No freakin' Ikea

(Looking doubtfully at a pile of parts for an elderly, flat-pack chest of drawers)

Sardine: Are there any instructions for this, or is it just freestyle?

Mercury rising..maybe not

Suave Frenchy: Do you want to hear a joke?
Me: Always.
SF: In France this summer, the only way you are going to see a thermometer showing at least 37 degrees is by sticking it up your a**e.

On the tiles

(In le petit coin/the smallest corner)

French tiler: What do you do when you are on the toilet?
Me (thinks: God, the French can be so direct at times): um, er, well...you know, same as everyone...er (shuffles feet, looks at floor, embarrassed)
FT: no, no, NO. Not THAT. I mean you look at the FLOOR. That is why tiling the toilet floor is an exacting job, because people stare at it a lot.
Me (faintly): Oh, I see.
FT: I know what people do on the toilet. I don't need to ask, you know. Oh là, là.

La Dame de Fer

Suave Frenchy (placing his hand on my arm and looking deeply into my eyes in what I can only imagine is an attempt at empathy): Hay am really sorree about Ze Hi-ron Laydee-uh.

Milk-shakey

In the kitchen, calmly unpacking the shopping, I have just put the carton of milk beside the tap and the washing-up liquid in the fridge.

My question is, why do I never do this in any useful way? Eg putting the 48-page article about the structural implications of the decline of liberal internationalism in the fridge and the large box of Magnum ice lollies next to me on the sofa? Why?

Tooth or consequences

French Dentist: You will need to be careful with your diet for a few days, so steamed asparagus, poached fish or grilled chicken instead of red meat.
Me (painfully):ok.
FD: And as for the aperitif, no red wine, only white wine or champagne.
Me (wincing): Not applicable, to be honest. What about Coca-cola?
FD: No. And no coffee either. You can have the occasional tea, but only through a straw.
Me (thinks ruefully): You would never get a foody talking-to like this in the UK.

Something fishy

\(On metro)

Small person (pipes up): What is this station called?
Mother: Sans Souci.
SP: Sans Sushi?

Meek Shagger

(just heard this on French radio)

Presenter: So, you and Davvid Cammerron, you are a beet like Kees Reechar and Meek Shagger, no?
Boris Johnson: No. We are more like Wallace and Gromeet.

Boots on the ground

(struggling through a very snowy Brussels on way to conference)

Fellow journalist (Spanish): Holy communion wafers! Last time I wore these boots, I was covering the war in Bosnia!

Infidelity card

(queuing at till in hypermarket)

Lady behind till: Do you have a fidelity card?
Man in front of me: No.
Me (chirps up, despite knowing that remaining silent is always the best option): I have! (waves card)
LBT (laughing): No, sorry, it has to be him.
MIFOM: I am afraid I am completely infidele (gently places hand on top of mine on belt and looks soulfully into my eyes)..but only when it comes to shopping, that is....



(Translation note: Fidelity card means store loyalty card in the UK)