I was gently and quietly swaying my way up one of the Sauze d'Oulx chairlifts today, the gorgeous snow sliding beneath me, pitted with lost poles, gloves, ski maps, and, almost certainly, mobile phones already sunk and out of sight.

It got me thinking, since I was on my own on this particular lift, what a great scene it would make in a spy movie, if I were the bad guy, and my target was in the chair behind me. I could just turn around, twist the secret ring on my left-hand ski pole, and fire a small but deadly-calibre bullet into him. He would look surprised, quizzical almost, until realisation dawned on his face as the blood bloomed on his ski jacket, and he would slump forward over the safety bar, his lifeless corpse carried upwards towards the sky.

I would raise my safety bar, leap off into the soft powder below, and expertly ski off-piste, pausing only in some trees to turn my ski jacket and hat inside out. The guy in the red jacket and black beanie is now unrecognisable in a black jacket and yellow beanie, and escapes down the mountainside.

The corpse meanwhile arrives at the top of the lift, surprising the attendant when he fails to get off the chair. 'Signor! Signor!' the attendant cries, as he realises the skier is incapable of exiting. He brings the chairlift to an emergency stop, and talks in rapid Italian into his walking-talkie.

Great scene. And not one I have seen in any movie, though that's not to say it doesn't exist; I might have missed it. My memory of spy ski scenes is firmly cemented in Bond movies, starting with 'On Her Majesty's Secret Service' in 1969.

One-off 007 George Lazenby hurtled down a mountain and thanks to his skiing prowess not only escaped the bad guys but got to marry Diana Rigg as well. Double-Oh Heaven.

It was the music that added huge drama to the scene; I loved it, and was delighted to find it some years later on a CD compilation of best Bond themes, remixed and brought up to date, but no less exciting.

Obviously my own dramatic scene would be somewhat contrived. Our spy would have to time his arrival at the chairlift perfectly - not only to be the sole occupant of his own chair, but directly in front of his target in the chair behind, who would also be travelling alone. He certainly wouldn't be doing this during peak season. The chairs ahead and behind would have to be conveniently empty too. But hey, there have been bigger and more glaringly obvious plot holes than this in films, so it could still work.

But then, taking a leaf from the Georgi Markov assassination by Bulgarian secret police using an umbrella tip coated in ricin, I figured it would be a lot simpler to needle my target down at ground level as he queued for the chairlift. That way I'd have even more time to make my escape and be enjoying an apres-ski martini - shaken, not stirred - as the carabinieri raced to the scene.

On the other hand, it wouldn't be as dramatic.

For a full review of all the Bond ski escapades, check out GQ's amusing summary online. I'm not allowed by OffExploring to provide the link, sorry. Obviously they're spying on me...