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You know the name. You know the number. The cocktails are shaken, never stirred. The tuxedos are pressed, never crumpled and there is not a hair (even when it's a wig) out of place.
Double entendres are plentiful, the punchlines predictable and the sex drive insatiable.
No cliched quip is left unused, no sexual stone unturned.
Bond. James Bond. 007. Licence to kill. There isn't a man over 30 who hasn't uttered that phrase at least once in his life.
In 1962, a low-budget, relatively tame spy thriller called Dr No sneaked into cinemas with minimal fanfare, riding on the publicity generated by John F Kennedy's claim that Ian Fleming's Bond novels adorned the White House bookshelves.
For the opening 15 minutes or so, Dr No is a rather ordinary caper. The prologue is straightforward, the direction unremarkable and the acting slightly stiff, not untypical of low budget British movies in the early 60s.
Then comes the casino scene.
The camera pulls back to reveal a former Scottish milkman in a tuxedo, lighting a cigarette, before uttering: "Bond. James Bond."
With a chiselled jaw, cold eyes and his hair (piece) slicked back to reveal his rugged features, Sean Connery exuded animal magnetism, fashioning a template that his successors imitated, but never surpassed.
Fleming created a character. Connery created an icon, a cinematic institution that allowed the Bond franchise to last over 40 years, 20 movies and survive five actor changes.
Sony-MGM's cash cow is a box-office golden gun. Allowing Bond to live and let die is not an option. So, farewell Pierce Brosnan, thanks for the US$1.5 billion ($2.5 billion) at the box office. Step forward Daniel Craig.
Bond will just have to die another day.
But is that a wise move? The last Bond movie was Brosnan's fourth effort Die Another Day (2002), which took US$160 million at the United States box office, suggesting the franchise had a bright future in the Irishman's hands.
But Die Another Day's success was largely due to its cynical attempt to pay homage to Bond's 40-year legacy, right down to Halle Berry's re-enactment of Ursula Andress' beach entrance in Dr No.
Meanwhile, the Austin Powers spoofs still hurt and Matt Damon's younger, quicker Jason Bourne in the superb Bourne movies have raised the stakes in the spy genre.
Studio executives feared the franchise was going stale and needed a younger actor than 52-year-old Brosnan to attract that all-important teenage crowd.
But Bond has seen all of this before.
The franchise was written off when Connery grew tired of sipping martinis, then when George Lazenby proved even 007 needs a few acting lessons and again when Bond's crusade - The Cold War - finally thawed.
Sceptics also predicted Bond's demise when Timothy Dalton gave arguably the most realistic performance, the one closest to the original source material: Fleming's novels.
In The Living Daylights (1987) and Licence To Kill (1989), 007 left the quips behind with Roger Moore and slept with fewer women.
Most shockingly of all, Bond bled.
Fleming might have approved, but both movies looked anachronistic compared to the Die Hard and Lethal Weapon series. Dalton's licence to kill was quickly revoked and Bond was clearly dying.
But an Irishman rescued England's most prized asset. Brosnan later claimed he was taking Bond back to the raw roots of Connery, but in many ways he did the opposite. His work bordered on plagiarism and the character became a Bond cocktail that was shaken and well stirred.
That's why it worked.
Brosnan's rugged handsomeness was a genetic gift, but it made him more Connery than Moore from the outset.
Like Connery and Dalton, Brosnan never left the audience in any doubt that he could kill somebody.
But he wasn't above a wisecrack either and shared Moore's comic timing.
Connery's Bond was a cold-blooded, government-paid assassin who killed an unarmed man in Dr No. He wasn't a stand-up comedian.
Brosnan could execute a punch and a punchline, probably not as well as either Connery or Moore respectively, but his was a Bond of all trades.
After being confirmed as Brosnan's successor on Friday, Craig must achieve a similar feat in next year's Casino Royale.
But the odds are not yet in his favour. American moviegoers are currently asking "Daniel who?"
Of all the previous Bonds, only Lazenby was completely unheard of on the other side of the Atlantic and he lasted one movie.
Brosnan had a relatively paltry film resume, but was a household name in the United States for his TV work on Remington Steele.
Aside from playing Paul Newman's ruthless gangster son in Road to Perdition (2002), Craig is a non-entity outside of Britain.
His fine work in the London gangster flick Layer Cake (2004) earned critical praise aplenty, but the movie's impact upon the international box office was negligible.
The 37-year-old Craig has boldly stated that he'll take 007 in a new direction, but how many unexplored avenues are left?
Producers have promised to be light on gadgets and high on characterisation.
Bond might now be blond, but the promise of a respected character actor delivering a darker, more serious Bond is nothing new: Dalton went down a similar path and saw his route blocked after just two movies.
But with Martin Campbell, who re-energised the franchise with Goldeneye, at the helm, it's unlikely Casino Royale will offer too many surprises.
History has proven that cinemagoers want escapism from a James Bond movie, not political correctness.
When the British Secret Service's greatest spy battles megalomaniacs (Goldfinger), plays it for laughs (The Spy Who Loved Me) and sprinkles the whole adventure with tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation (Goldeneye), it works.
But when attempts are made to humanise Bond (On Her Majesty's Secret Service), he appears as nothing more than a bland version of Jason Bourne. Ordinary even.
And the audience expects James Bond, not Joe Public.
MGM want to make 007 more "relevant". But moviegoers have never demanded relevance; they want to escape.
James Bond is an absurdity in an absurd world and that can't change.
Craig said he had a few martinis after he was offered the job. But he must remember they should remain shaken, never stirred. - TODAY
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