YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE (James Bond Classic). Ian Fleming

That passes the buck, psychologically, on to the Emperor, and he’s got to make his peace with ancestors and gods. But that’s all right with him, because he embodies all the echelons above him, so he can get on with dissecting fish, which is his hobby, with a clear conscience. Got it? It’s not really as mysterious as it sounds. Much the same routine as operates in big corporations, like I.C.I. or Shell, or in the Services, except with them the ladder stops at the Board of Directors or the Chiefs of Staff. It’s easier that way. You don’t have to involve the Almighty and your great-grandfather in a decision to cut the price of aspirin by a penny a bottle.’

      ‘It doesn’t sound very demokorasu to me.’

      ‘Of course it isn’t, you dumb bastard. For God’s sake, get it into your head that the Japanese are a separate human species. They’ve only been operating as a civilized people, in the debased sense we talk about it in the West, for fifty, at the most a hundred years. Scratch a Russian and you’ll find a Tartar. Scratch a Japanese and you’ll find a samurai–or what he thinks is a samurai. Most of this samurai stuff is a myth, like the Wild West bunk the Americans are brought up on, or your knights in shining armour at King Arthur’s court. Just because people play baseball and wear bowler hats doesn’t mean they’re quote civilized unquote. Just to show you I’m getting rather tight – not drunk, mark you – I’d add that the U.N. are going to reap the father and mother of a whirlwind by quote liberating unquote the colonial peoples. Give ’em a thousand years, yes. But give ’em ten, no. You’re only taking away their blow-pipes and giving them machine guns. Just you wait for the first one to start crying to high heaven for nuclear fission. Because they must have quote parity unquote with the lousy colonial powers. I’ll give you ten years for that to happen, my friend. And when it does, I’ll dig myself a deep hole in the ground and sit in it.’

      Bond laughed. ‘That also doesn’t sound very demokorasu.’

      ‘“I fornicate upon thy demokorasu” as brother Hemingway would have said. I stand for government by an elite.’ Dikko Henderson downed his ninth pint of saké.

      ‘And voting graded by each individual’s rating in that elite. And one tenth of a vote for my government if you don’t agree with me!’

      ‘For God’s sake, Dikko! How in hell did we get on to politics? Let’s go and get some food. I’ll agree there’s a certain aboriginal common sense in what you say ...’

      ‘Don’t talk to me about the aborigines! What in hell do you think you know about the aborigines? Do you know that in my country there’s a move afoot, not afoot, at full gallop, to give the aborigines the vote? You pommy poofter. You give me any more of that liberal crap and I’ll have your balls for a bow-tie.’

      Bond said mildly, ‘What’s a poofter?’

      ‘What you’d call a pansy. No,’ Dikko Henderson got to his feet and fired a string of what sounded like lucid Japanese at the man behind the bar, ‘before I condemn you utterly, we’ll go and eat eels – place where you can get a serious bottle of plonk to match. Then we’ll go to “The House of Total Delight”. After that, I will give you my honest verdict, honestly come by.’

      Bond said, ‘You’re a no-good kangaroo bum, Dikko. But I like eels. As long as they’re not jellied. I’ll pay for them and for the later relaxation. You pay for the rice wine and the plonk, whatever that is. Take it easy. The wingy at the bar has an appraising look.’

      ‘I come to appraise Mr Richard Lovelace Henderson, not to bury him.’ Dikko Henderson produced a wad of thousand yen notes and began counting them out for the waiter. ‘Not yet, that is.’ He walked, with careful majesty, up to the bar and addressed himself to the large Negro in a plum-coloured coat behind it. ‘Melody, be ashamed of yourself!’ Then he led the way, with massive dignity, out of the bar.