Martini. Vesper Martini.

At least once in one’s life, one has to try the original, dinkum James Bond martini. Alien Wally and Mags have now had one of these twice. Er, had two of these once. Er, had one of these once and then another one once again on another occasion. Or something like that. They are therefore now highly qualified to provide you with the following warning should you wish to shake (not stir) this classic cocktail yourself: Try this at home. At least there, the only people to witness you crawling about on the floor, desperately trying to get your sea legs while the ground beneath you pitches about like a ship caught in a hurricane, are your partner who loves you dearly in sickness and in health, in drunkenness and next day hangovers, and your cat, who already knows that she is vastly superior to you, and doesn’t care what you’re up to anyway as long as the central heating is on and her bed is in front of the radiator.

The cocktail book was not kidding when it described this drink as containing “enough alcohol to floor a rhino”. What Mags wants to know though, is how 007 managed to raise his Golden Gun after consuming one of these…?