Paris is a Four-Letter Word!!
After they read my objective and accurate description of France last week on this very site, the French Tourist Board was being so impressed that they invite me to come to their country’s capital, Paris, to see for myself how much efforts they have been making in the past seven days in order to improve things. As you can imagine, I was highly septical that anything could be achieved in such a short space of time, especially by a nation that has not even bother itself to learn Spanish. Neverthenonetheless, I am nothing if not a man of goodwill, intolerance, and open-mindedness, plus also the Tourist Board promised to ensure that Paris was entirely free of its residents for the duration of my visit so that I would not even have to look at any Parisians, let alone point, shout, or throw cutlery at them.
Bishops! A Good Start!
Sadly, this impressive foresight on the part of the Tourist Board did not extend to replacing the surly Parisian waiters with courteous, attentive, polite, handsome Spanish waiters. Indeed, not a one of the servants or lower orders I encountered during my trip was had a word of Spanish, and so I was reduce to making the monkey noises which the rest of Europe knows as American, and which the British refer to as English. I am think that I managed to make myself understood for the most of the time. American is, after all, a very simple language in terms of its structure and the objects it refers to: mostly food and cars. A five-year-old American child can speak it and has no need beyond that point to make any further progress in its vocabulary other than the names of its new Chinese overlords and also the latest models from Toyota. Beside, I am pride myself on being able to write a blog in which is not my own native tongueage, and therefore even though it was an imposition, I was endeavour to communicate in this way to the French, knowing that in reality all French people want to pretend to be American any way.
Here, then, is my observations for the benefit of you, both my reader, and the French Tourist Board. Take heeds and learn.
DAY ONE was very nice. I go to the Saint Sulpice church and as you can see above there is a very nice, reverential monument outside to a couple of bishops. I don’t not think that they was any particular big bishops of any note, and this was very encouraging, since the erection of statues to clerical nobodies is a testament to a nation’s level of civilization. Is a form of conspicsuous consumption and much to be applauded, particularly since it gives the poor something to cheer about and also be awestruck by.
Lazy fucking bastrads!!
DAY TWO, however, was providing me with the first evidence I was required to demonstrate why the French empire is went into decline. All over Paris is these rows and rows of bicycles for renting in order for the French peoples to get places in a healthy and planet-friendly manner. How many bicycles can you see in this picture? Yes, hundreds.. And how many of them have a French person on it? Esactly. One. And even he has fallen over, under that car. Yet STILL the French are wonder why they never win the Tour de France. What is more, these bicycles even have the saddles still attached. Is pure decadence. This photo on its own is enough to tell you that this is a country that will roll over and lie down for you to rub its belly and feed it sweetmeats, larks’ tongues, and snake buttocks while you sleep with its women. Or, in the case of Italians, its men.
Is National Suicide!
The Chinese government have recently rescind its “one wife, one child” law in the recognition that the demographics don’t not add up. Sooner or later the Europeans are going to have to recognize it too. There are already more people over the age of 80 in France than under 20, thanks to the stupid idea of a national health service, which keep peoples alive even after they have stop work and are no longer of any use to anyone. And, of course, let us not forget ridiculous ideas such as education for women, along with which is comes stupid other ideas such as their control of their own reproductive organs, contraception, coat-hanger-free abortions, and other such ideological aberrations that are known as feminisisismsm. Either we institute a policy of forced multiple fertilization of our women soon or we introduce a program of involuntary euthanasia for anyone who is retired and cannot put food onto their own plates. It is a simple choice. Otherwise, we will all end up like this lady, who has adopted her son from Mexico, and the entire continent will be overrun with sneaky little Zorros!
Pity the Nation That Has No Need Not to Not Need No Heroes!
What more proof do we need that the French have an entirely frivolous attitude to the manly art of war than Napoleon’s Tomb? Is a national disgrace!!
Exhibit A
I was totally innocently following this lady when I trip over my trousers and was arrested by the police. They let me have my camera back only later after I esplained that I was on an important research project for the French Tourist Board, which include investigating the damaging impact that the effect of walking on the city’s hard pavements all day have on foreign lady tourists’ arse joints. They found my esplanation entirely plausible.
They have a mouse for a pet!
I am not sure if the French Tourist Board was trying to have a joke at my espense (of course it is ALWAYS difficult to know if the French are TRYING to be funny), but the hotel they put me in was right slamp-bang in the middle of the Marais, which is the old Jewish quarter of Paris. How entirely inappropriate! Fortunately for me, all of the Jews there were exported from France ages ago. However, now, instead the place is full of the fucking homosexuals! Talk about out of the flying pan and into the friar! Is a good job I have a sense of humour about these things, I think, and I was determine not to let any small incidents of fisting get in the way of enjoying my trip. I merely allowed myself a wry smile of amusement and reflected on the prediclement. At least I would be going home after my trip. The French and the homosexuals would be stuck with each other!
I am only mention this eventuality in any case because I am ate here above on my final night, in the Marais, and I could not tell if the waiters were homosexuals or not, and I have not still decided if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I think my conclusion is that it is a good thing, but only if the waiters were NOT homosexual, because at least then they can be given some training in being butchier. I also mention this restaurant, however, because it is having a mouse in its dining room, and when I point it out to the waiter, she say to me, “Yes, it’s name is Bernadette. It is our pet.” Oy-vay!! Only in France! Anywhere else in Europe, this restaurant would have been shut down yesterday!
I espect it will be shut down tomorrow, instead of yesterday. I have phoned the Health and Safety people just in case.
A Pale Imitation!
More proof that the French want to be American. It doesn’t even look like her.
Pour Encourager Les Autres
I like to think that the reason the French stuck a massive slab of stone on top of the grave of atheist-Communists Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir was to make sure they would never get up again. With that in mind, is nice to reflect that hundreds and hundreds of other like-minded people bother to make the pilgrimage here to add their own little bit of weight in the form of pebbles and stones. I myself was able to dislodge a brick from the cemetery wall and place it where I imagine their heads are. I then ask a passing lady on her way back from her husband’s funeral if she would mind taking a photograph of me as I squatted over the grave and mimed defecating on it, the thought of which, I think, cheered her up no end, but she was unable to hold the camera still, such was her sobbing. Indeed, she was shaking so much that the camera fly out of her hand and hit me black in the eye. And still she did not laugh! A depressing comment on the state of etiquette in France today. In China, the widows pay the state for the bullets that kill their husbands, and they do not even utter a sigh. This lady was just “Me, Me, Me.”
Anyone for Topless Volleyball?!
This is their beach in Paris. It is rubbish. I stood on this bridge with my binoculars for three hours and didn’t get so much as a nipple. Useless.
Any Escuse for a Lie Down!
The next band was due on stage in three weeks’ time. But do you think that such a fact would inhibit the French from having a nice stretch out in the sun on the concrete, right in the middle of a busy European capital? Not a bit of it. That one’s even asleep, look. He’s not even pretending to face the stage. *
A Hundred Thousand Sneers!
Yes, a hotel aimed specifically for the Irish. And in their favourite colour, too: Orange. Subtext: You are not welcome here. Is no wonder the place is shut down. The French have a lot to learn about hospitality.
DAY THREE: Sleep. Helped police with their further enquiries.
Now THAT is what I call an enigmatic smile!
DAY FOUR: The Louvre. Rubbish. A kid could have done that.
So then, here is my conclusions for the Tourist Board.
1: The idea of making the city Parisian-free for one month a year is a very good one that should be estended to all year round.
2: Try to make it less hot. I am Spanish, and God knows I love a good sweat as much as the next man. I even wore my rubber catsuit and gimp mask for the duration of my visit. But even I draw the line at sweating through my eyeballs. It was NOT crying.
3: Make Spanish the first language of all servants. Import more Spanish food/music/television/wine.
4: Bring back proper public entertainment. Jazz music is neither edifying nor becoming of an adult, God-fearing populace. Witch burnings or esecutions would be good. I thought the French invented that sort of thing. Is very sadly thin on the ground these days.
5: Try less hard to be America. Nobody is going to like you for who you are, but don’t not compound the fault by trying to be someone you are not. Especially not Americans.
6: Mice are not pets.
7: Cheese is not a food.
8: Please make the red light district easier to find. Is not on any of the tourist maps.
9: Please send next assignment soon. I rather like the look of the beaches in Marseilles.
Merci
Manuel
*I am later learning that he was in acute agony as a result of a burst appendix and died on the way to hospital.
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