The Love Letter.

Feeling loved and to love is probably the thing that shake me the most, that I’m always running after and running away at the same time. A bit like climbing a volcano, do 3 steps forward, but go down of the equivalent of 2 steps because of the sand, sometimes you even fall down big time. It hurts, you’ve got sand in your mouth, you struggle to breathe, sit down for a bit and start climbing again, even if you have a few cuts on your skin. But I don’t think that inconsiderable love and true devotion comes easily, you’ve got to get to the top first. You also need good shoes. Maybe you need to jump once you’re at the top of the volcano, giving yourself is a bit like skydiving, there’s no coming back, just have to hope that the parachute opens.
I have loved in the past, much more than I thought I was able to. I used to hate it, I felt like a children that was trying to run a marathon. But when it stopped after some long years I was sad that the warmth in my heart was gone. As if she had drained everything from me. I didn’t understand really, the confusion was huge, emptiness seems nothing comparing to how I felt.
Life couldn't you just hug me? Let me live. Let me go far away. Let me be near love, game, laughing, tears. Let me be a violin or a voice singing. Let me be a noise. Or simply a fart. Yes I’d fancy being a fart… Which is actually something that most people pretend to despise despite everything that it brings us! Such hypocrisy revolts me. I think that one of  the best feeling ever is when you surprise yourself, some people only have the smell and noise of their farts to surprise themselves (yes some people are sad). It also -sometimes- creates a complicity between two people, because you show that you’re just a human. So instead of spitting on it, become an adept of the dutch oven. Yes yes you’ve heard me.

Let’s get back to the point. I went into a quest of feelings. Touch love but not shake it’s hand was what I used to think when going out. How can I do this?
I could observe other couples that seem tight? Nah that’s just good for a wank-bank. Kiss a random girl? Nah it won’t work. Show my special skill with my right hand? No.
Hummm.
How about  a letter… yes a letter, a love letter. Let’s do it the old-fashion way. Let’s make the girl believe that I fell in love with her, and maybe her kiss will be like a fireball jumping all around inside my body, it might be a bit mean but you’ve got to break some eggs to make an omelet, I can’t wait to find my eggs, I hope they’ll be from a factory farm that cram egg-laying hens into cages so tiny they can’t even spread their wings. Plus, their neighbours, our dear breeding pigs and veal calves are stuffed into cramped individual cages barely larger than their bodies. They can’t walk or turn around. Those are the best eggs for my letter.
Ouft, I have to write a letter… Never done this before, I should keep it simple, something brief, a note that I can give her.
So I take 5 minutes to write this that will stay in my pocket:
“I want to have you in my arms as you fall asleep –tonight- hold you tight while whispering in your ear how pulchritudinous you are, i miss your smell already.”
Yes, perfect, she probably won’t know what that word means, so she’ll ask me, I’ll tell her, she’ll kiss me.
I luckily meet the perfect potential partner at some party, I gave her the note earlier in the night and I manage to end up alone with her, we’re about to kiss.
 I look at her, it’s as if we both don’t think about anything, the music seems far away, I stroke her hair, I slowly turn it back behind her ears, I walk toward her by putting my hands on her neck. I kiss her gently, taking her upper lip between mine, I look at her briefly without moving, her eyes are closed, she’s waiting for the kiss to continue, god she’s beautiful. After a few tens of second, when she feels ready, we open our mouth, letting our tongues meet, her delicacy is delightful, it’s warm, the movements are the most sexual thing ever and the most tender at the same time, there is a perfect harmony,  I’m shivering of pleasure, we’re both becoming a bit clumsy, we lose concentration because of how good it was, as if there is too much intensity in the kiss. I feel satisfied. She kissed me as if she loved me, I did the same, forcing me at first, it then became natural. I slowly stop the kiss.
 I sigh. I’m happy for a brief moment then realize that I now have to get rid of her. Nothing comes to my head, I’m still a bit under the effect of that kiss. The only thing that comes to my mind is with a wry smile on my face: “What did you eat before?” Her teeth are impeccable, and so was her breath but I had to find something… I know it’s pretty bad, but at least next time I’ll see her (because Glasgow is fairly small) she won’t talk to me.
So I leave, well she left before, looking very shocked. As I leave I realize that I’m more in love with the idea of love rather than love itself. Am I an idealistic? Well that sucks… At least I was satisfied for the night, I don’t regret what I did, I kept saying merci slowly as I was walking away in the dark street, maybe some day you’ll understand. And I fart.

The Rules.

The embrace of the dark, feeling like shit is probably the best feeling ever, it’s always something that i avoid but also research, something that has been stalking me my all life, i feel i can’t live without it, very similar to your first love, it’s there, wherever you’re going, you can see some signs of it, you try to ignore it sometimes but it becomes impossible to the point where you just have to embrace it.

The fact that you can realise what you’re avoiding makes you stronger, a bit cliché indeed, i feel like i’m quoting spiderman, but hey some of my readers are brainless useless waste of mother nature so i have to entertain them even if they send me messages like «  You’re a fucking cunt » Well, someday i’ll find you and we’ll see who’s the cunt.

After all, before being at the top, you have to seduce the mass, which is more easy that one might think, basically, have a look and be able to talk about what matters to those people, and they’ll think that you’re a godsend, if you’re good at it. The Art of mass manipulation is something that you can’t take lightly. You can notice i’ve put an A at the « art » to show my respect to it. Some incredible artists have been living in the past but didn’t have a clue when it comes to sell yourself, some were talentless fuckers but knew.
Even nowaday as you’re reading, there is an artist who didn’t eat for 2 days because he’s living his art too fully, lost in his madness which was at first his only way to avoid his harrowing sensibilty. With times it became without him realising, his own tomb.

That’s when i come in, if you’re an artist (or pretty much everything) but you’re a talentless fucker when it comes to you, well that article is for you !

Be tall, beautiful and slim.

Yes i know that sounds pretty bad, but it has been proven that tall people are seen as more intelligent people ( how sad are we), they are paid better as well, so don’t be afraid to wear heels, even if you’re a guy, i myself am 1m74 but with heels, and my big hair, some people have thought in the past that i was at the very least 1m80 (people exaggerate a lot, probably because we’re just bored of our own existence, nothing else to say). Some famous people are the same size, but because they’re known, we think that they’re taller. If you’re very small, well go fuck yourself and die alone. Or become a tyran, that’s an other story.

Be beautiful… humm… Well i can’t help you here, sorry mate.

Actually for guys it’s easier, we’ll always be more remembered by our personnality than our physique, for girls, go to the bank, ask for money pretending that you’re going to open a business about feeding sheeps, get the money and redo your face, or have a diet, become skinny and you’ll be hot…

Be slim.

Take drugs. Or become poor. Or go live in Africa.

Be class !

Yes style is very important ! If you have a slipknot or nirvana t-shirt, maybe it’s time to put it in the bin and take a shit on it. Be elegant, and instead of looking like someone, look like yourself. Look at Serge Gainsbourg, he wasn’t the kind of guy where his ugliness could be discussed, he was ugly. But he had a face, i myself have a broken tooth because of a fight, i show it with pride, it’s part of my history. It’s what we call « It gives you character ! ». They usually say this to make you feel better, but hipocrisy’s good. Girls like faces that have a story, unlike guys that prefer a doll-face on girls.
 And after all, you have a face, a body, stop moaning about it, it’s a waste of time and even more narcissistic than me, so love yourself and maybe you’ll be able to love other people.

Wear glasses. Yeah that works pretty well, the bigger the frame, the higher your IQ will be to them. If you’re already smart, why not look even smarter ? I don’t know any person that is smart enough so go for it.
 Less is more… Fuck that, more is more. We’re in the 21 century. Look at Lady gaga, she loves meat. The earth don’t have long to live so give it some memories. ( Nah i don’t believe in 2012, i can’t wait to open a bottle of champagne that day, and shake it on people face’s, Formula 1 style. It’s obviously the perfect image of what a man should be. « Look at my cum ! It’s all over your face ! I’m such a man ! » )

Talk loudly and fast.

Apparently, the faster we talk, the faster our brain is suppose to work. It has been proven that people with fast handwriting are smarter, so forget your school handwriting, make it your own !
I myself have worked a lot on it. I have the most beautiful handwriting i’ve ever seen, because it’s esthetically nice to the eye but you can see my personnality through it, every line that i write is for me a confession, i feel at one with myself, it’s probably my favourite hobby, just so i can see me, in the past i've written the same word more than a hundred time in a row while observing the shape of the lines, an exquisite moment. The mirror shows me fuck all.
 Let it go without thinking of people not being able to understand it, if you’re important enough, believe me, they’ll make an effort.
Studying of handwriting used to be my obsession at the age of 13, then i discovered body language... If you can’t talk very fast for some reason, compensate with a rich body language and a gaze that would be able to stab someone’s soul through the eyes, i don’t want to tell you how to have this gaze. It took me years to be able to have, at my will, a powerful, intense gaze, you wouldn’t believe how easy it is to do.
  
People who talk loudly are seen as smarter, don’t talk in your beard, it inspires diarrhea coming out from an hemorroides-arse. Not something that you want. So express yourself ! That guy that you think is fucking cool and you wish to be him, well first ask him a fag (because you only have to idealize people that are « touchable » if i may say, not a celebrity. That’s just sad.) It’s important to have someone to look up to, it brings you up, age has nothing to do with it, people who might be tempted to say that after a while you're "mature" so you don't have to do all that shit, well go fuck yourself, how pretentious would it be to say that i can’t get better anymore? 
 There are lots of fascinating people living amoung us, make an effort to meet them, but avoid the cunts as you’re doing it.
 I am looking up to someone, probably not in the area that you think.

We only live 80years for the lucky ones, it's very short, there is no after life, we're nothing, why would we "stay" when dead? How do i know? Let's say that when i'll die, i'll be able to say i've lived my life and if reborn in a cat i'll say fair enough.
I'd be pretty pissed off to be reborn in a cow or whatever. If i'm wrong... I'll kiss your feet in front of everyone.
 
Have a destructive laugh!

Yes ! We can tell so much by the laugh of someone, it can give so much energy to someone else, or communicate a certain state of mind. I myself adapt my laugh according with who i am, it became natural, instinctif, a very animal thing to do. I’m like a wild lion that will roar louder in front of an elephant than if i was in front of a cat, actually i’d probably just take a piss on the cat. Basically adapt your laugh to the image that you want to give, while keeping in mind that your hand shouldn’t get in front of your mouth as you laugh, the sound should be a tinsel.

Have a good body language.

That’s the hardest, as it’s very hard to control and will take you time. I’m not telling you to look like Brap Pitt in Fight Club, it’s a movie. Some people are able to identify themselves to a character in a movie, it’s easy to spot them, they’re usually charismatic for a short amount of time, and then when out of their comfort zone, their shyness take over and they look like an animal that hasn’t been fed by mummy. They’re my favorite victims.
I strongly believe that people who have a too « charismatic » body language at first are people who used to identify themselves with someone of a movie or someone that they used to look up to (therefore not the real person) and became something that they see as « it » but became victim of their own ego and can’t get out of it. They might look amazing, but how can you look so different whe you grew up in a normal environment? Only the dreams took you where you are. If you fake something with conviction, it can become you. That’s the bottom of the bottom, the depression will never be far. Haha, you deserve it dickhead.Or not!


Only when you’ll know how to do all this and use it on people, you’ll become yourself. It’s not necessarily worth it, but it can be.

People make you. So never be ashamed when on your own to dance like a moron on britney spears, or look at yourself in the mirror while doing some weird faces or shoving your fingers up your nose and shouting like a new-born, doing private jokes, when masturbating yourself, or whatever you do on your own, because that’s you being beautiful. Just keep it for yourself… Y’ know ?!

Go buy yourself some chocolate now, it’s good for you.

A French In Glasgow. Party 3/3

I sit next to her, her perfume is amazing, i recognize it in a second, it’s Tom Ford tobacco vanilla, but she’s been sweating so the smell is a bit bitter. She could have shaved her armpits better than that but I’m used to it. In France every girl have a forest as an armpit, a bit like the Amazonia, very humid and full of unknown plants. I used to be proper disgusted by even half of a millimeter of hair in the armpit. Now I don’t really care, I guess I’m changing. Thank fuck.
Okay here is one of the rule when you talk to a girl. Sexualize the conversation! The number of guys I’ve seen who go talk to a girl that they like but only talk about… I don’t know, they just don’t know how to talk! Girls first come by what they hear, they’ll know how you fuck according to how you talk. So articulate, never underestimate the power of words, it’s the most beautiful thing on earth, so cherish it, it opens so many doors, especially the one that you want to open.
A good way to charm people as well, very good to do in a seduction mode, is to use lots of metaphor, because it makes the imagination of the person work, if you say. “I get it” it won’t have the same effect as “It’s as clear as a deep blue sky of winter” Because they will see that sky. Told you! Never underestimate words! I have lots of other secret that I may or may not give to ya… Depends of my mood.
As I do all this, I started to talk to the girl, as usual I pretend to be fairly naïve. My head is slightly tilted to the left, in order to not look to rigid, if it’s tilted on the right the effect won’t be same, it’s not the desired effect right now. My legs are crossed, a guy is comfortable when the right leg is on top of the left, for the girls it’s the contrary, that’s why I approach them as if they are some unknown object. Because they are.
 But we are to them as well, and this is a message to girls; we( guys) are more complex that you might think, we don’t think with our cock, but if you want to understand us. Picture an elastic that represent the interest of the guy. You pull it at both extremity and then let one of the extremity go. But then you start again. That’s how we work. That explains our “He didn’t text me for a week now!” So stop panicking, texting us and have meeting with your girl friends where you talk shit for hours, instead play the game, be a femme fatale, keep your frustration for something more productive, let us come back to you, we’ll be very likely to be a sweetheart. But hey if you don’t swallow, that might be another reason. And sleeping with another girl is not cheating, it’s comparing. It’s not just about you.
Let’s get back to the story, I don’t hesitate to ask :” What is this?” because showing that you accept that you don’t know something is endearing. I’m also lucky to be a very curious person and pretty much everything interest me and fascinate me, I guess on my own I’d be jumping in the grass naked making up songs about love while drawing an apple, but people made me become who I am, very French (Woo didn’t mention the fact that I’m French for a long time, what’s wrong with me?!) and borderline sociopaths when it comes to try to interact and understand people. I thank you.

The girl is being very nice, I’m enjoying myself, she’s actually lovely, I’d smash her back doors in. But I suddenly notice that she’s got a ring on her right index and on the ring finger, right index being the image of the father, ring finger symbol of love, and she keeps playing with them. I ask her innocently if she chooses to put those rings on those fingers, she says yes, they’re always on those fingers.
Fuck, the girl is in love with her father, I can picture her as a child on her daddy’s lap being the happiest girl in the world. Guys will never be good enough for her, she’ll always compare them to daddy, she’s the worst of a kind. She thinks that daddy is the prince, she had too many slutty Barbie as child, result she’s a lost idealistic bitch who in her fall is taking guys with her because she can’t face the reality. But something doesn’t seem right to me.
I ask her to describe her dad to me, out of nowhere, her reaction shows that I touched a nerve, it’s as if I just emotionally raped her, I just touched the untouchable, plus she’s drunk so she’s even more emotive than usual. We start talking about it, after a while, she finally tells me that she found out that her dad cheated on her mum, it all seems contradictory right now, funnily enough she keeps moving her ring of her finger. Poor girl, the man of her life, her first male model suddenly becomes a cunt. Imagine the confusion in her head.
She tells me it’s the first time that she tells someone because she feels “ashamed” but she’ll be fine now, something of your past becomes a problem only when you don’t talk about it, keep it for yourself and bury it in the dark region of your heart. I suddenly get very bored of her, I’m not sexually nor mentally stimulated by her anymore, complete lost of interest. So I leave, because I need to,  before the interest leaves me.

THE END.

A French In Glasgow. Australia dannae want me!

Big news today. I find out that i’m going to be an uncle tomorrow which is kinda exciting because I can be involved if I want to, but I can decide to not be involved, so I can experiment and see how I’ll react to a baby.
I’m planning to do some experiment on that innocent baby. Babies are born with personalities, I can’t wait to observe him before he finds out about all the social codes, I’ll speak to him in English only so he’ll be bilingual.
I wonder what kind of uncle I will be, ultimately I’m also thinking what kind of dad I’ll be some day, scary thought. I’d rather be a mum just so I could give birth to the baby, I find it fascinating, and painfully beautiful.
But let’s get to the main thing that is making my day more delicious than yesterday.
IVE BEEN BANNED FROM AUSTRALIA!!
"Sites that depict or gradually describe sexual acts or activity including exhibitionism, also sites offering direct links to such sites." We see porn every day on TV,  adverts about L'oréal are more exciting and evocative than a streap-teaseur.
Yes, viddy again what you’ve just read! They can’t have access to my blog, I guess France is too cool for them, we are known for being comfortable with our sexuality, that it can shock some English-speaking people but I didn’t know that Australians were such stuck-up, Fosters beer, good call my ass.
talking about ass, it reminds me this time of a sweet one-night-stand where I pretended to be called Oscar for the whole night, because of how much I like Oscar Wilde, and the girl believed me, of course, why would she be suspicious?
 And after she would struggle to find me on facebook so everything’s going well so far. After a few drinks, we’re going back to her’s, have sex (Fuck you Australia) and in the middle of it she shouted” AU SECOUUURS!!!” Which means HELP! In French… I thought she was trying to tell me that she was into some kind of sado-maso thing and wanted to role-play so I pushed her against the wall, grabbed her hair and pulled it back quite strongly, she slapped me, I thought wow she’s really going for it.
And she shouted : “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU????!!!”  Slapped me again and kicked me out before I could even say something.
I then realized that she wasn’t shouting AU SECOURS but OSCAR… My “name” of the night.
 So now my one night stand name is François. I plan to call my future son François actually.
I’m having such a nice day.

A French in Glasgow. Party 2/3

Amazing, i know the host. I actually enjoy the company of this last one, I could easily tolerate a conversation with him. I give him a hug while smiling as I turn off my phone discreetly. I do one step in but I’m still looking at him. Important to say that I didn’t say a word, I only used my facial expressions and eyes to make him understand how I feel. It’s a very good thing to do that could take you far because for some reason, when doing this, it creates some kind of trust between two person as if you just signed a pact of brotherhood.
The person will be convinced that he “gets” you.
Haha…


So, I’m giving him a frown of the eyebrows and point to him with my eyes the ones behind me, making him understand that they’re heavily annoying a bit like this facebook friend that like all your photos when you wish the pretty brunette would do it (I’m talking for your case here dear reader, the brunette do like my photos).
I walk in as if I’m suddenly in a hurry, because I am; I’m going as far away as possible from the main door, the best is always the toilet because you can lock the door, so when the host is telling them:” Sorry, I don’t know you, you can’t come in.” and that they’re shouting “YOANN!”. Well, I’m simply not there.
The door is now closed with the loosers outside. My phone is off so they can’t contact me.  Next time I’ll see them I’ll just tell them how upset I was that they decided to go somewhere else without telling me… snifling snifling bouhouing.

My state of mind at this moment is the following one, I plan to be aggressively nice with people, especially the ones that I can take something from. So I put myself in Charming-mode, I came up with a technique that works wonders! Everytime that you talk to someone, change their appearances in your head.  If you’re a visual, change the blond girl into a baldy, if you’re an emotional, change the blond girl into a starving cat, if you’re more of an auditory person, change her delicate voice into a husky-smokey voice.
By doing this, it will make you do a very unique smile that people always react greatly too, you basically look very present, and in the moment.



The action of trying to make your eyes smaller as you smile will also help, it gives what we call the “chinese eyes”, it’s a very reassuring gaze.
I notice straight away the people that interest me but before I go talk to them, unfortunately, one of the rules is that you will always go please the ladies first in the party, by please I don’t mean anything sexual - yet, but let’s say that if they congratulate you by clapping their hands, guys will then follow, even if the heart isn’t there. You might get some resistance sometimes, but I usually just ignore those ones.
I also have another great skill which is being able to smell when girls have their periods, very handy for a dandy in a party.

I start making up a story to a girl saying that once I was walking on the street, I stopped to light a fag, then a kid saw me, stared at me for a long time and asked his mum if I was God.
 She knows I’m talking shit, and I know it as well of course, but she thinks that I think that she believes me, but I know that she doesn’t. She thinks she’s the smart one, but I’m simply laughing out loud inside myself. Don’t you find it hilarious? It’s euphoric for me, I like to compare it to the tender moment that is when you kiss the neck of a girl for the first time, that you’ve been stalking for 2 months before, or also similar to a massive punch in the face.
It’s important to play on your image, use gimmicks, because if you don’t create them, people will create them for you and you don’t want that. If people are able to do a caricature of you in a second, that means you’ve got a strong visual image, well done. Only a sad fucker would underestimate this fact.
Even Jean Cocteau said: “Ce que le public te reproche, cultive le c’est toi.” I’ll let you translate, only the ones who bother deserve to know what it means.
I’ve always played on the fact that I’m French, wearing a stripy t-shirt, smoking strong cigarettes, shouting “Merde!” every now and again to remind people how lucky they are to be in the presence of a true French.
 Being arrogant, passionate,  unpredictable, having a greasy laugh that comes from the throat, being original but serious.
You probably thought I was describing you the typical behavior of a French. No. I was simply giving you some characteristics that one can have. Because this is my problem, in a party, whatever I will do people will tell me how French I am.
Action of laughing – “Hahaha! You’re so French! Baguette!”
Action of putting my finger in my nose – “Hahaha! You’re so French! You like snails?”
Action of talking to a girl –“ Hahaha! You’re so French! Frog’s legs?”
Action of being moody – “Hahaha! You’re so French! I only know the cheese cheddar.”
Action of standing in front of the window looking at the rain – “Hahaha! You’re so French! Bonjour!”
Action of kissing a girl – “Hahaha! SoOOOooOOooOooooo French!!!!! Wanna Fuck?”
Action of kissing a guy – “ Hahaha! You’re so Fr… Oh wait what the fuck was that? Weirdo.”
Once I was actually just being sick in the toilet with my head deep in it, trainspotting-style and I overheard someone walking in, grinning, and closing the door while saying to himself :” So French.” I didn’t know if my tears were here because I was laughing to that or if it was the fact that I was being sick, whatever it was, I liked being in that situation, being miserable is the only time that you’re true to yourself, there’s a feeling of letting it all out, quite literally for sure but metaphorically as well.

Right, let’s get back to the point, I’m in this party, I notice a girl that is let’s face it not sober at all, but  she’s a babe, I start walking toward her…

TO BE CONTINUED…



The amount of views is growing massively every day, it’s surprising, but not really, I knew it would happen. Thanks for reading anyway my love.


Unlike this guy who’s turning bald, so he wears a hat all the time, and compensate with a bit of stuble but don’t get that he should just shave all his head and look suave; who’s saying how incredible dubstep is with his joint in his mouth. He probably wish he had some massive dreadlocks, he would fit in more easily that’s for sure.

Need to get rid of the others… Just keep calm and follow the code.

A French in Glasgow. Party 1/3

If you’re French and end up in Glasgow, at some point in your journey, you will end up in parties, some will be horrible, you’ll just be bored out of your face but for some reason you won’t move, find an other rat ( that’s how I call them, because they sit in a corner with a face that inspire pity and a tendency for self-destruction.) and stay with this last one.
Some parties will be the best memories of your life, so good that you will think to yourself as you see your dad :” How the fuck do I come from your balls?”




 You will also stare the tummy of your mum picturing yourself when you were in it thinking: “Something went wrong in here…”


Parties can be sometime a long and draining process because before you have to GET TO the party.
It’s the most tricky part, basically no-one knows but everyone knows. You have to pick your good partner in crime for this part, that’s why the get-to-the-party-thinking-process usually starts at 2:45 am for the normal human being.
At this point, you usually remember that you told yourself and your friends in a pseudo-convincing way that tonight is just going to be a quiet one. It’s now 3 am, you’re out of your tits and you keep shouting: ”Taps aff!  Tits oot!” as if it’s the end of the world.


But let’s not forget the point of this text, I’m not going to describe you the average night out, no no, but the night through the eyes of a French man who let’s face it,  is very French…
Let’s pretend that we managed to find out where the party is after a good half hour. After having at least ten people spitting in your face asking: “Fucking Frenchyyyy!!! What ye up tae?” I was tempted to answer many times:  Sorry i only speak French and English, maybe if you write your sentence on a piece of paper I could ask the big issue guy to translate it for me.
 Instead I would say with nonchalance that I had no idea what I would do next, even  if I knew, or shall I say especially if I knew! Only because looking at a drunk feeling lonely in front of a club can be the highlight of my night.

 Here comes my favorite part, the waiting is killing you, you’re in front of a flat, with a bunch of people. I don’t like most of them, but of course they love me (Because I’m a FROG!!!).  I had to use those people to get a taxi because I have the power to always be skint. Never underestimate people you don’t like. May as well put them in your pocket instead of putting them on your back, could be the philosophy of the day. Do I sound like a cunt?
But it’s also important to have enemies, it builds your charisma when you’re in a party, and say how much you hate the way they dress and that they got fat. I do sound like a cunt.


So we start walking to the top floor, because yes, most parties are at the top floor (it seems to be a curse).  It’s the same feeling as Christmas, you’re excited, you’ve lost patience and you will know in a matter of seconds if Santa came by or if you actually became Jew whilst walking up the stairs, therefore Hanukkah came by, so no present.

If you’re lucky, you’ll know the host, if not, do like me. Put on your nice face, very easy thing to do. You have to pretend that you’re a children again, instantly, your gaze will be more naïve looking, and very endearing because you’ll start looking at things as if it’s the first time that you’ve seen it.
The door handle will suddenly be fascinating, and the lack of harmony of your friend’s moustache will become obvious.  It works every time, if you push this technique too far, you might look drunk or fucked, so be subtle.
The door is now opening…

TO BE CONTINUED…


A French in Glasgow.

A night out for a French in the heart of Glasgow is always a mission, not because of neds kicking about throwing buckfast on each other’s head(we all love a cliché), but because of the smoking area.
Yes the smoking area in a club, bar or even in front of a kebab-shop where you look at the pakora with disgust telling people how unhealthy it is (I’m French, I have to be snobby about food, even if I was eating pot-noodles every day, but you don’t say this to people of course. Vava-voom).
-Coming into the smoking area-


I realize that I forgot my lighter, so I sing La Marseillaise to myself to give me strength.
Now I have to pick who I’m going to ask for it, I may as well pick a girl, after all I’m a sleazy bastard. There is one with the short shirt, orange skin, and she’s barefoot because she can’t walk 2 miles with high-heels. Have some dignity bitch; are the sweet words coming to me head.
Or the arty one, that looks like Tim Burton just came by and drew her, only he had to hurry up because he just had a cigarette and coffee beforehand so mother nature was calling for him. Is she going to stab me or rape me or hug me?.
I have to think fast if I don’t want someone else to talk to me that I didn’t pick which is the worth case scenario. Ok I’ll go for the weird one. It's gorgeousness in itself.



Me: “-Excuse me, have you got a lighter please?
Girl -Oh my god! are you French?!             (Why is it so impressive? We’re all racist and stink of cheese)
Me: -Yes, have you got a…                        
Girl: -BoNNnjour, je m’appelle Kate                 (I never asked for your name…)
Me:- Nice to meet you, have y…”

And at this point, the worst happen they usually don’t know French but will still try to impress me by speaking the few words they know in French, or maybe they’re just taking the piss, in both case it’s not an inspiring moment.
Girl: « - La baignoire de la cuisine est tombe dans mon petit poisson qui bonsoir. »
A translation is needed : The bath of the kitchen fell down in my small fish who’s good night.
I’ve actually heard this before. And then she looks at me as if I’m supposed to shout Bravo! Encore! Let’s have a riot to show the world how amazing you are!
So after this, like any good citizen, I congratulate her effort by using positive body language like laughing, smiling and even sometimes walking away.
I  then ask if she has a lighter again, but she wants to know where I’m from as if once I said where I’m from she will know where it is, I could have smoked the equivalent of my whole packet by now if she would have give it to me at the beginning, what a slut.
Then she tells me she’s been to Paris… Wahou good for you my dear, I really couldn’t care less and she then says how unfriendly and rude we can be… Well no surprise, you’re a pain in the arse, you’re not even listening what I’m saying, just waiting for your turn to speak.
Me:- “ Haha yeah I know, we can be a bit rude, but it’s just a façade really, you know the education in france is very differ…
Girl:- I knooooOoowwww, you guys are like… dickheads all the time.” As she says this, she looks at me as if she just quoted Freud and wait for my turn to write a dissertation about that deep, touching and meaningful observation.

But everything’s fine, she’s now saying how she loves fashion, I genuinely wonder how she can say this when she looks like she’s been in a cat fight but then decided it’s cool to look fucked-up. She says she’s seen Karl Lagerfeld just walking in the street of Paris… My bullshit meter is reading that as a false, the guy can’t go out without at least 10 bodyguards, I picture a sweet image in my head of all those bodyguards beating her up, awwww J.


Her bad breath of alcohol grabs me back into reality because yeah, she is at about 8 cm from my nose and I can see some suspicious white powder in her nose, she was probably cooking some bread.
Oh zut alors! She’s taking her lighter out! She’s about to have a cigarette! I jump on the opportunity and ask her for it, she says yes, gives it to me, I take the best draw of the night and straight after this try to find a way how to run away from that charming girl.
So I put on a wee smile on my face, a kind of rictus, the kind of rictus that says I’ve been with you for 5 month but I’m actually a sex addict and your cat is becoming more and more appealing. Put my hand on her shoulder,  and articulate with great care the following sentence. Will you give me a blow-job and then we can do the old in-out in-out?
 So she goes away annoyed while shouting some words that don’t put me in my best light.
. Aaaaaaaaaaaaahh  at last she’s gone! I feel so good alone, and I start walking toward the kebab shop to get a pakora.
THE END

Morality: French guys are not sleazy for the sake of being sleazy, it’s just a good way to make girls run away.
See you soon.

Malcolm McDowell Clockwork Orange- Orange mecanique