Verity Johnson: How James Bond ruined me

Verity says she has been addicted to James Bond since she first heard Sean Connery's buttery Scottish voice. Photo / File

Everyone remembers their first. Mine was Sean Connery. Mr Connery: my first Bond, my first love and my first introduction to chest hair.

Really it was Peirce Brosnan who should have been my first Bond, after all it was he who was playing 007 when I was growing up. However my Mum was unconvinced about his pretty hair ("It's just so ... floppy; he's not a man, he's a bunny!") and decided that I should start with Sean instead. So I began to watch James Bond from the very beginning. I've been addicted to it ever since I first heard that buttery Scottish voice in the opening scenes of Dr No.

Given that Daniel Craig is again filling our screens, and our minds, with his glistening, gritty incarnation of 007, I've been thinking about what growing up with James Bond has done to me. He's taught me a lot - like when you're ordering spaghetti bolognaise from hotel room service, the KGB will be taking note, and they will care whether you're gluten free.

But he's also ruined a lot for me. When you watch James Bond so much from so young, you end up with some funny ideas about how things work. So here you are James, these are some of the things you've screwed up for me.

Showering

I'm not sure if it's a cost-cutting method or if they've just got a sponsorship deal with Pantene, but either way, you know every Bond film will feature a bathroom scene. Normally where a woman is showering while unaware that Bond is watching her. Well, I say 'showering.' What's she's actually doing is twirling around the cubicle, groping herself and frantically running her hands through her hair like she's got killer nits. I've watched so many women do this that now whenever I shower, I feel the need to wriggle around, pawing at my hair like I'm an enormous caterpillar with a dandruff problem. And this is very distracting. Not to mention exhausting. And it gives me no time to practice what I would do if I had to strangle a Russian assassin with my loofa.

Zac Efron

Zac Efron was my generation's Robert Redford or Mel Gibson. The walking, talking, glowing Ken doll stole the hearts of tweens everywhere. Except me. He'd take his shirt off, my friends would scream, and I would scowl. I couldn't understand why he was so hairless. I was expecting chest hair, back hair, armpit hair....I'd been raised on Sean Connery, whose chest pelt could have nestled several small lorikeets. Hot men had hair. But every time I saw Zac Efron, all I could think of was how he looked like a nectarine. Golden, smooth, hairless ... one of my daily portions of vitamin and fibre. And no one can fall in love with their daily intake of fibre.

Entering a bar

Have you ever seen James Bond enter a bar? He walks in slowly, looks around slowly, blinks slowly. He looks like Hercules - when Hercules has just woken up from a general anaesthetic. The girls are even worse. They walk in and look around aimlessly - needlessly raising their eyebrows, sucking in their cheeks and sticking out their lips in a permanently surprised trout pout. I now do this. As soon as I enter a bar, I do the "Woman Who Thinks She's A Bond Girl Face." My friend once took a photo of me doing it. I look like I've been hit over the head with a brick.