Kitten Kaboodle

We remember the time that voluptuous blonde
Called Kitten Kaboodle ran into James Bond
And who can forget his lascivious leer?
Romantically blowing his smoke in her ear
Whilst pouring his glass of contractual booze
He makes her an offer she cannot refuse

It started of course a long time before that
Before her script even arrived on the mat
The producer had shown her his thingamabob
"It is," he said, "one of the perks of the job!"
And so, once again in a slough of despond
Kitten Kaboodle prepared for James Bond

Some like it on top; some prefer underneath
Kitten Kaboodle just gritted her teeth
And threw herself willingly into the part
For Queen and for country, and possibly art
However you cut it, it works out the same
It's merely a drama by some other name

The director, she knew, had a wandering eye
"We could try a close-up!" – he loosened his tie
So once more she'd done what she'd rather have not
Convincing herself it was key to the plot
Like titles, they rolled and they came at the end
But what is an act if it's not to pretend?

That night of the premiere, Kitten arrived
Another completed, another survived
An all-action movie and, just like before
So much of it down on the cutting room floor
Her Oscar performance, above and beyond
Brought Kitten a part in another James Bond