Ian Fleming’s legacy is palpable for a number of very fine reasons. There’s a predeliction for rafish bow ties worn even in bed (allegedly). His efforts in the war, including the brilliantly entitled ‘Operation Ruthless’, a plan to capture the Nazi’s communications encoding devices. However, nothing really comes close to his most famous creation - Commander James Bond.

Agent of the British Secret Service, Bond was a jet-setting womaniser who’s taste for danger and destruction was only matched by his penchant for dry martinis, fast cars and sharp suits. Every boys hero, every man’s grudging role model and every woman’s bloody nightmare I’d expect. Still, if there’s one thing to be said for the man, he really knew how to cut a swathe between saving the world and hitting us with some of the worst punnage imaginable (Moore’s immortal ‘keeping the British end up’ springs to mind).

From Dougie Haywood’s epic suits for Connery to the latest bespoke Row numbers Daniel Craig’s been jogging about in, I’ve always harboured a bit of an urge to kit myself out in a bit of Bond-style finery. However, the look doesn’t come cheap.

Key to the look? The suit. I wandered into Kilgour on Saville Row a couple of weeks ago, only to realise that, save punting a kidney on Ebay and remortgaging my siblings, i could just about afford some of their horn buttons. On the tick. My chances of trading up the Flik-Flak for a shiny new Omega also rest between ’slim’ and ‘none’. Aston Martin? I’ll be walking.

However, there is hope. The humble martini. A man can still feel genuinely Jamesesque for the same price as a couple of packets of gaspers. And, after drinking more than two of them, you’ll forget the fact that you’re wearing the sort of tailoring that bouncers in the midlands favour, your car’s a Lada and you work in a call centre in Basildon. It might sound more Oddbins than Oddjob but, believe me, it’s cheaper in the long run!