Amazon

Sometimes I wake up in the night disturbed by dreams of James Bond. Surely, you might say, that’s the point of him; a man of such raw sex appeal that he can break the somnial boundary of women all over the world. But these aren’t sexy dreams about Bond’s past; they’re nightmarish visions of his future – Bond in the modern British public sector. Picture it, 007 walks in for his briefing with M. The process is not the quick-witted sparring of classic Bond but a long PowerPoint presentation complete with a quiz at the end to show he’s been listening. Miss Moneypenny doesn’t ‘feel comfortable’ booking Bond flights because of the carbon output, so he finds himself on a rail replacement bus service.

What will you do if it all goes wrong? I have a back-up plan. Working for Amazon. Its Luton warehouse offers tours to the public, and I went along to see what my future may hold. The vast hangar sits in a field of mega-sheds near the M25 where built-up London peters out into scrub and green farmland. I arrived at a bright-yellow security gate where I was greeted by Amin and Sophie who seemed thrilled to welcome our party. Six in all. Sophie asked us – or perhaps ordered us – to deposit our phones in a locker whose key she retained during our visit. Amin explained the rules. Follow me. Walk within the blue lines. Ascend staircases on the left. Use the handrail. Off we went.

The debacle of the Washington Post’s hara-kiri last week dispatched the myth that a tech billionaire could save journalism. Jeff Bezos’s purchase of the paper in 2013 was greeted with euphoria, not just because he was a big fat wallet who would absorb the losses, but because we thought his Amazon wizardry was transferable to journalism’s battered business model. The man was a digital titan, for God’s sake. He started selling books online from his garage and built it into a $2.2 trillion consumer nirvana, with a Blue Origin side hustle of suborbital rockets. Surely he would figure out innovative new ways to bring the Post’s rigorous reporting to hungry new audiences?

Military farce Sir: Your leading article (‘The age of realism’, 1 March) argues that the government must invest in the UK’s ‘thinned-out infantry ranks’. This is certainly true, but it does pass over, in my view, the more fundamental issue of the broken recruitment system. My own application to join the Royal Air Force was rejected on the basis that my mother is Polish. Given that Poland is an ally, this seems a curious justification for disqualification. I was born and educated in London, my mother having moved to the UK with my English father 30 years ago. Clearly I am not a security threat, but because ‘computer says no’, I will never be able to enlist. It is, then, with amusement and some frustration that I often read of the ‘recruitment crisis’.