Act 1 Scene 1: Gay Paris (Paris)

Member Name: mpafp

Product:	Paris
Date:	27/08/02 (285 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Erm..., ..., ...that's it

Disadvantages: Beaucoup

Scene: Gay Paris, Juillet, beaucoup des personnes, le soir, demain.

English Tourist: Hello old fruit, can you tell me the way to the supemarche?
Frog 1: (With a contemptuous snort and shake of his oignons whilst spitting le flem to the ground at tourist's feet) Non.

Paris: Gay, grey, generally quite a shitty place. Don't expect to find a city of romance, it is a cesspit of ostrich-shite.

The Men
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Frenchmen think they are God's gift to womankind, and that if they grease up to women enough it will make up for their obvious ugliness (they will also not recognise this; they think they are gorgeous) and garlic-breath. Ce n'est pas vrai. They also think that French is the beautiful language of love. This is only true if you are speaking to a donkey with a throat infection.

The Girls
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Thankfully for the Frenchmen, many of the jeunes filles de France do actually resemble donkeys. With copious underarm hair. Who are particularly smelly. 'But what about those famous French beauties?' I hear you cry. I have a theory. Wait for it...

In France there is only a certain allowance of beauty. This is very unevenly distributed, the result being that the majority of French girls are dogs, but then you get a few who knock your socks off: Laetitia Casta, Brigitte Bardot, Sophie Marceau, Emma Beart, and the lovely Elise (sister of my French exchange partner when I was 13. Sigh.)

Grey buildings
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Paris is constructed out of some nasty grey stone. As a result it is a dull ashtray of a city. Take no pictures.

The Shops
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For some reason, Paris has an enormous excess of kebab-houses and chemists. You can turn this into a game to occupy your mind and help you temporarily forget you are in the worst city in the world. Two players. One of you is Monsieur les kebab-houses, the other

is Monsieur les chemists. Every time you see a kebab sign, un point pour Monsieur les kebab houses. Every time you see one of those garish green plus signs, un point pour Monsieur les chemists. Last time I played this, over a couple of blocks near the Centre Pompidou, the score was 13-9 to Monsieur les chemists.

Cocksure French
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As well as thinking they are fantastic lovers, the French think they are the centre of fashion (with the anorak being the national uniform? Please!), and have the best wine in the world (encore de bollocks: Burgundy, par example, est merde) etc. etc. etc. The best thing to do when faced with a French person who boasts about such things is to humour him. Otherwise he will start whining like a girl and speaking very fast, which will confuse you and leave you unable to have a sensible debate. You will merely want to smack him one. Just feel certain that one day a new dawn of realisation will come upon the French people and they will realise how inadequate they are.

Scene: Jour de realisation pour les francais, toutes est noir

Frog 2: (prostrate on the ground) Merde! I have just realised how rubbish my nation is. My only prospect is suicide. Hopefully if we all kill ourselves those wonderful English will come and live in our abandoned homes. Rule Britannia. God save the Queen (he stabs himself).



I hate Paris in the Springtime,
I hate Paris in the Fall,
I hate Paris in the Winter, when it smells.
I hate Paris in the Summer, when it still smells.
I hate Paris every moment,
Every moment of the year
I hate Paris,
Why oh why do I hate Paris?
Because the French are near.


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un addition

Un autre reason to hate the French is for pretending to have noble motives for not backing the war on Iraq. Bollocks. Their politicians are possibly to worst in the wor
ld. I'm against the war, but I object to them pretending they have morality, when all of us know that no politician does.

Summary: