Jane, David and I were not needed for the funeral scene, so we sat around, as actors will, swapping tall stories on lines we have loved and loathed. I told them about a Saint episode in which I had to say: ‘He was responsible for perforating the intestinal tracks of Himmler’s hatchet man with even more ulcers than bullets.’ I was fine in rehearsal,

When I first knew I was going to do Bond, Harry Saltzman, who co-produces the Bond series with Cubby Broccoli, said it must be

The peace was shattered by the roar of Evinrude engines as Bond’s boat, with me at the wheel, leaps out of the water and up onto the lawn, closely followed by one of the villains, whose boat outstrips mine and lands in the swimming pool. A powerboat with a 135-hp Evinrude sitting in a kidney-shaped swimming pool on somebody’s lawn is a ludicrous

shots, and after a miserably anxious day the good news came. The film had been successfully screened in London.

The sun had dipped below the sea as Doctor Hinds and I sat in a summer house illuminated by Ted Moore’s lights. Turbaned, and backed by five incanting obeah students, he began. Chris Doll’s camera rolled, and I learned within the next year or so I shall have an operation for what he thought would be gallstones. I was slightly ruffled because, as I

Speculation on what happens after love scenes on film sets is, I believe, rife. Do they continue in private, or do they stand up and slap each other? The truth is much more mundane and usually along the lines of what happened to Gloria and me today. We shared a car for the drive back to the Sans Souci and chatted about everything under the sun,

Tomorrow, we shoot a wedding scene where Bond, pursued by villains, roars in a speedboat across a 200-yard-long lawn on which a bridal pair are taking their vows. Alas, the local radio picked up the news and wrongly announced that we needed extra wedding guests. It will be chaos.

When Yaphet Kotto came to New Orleans and gave the Black Power salute, there were those who said he had a chip on his

When the call came for me to get to work this morning, it was to Second Avenue at 94th Street, but to the confusion of New Yorkers, our Art Department had altered the street sign to read 124th Street, which is deep in Harlem. The corner had been spotted on a location recce and deemed perfect for the exterior of the Fillet of Soul restaurant, which