In lieu of something about birding and/or Gwent I give you, hot off the Olivetti Lettera 32, the closing scene of Act II of the, as yet unfinished, musical masterpiece "Goldfinch",...
Bond: Do you expect me to talk?
Auric Goldfinch: No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die.
Bond: Er,... sing? Surely you meant sing?
Auric Goldfinch: Oh yes,... sorry, I was a million miles away.
[Camera zooms out, simultaneously the set of the interior of the villains lair is hoisted away to reveal the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra who, with a fanfare of brass, launch into "Goldfincher" (not in the slightest bit composed by John Barry, or with lyrics by Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley) as Dame Shirley Veronica Bassey DBE (or, if she's too expensive, someone dressed as Dame Shirley Veronica Bassey DBE [Ant or Dec p'raps?]) enters stage right and sings...]
Goldfincher
He's the finch, the finch with the Midas touch
A finches touch
Such a cold finch
Beckons you to enter his nest of sin
But don't go in
Golden calls he will pour in your ear
But his calls can't disguise what you fear
For a golden girl knows when he's pecked her
It's the peck of death ...
From Mister Goldfincher
Pretty girl, beware of his wing of gold
This wing is cold
Golden calls he will pour in your ear
But his calls can't disguise what you fear
For a golden girl knows when he's pecked her
It's the peck of death ...
From Mister Goldfincher
Pretty girl, beware of his wing of gold
This wing is cold
He loves only gold
Only gold
He loves gold
He loves only gold
Only gold
He loves gold
... and nyger seed.
[Fade to black]
This. Is. Gold dust.
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