Wednesday, February 27, 2008

the french rejection

‘Bonjour’, said the rough looking man as I stepped into the shed hidden deep in the woods. ‘You must be the new gamekeeper’, I said tentatively. He shrugged, not taking his eyes away from hanging the freshly caught ferrero rochers from a game hook. I felt a little frisson as his big rough hands worked amongst all his big rough gamekeeper stuff in his big rough shed. ‘Oui’, he said. ‘I 'ave downshifted from France’ . Crikey, I thought, that must be the first time anyone retired from the Dordogne to buy a cottage in Barnsley. ‘So how did you come to get this job?’ I asked. ‘I played ze garde-chasse in ze French version of Lady Chatterley,' he answered, ‘and I discovered I liked being an English gamekeeper’. I nodded in understanding. ‘It was very brave, a French actor playing a northern working class englishman’, I said. ‘Well’, he thought for a moment, ‘I thought if Juliette Binoche can get away wiz playing Catherine Earnshaw, 'ow bad can I be compared to her?' ‘


'I suppose it was the fresh air, being in the country, living with nature that made you become a gamekeeper’, I proffered. He shook his head. ‘Non’, he said, correcting me (translation: no), ‘it was shagging the landowners wife of course’. Well, I reflected, he was French after all. ‘All upper class English women are desperate for it, n’est pas?’ ‘Well, I’m sure I couldn’t possibly comment!’ I said, trying to sound convincing. I really didn't want to shed my inhibitions innan actual shed. He shrugged again. ‘so err’, I began, ‘has their been anyone special?’ He looked up. ‘Zer was a woman’, he said, ‘but she broke my urt’. I looked down, embarrassed. ‘Did she tell you she loved you then go back to her husband, is that how she broke your heart?’ He looked at me strangely. ‘No, she broke my urt, she put her foot right through ze floor of my urt over zer’, and he pointed across the room. ‘Mon dieu!’ he sighed, 'I mean, who goes in an urt wearing high heels?’ I kicked off my shoes quietly.


‘So, what can I do for you Madame Super?’ he asked. ‘Have you got any eggs, say half a dozen?’ He shrugged, again, and I thought he really should improve his repertoire of stereotypical French gestures if he wanted to be in my blog again. ‘I ‘ave only got one egg left’, he told me. ‘Oh well, I shall try somewhere else then’, I replied. ‘Oh, so one egg is not un ouef then, eh?’ he snapped with a huff. ‘Look’, I said, annoyed, ‘Just tell me where I can get some eggs’. he raised his eyebrows. ‘You could try Sean Bean next door’, he said. ‘Sean never has any trouble getting ze birds to lay for him...hello?...Rilly?...oh...where did she go..?’

9 comments:

CrazyCath said...

Ab fab.

Do invite me up to help out with Sean....

mutterings and meanderings said...

Sean Bean and his fabulous John Thomas ... sigh ..

Expatmum said...

Groan, groan, groan. More puns than...I"m not sure what but definitely groan-worthy.

Mopsa said...

Wasn't SB YOUNG back then? Weak smile though. Rilly, that was hilarious.

aims said...

I'm ashamed to say I had to look up Sean Bean as I didn't know who he was....... uh.....are you there Rilly?

Rob Clack said...

Just stumbled upon your 'pregnant camels..' quote in mopsa's blog from last summer. No idea how I came not to see it at the time, but thank you! I love it!

Not so sure about 'one egg is not un oeuf' though. Actually, that's not true. I am completely sure about it!

Motheratlarge said...

Rilly, you are mentioned in today's Guardian. In the weekly pull-out Guide p33, on Blog Roll, errr, 'Mums'. We girls are both featured in it.

rilly super said...

crazycath, now look here, join the queue!

M&M, Is John Thomas the chap who played mellors in the seventies? I think he lives in the next hut along

expatmum, you sound surprised dear, you can't have been reading this blog very long :-)

Mopsa, he will always be stripped to the waste chopping wood in my mind dear

Aims, I expect his stuff hasn't got as far as you but he's a bit of a heartthrob, you should see him in his napoleonic gear in 'Sharpe', sigh

Rob, ah nyes, I often fondly reminisce about my school statigraphy, sigh

mother at large, bloody hell, I'm off to the newsagent...

lady thinker said...

I agree 100% - Sean Bean much better than any frenchman any day. I just about kept up with all those frenchie expressions - are you trying to go upmarket Rilly?

Oh Sharpe - sigh ... sigh