The French
The French, eh what are they all about?
They click their fingers,
as if you weren't already aware of their presence...
They have ghastly eating habits,
mouths wide open, forks waving in the air, hands in the potatoes...
And then there is the snippiness, rudeness, and air of superiority.
(Them, not me, okay me as well)
You would think that when faced with the immovable object, me, there would be fireworks, but funnily enough that wasn't the case.......
They click their fingers,
as if you weren't already aware of their presence...
They have ghastly eating habits,
mouths wide open, forks waving in the air, hands in the potatoes...
And then there is the snippiness, rudeness, and air of superiority.
(Them, not me, okay me as well)
You would think that when faced with the immovable object, me, there would be fireworks, but funnily enough that wasn't the case.......
Complex?not really,
just very very naughty....
I normally wouldn't be standing for such boorish behavior, especially the finger clicking but there is something about the French that I just really like. Maybe it's because they don't care about what the world thinks of them or because they just do it their way and to hell with everyone else. If I didn't live in Ireland I think I would like to live in France. All those lovely strikes and snootiness is just so me.
My only problem with serving the French is that awful awful thing that happens to my voice. I put on this pathetic mock French accent, all "ooohhs" and "aaahhhs". I go very Yodaish and I'm unable to string a coherent sentence together at all.
"Ah sir yes lamb is the good! C'est magnifique is the lamb..." and so on. Oh wow I'm going red as I recall how cheesy I was. It's as if by sounding French I am speaking French. They must be as equally confused as they are horrified. And the worst thing being that there is no need for it as they all spoke perfect English.
Then there were the goodbyes. There was kissing, much kissing. Both cheeks. And it wasn't just the women. Good grief! There were 16 of them! Irishmen cant cope with such displays of public touching, not even from their own wives or partners. A simple but firm handshake is more than enough, a wave of a hand even. But being kissed on both cheeks by well wined French people with stubble was very unnerving for a simple boy like me. I was awkward and fumbled a lot much like a politician who's been forced to take part in a kick about with some kids. I couldn't wait for it to end......
It's all been very European this weekend at work. Saturday night we had 14 Swiss women for dinner. Nice-ish people, a bit pushy and a bit, well, rude. But we let them off with it as they are neutral and unlikely to go to war with us and you never know when you need to hide some cash or stolen gold. But wow do they dress badly. Okay bad isn't very fair but I have to say I haven't seen clothes like that since the 80's. They had the haircuts to match, lots of lady mullets and bad tinting. Think a Scorpions gig circa 1987 and you'll be about right.
I wasn't serving them but helped when their main courses were ready. I brought down the lamb. In my politest and clearest voice I announced the lamb, not because I was particularly proud of it (but it is damn fine), but because I needed to know who was having it.
No response.
I announced it again.
Lots of puzzled looks. Again, still no one would claim the by now cooling rack of lamb. Eventually one lady twigged what I was on about and she claimed ownership. There was much laughing.
Not by me.
My arm hurt.
Huh.
But as I walked away there was lots of fast talking followed by laughter. Each of the women took it in turn to impersonate my accent.
"LAWMB" they shouted in a half French half piss poor Belfast accent. I laughed. Most of that part of the restaurant laughed. Then I stopped laughing. And dished out a few dirty looks. Well you have to put them in their place no?
C'est magnifique are my looks of dirtiness.......as we say round here.
My only problem with serving the French is that awful awful thing that happens to my voice. I put on this pathetic mock French accent, all "ooohhs" and "aaahhhs". I go very Yodaish and I'm unable to string a coherent sentence together at all.
"Ah sir yes lamb is the good! C'est magnifique is the lamb..." and so on. Oh wow I'm going red as I recall how cheesy I was. It's as if by sounding French I am speaking French. They must be as equally confused as they are horrified. And the worst thing being that there is no need for it as they all spoke perfect English.
Then there were the goodbyes. There was kissing, much kissing. Both cheeks. And it wasn't just the women. Good grief! There were 16 of them! Irishmen cant cope with such displays of public touching, not even from their own wives or partners. A simple but firm handshake is more than enough, a wave of a hand even. But being kissed on both cheeks by well wined French people with stubble was very unnerving for a simple boy like me. I was awkward and fumbled a lot much like a politician who's been forced to take part in a kick about with some kids. I couldn't wait for it to end......
It's all been very European this weekend at work. Saturday night we had 14 Swiss women for dinner. Nice-ish people, a bit pushy and a bit, well, rude. But we let them off with it as they are neutral and unlikely to go to war with us and you never know when you need to hide some cash or stolen gold. But wow do they dress badly. Okay bad isn't very fair but I have to say I haven't seen clothes like that since the 80's. They had the haircuts to match, lots of lady mullets and bad tinting. Think a Scorpions gig circa 1987 and you'll be about right.
I wasn't serving them but helped when their main courses were ready. I brought down the lamb. In my politest and clearest voice I announced the lamb, not because I was particularly proud of it (but it is damn fine), but because I needed to know who was having it.
No response.
I announced it again.
Lots of puzzled looks. Again, still no one would claim the by now cooling rack of lamb. Eventually one lady twigged what I was on about and she claimed ownership. There was much laughing.
Not by me.
My arm hurt.
Huh.
But as I walked away there was lots of fast talking followed by laughter. Each of the women took it in turn to impersonate my accent.
"LAWMB" they shouted in a half French half piss poor Belfast accent. I laughed. Most of that part of the restaurant laughed. Then I stopped laughing. And dished out a few dirty looks. Well you have to put them in their place no?
C'est magnifique are my looks of dirtiness.......as we say round here.
