“I’VE just has one of the most awful afternoons,” my neighbour told me after a visit to the cinema.

“We went to see Rust and Bone but it had finished so we saw something else instead,” she told me.

She’s in her eighties, and from the look on her face I thought she’d sat through The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in 3D.

But no, it was 50 times more horrible than that. She and her friend had seen their first Bond film.

“It said it wasn’t suitable for anyone under 12, but to my mind it was suitable ONLY for children under 12,” she growled.

“And I can’t believe a talented actress like Judi Dench would agree to star in such rubbish.”

If I’d seen her beforehand I’d have warned her. I’m positively allergic to James Bond.

I’ve seen a fair few Bond films but can honestly say I can’t remember any of them.

They all blend into one mass of speedboat chases, glamorous women, casinos, thick-necked villains and explosions (millions of them).

All I can remember from the many hours of Bond footage I sat through in my youth is a man with golden teeth (a villain I assume), a bungalow that (I think) rose up from underground, a shark-infested swimming pool and someone hanging from a helicopter. And, of course, lots of kissing and frolicking around involving a topless Bond and various semi-clad females.

I expect the latest offering features much the same stuff.

Secret agents aren’t really like Bond — with his pouting and posing he’s more like a ludicrous caricature than a real bloke. If spies looked like him they’d hardly blend in with the general populous.

In reality secret agents are middle-aged, slightly overweight men who wear beige overcoats and do nothing more exciting than swap briefcases in parks.

And they certainly don’t behave like Bond, strutting around in a tuxedo, pausing occasionally to release surface-to-air missiles from the heel of his shoe or bed a passing blonde. They’re paid to be low-key for heaven’s sake.

I know it’s fiction, and it’s entertainment, but you can only watch so many cars being blown up and so many glistening torsos emerging from tropical oceans.

Far more interesting, to me anyway, is the life of real-life spy Guy Burgess who worked for the Soviet Union while with MI6 during the late 1940s. The TV drama An Englishman Abroad is a far more watchable and enjoyable experience than any Bond movie.

And if it’s sex appeal you want, Alan Bates knocks all those Bonds into a cocked hat. And he doesn’t take his top off once.