Crisis, What Crisis?

17/05/11 -- Crisis, What Crisis was as some of you may recall a 1975 album by Supertramp, with the title taken from a line in the 1973 film The Day of the Jackal. See, education mixed with a bit of culture, that's what you get here.

Well, French Environment Minister Nathalie Kosciusko-Morizet (she may sound foxy, but I've just Googled her and she isn't) says that they are in "a situation of crisis" over there after one of hottest and driest Aprils on record. The drama queen, but that's the French for you.

The women over there don't even shave their armpits, or is that the Germans? Or both? I don't want to find out. You can say what you like about MrsN#1 but at least she was scrupulous in that department. She may have been somewhat relaxed in others, but she never once failed a 7am pit hair inspection to my recollection. She may have had a face like a blind cobblers thumb, but she never let that affect her personal hygiene. At least not until near the end anyway.

I went there once, France that is not MrsN#1, at least not with the lights on, and you'll never believe this right but half the bars and restaurants only have one toilet in them. That's right, incredible isn't it? If you fancy a swift number two then there's every possibility that you're going to have you mojo upset by Ms Kosciusko-Morizet hammering on the door demanding to know how much longer you are going to be. Now that's a real crisis. She looks pretty mean in the publicity shots, so what's she going to be like when you've just settled down with a copy of the Paris Match for your afternoon Forest Gump?

They've imposed water consumption limits in 28 of their 96 administrative departments. That's just an excuse not to have a bath if you ask me. You can see a picture of Napoleon's bathroom here, it look pretty clean doesn't it? Suspiciously too clean if you ask me, like never been used clean. Ms Kosciusko-Morizet won't be needed to be getting the rubber gloves and Cillit Bang out for that one will she? They're a notoriously filthy bath-despising nation the French.

Never trust them, that's what me Grandad used to say. And he should know he fought with them in the war. Well when I say with them, they were supposed to be there but they never showed up, forgot to set their alarm or something. Muttered something about being a bit sorry, in French obviously, I mean they're not going to thank you for saving them in a language you can understand are they? That'd be too much to ask for wouldn't it.

Did you know that there's seventy-three different French words for "surrender" but only one for "soap"? It's true that, me Grandad told me that one.

It's probably lashing it down over there right now. When I went that's exactly what it did, so they clearly can't be trusted. Nobody even bothers to try and speak a little bit of English when you're over there you know right to this day, just to make you feel at home like. It's just French, French, French all day long.

And I still haven't forgiven Thierry Henry for that handball, and I'm not even Irish. Me Grandad was "a bit Irish" but we don't like to talk about it.