stroking a Persian cat and coming up with a dastardly plan?
I’m not on about phone hacking, but rather the way Sky has imprisoned James Bond.
His evil organisation, whom I shall henceforth refer to as “Spectre”, has bought the rights to all the Bond films for at least a year and yesterday launched a channel showing 007 movies 24 hours a day for the next month.
Britain’s greatest secret agent has been in some scrapes before but I really don’t know how he’s going to get out of this one. Roger Moore’s trademark eyebrow raise just isn’t going to cut it.
This isn’t just a fat man with a laser beam pointed at Bond’s nether regions - Spectre’s got satellites and broadband. These are professionals with proper staff and pension schemes, not anonymous henchmen in a volcano.
Q might be able to rustle up an invisible car with an ejector seat but that isn’t much good against a legally binding contract, unless he was able to stick a tin of exploding talcum powder into the lawyers’ briefcases first.
A little piece of me feels like I’ve just been stripped naked, painted gold and left to asphyxiate in a hotel room. Sorry for the mental picture, I hope you weren’t eating your tea but I feel very strongly about this.
There’s nothing quite like flicking on the TV on a rainy bank holiday afternoon and stumbling across a Bond film.
Apart from the Daniel Craig ones I saw in the cinema I don’t think I’ve ever watched a Bond film from the start.
Bond is just something that crops up when you’re not expecting it and pulls you in like a shark with a laser beam attached to its head. Hang on, that’s Austin Powers.
But my point still stands. Half the fun is working out which one is on before groaning in disappointment that it’s Never Say Never Again, the unofficial remake of Thunderball with Sean Connery in a dodgy syrup.
Tying 007 down to one channel and knowing that he’s always there, just spoils it.
Like Bond himself, the movies offer a quick thrill and then they’re gone before anyone can think about booking an appointment at the sexual health clinic.
Well he does get about a bit, doesn’t he?
Liz Joyce: It’s back to the grindstone – but we need normality
The six of you who regularly read this column will notice that Dan and I took a little break last week.
While he enjoyed the picturesque coastline and old man pubs of Ilfracombe, I was busy eating my way around Tuscany, scoffing pizza, pasta, pancetta and any other foodstuffs beginning with P.
He spent quality time with his beautiful young baby and I spent quality time with ice cream. All was well in the world.
As a result, we have floated back into the office happier and calmer than before.
But it’s got me wondering. While the restorative qualities of our respective holidays are clear to see, would we enjoy a life of leisure all year round?
A world of endless five-star hotels, private beaches and Michelin meals sounds like paradise. But, without the counterbalance of day-to-day work and family commitments, would we really appreciate it?
Perhaps endless means and opportunity ends up being a bit, well, boring. Would lobster and champagne eventually become as mundane as beans on toast and a cuppa?
I think the reason I so enjoyed the pretty little towns and breathtaking cathedrals of my trip was because I’m usually stuck in Wolverhampton. The reason I so appreciated the blissful silence of the rolling hills was because I’m in a room of shouting hacks and ringing phones five days a week.
Not wanting to get all incense sticks and “peace man”, but I’ve come to the conclusion that we all need a bit of yin and yang in life. I don’t think we can fully appreciate the light without a little shadow.
It’s the classic question – would winning the lottery equal instant happiness? This week, Black Country father and daughter Thomas Foden and Irene Harper scooped almost £4 million. I couldn’t be happier for them and the money will instantly change their lives for the better.
But they are 80 and 60 years old, they’ve worked hard all of their lives and deserve to put their feet up. I’m not convinced hitting the jackpot in your 20s, 30s, 40s or 50s would be the same. Surrounded by luxury year after year, would we eventually crave a bit of humdrum normality?
That said, if my numbers come up tonight, you won’t be seeing me next week.