:: Gloat Over ::

So now it's back to the grindstone, the cheerless London wind biting at my heels and only a blur of memories and a bloated stomach to remind me of a paradisal week en France. Soon to return to New York, Bezuhoff is conducting a farewell perfomance on Saturday and then the festivities really will be over. I didn't take any photos, having now turned into a complete camera-phobe, so my memories are mostly verbal. In no particular order, here's a list of key phrases from our time away:

  • le coq sportif - a symbol of French manliness and sporting prowess.
  • le caca-boudin - a reference to the many dog eggs adorning the pavements of the French capital.
  • cunt soup (potage aux cons) - Devukha-speak for large gaggles of tourists, shoppers and gawkers on the streets of any major metropolis. Also refers to the queue to go up the Eiffel Tower.
  • Je voudrais le menu tartare... - dietary advice for the strong of stomach. Having enjoyed Steak Tartare at the inimitable Brasserie Lipp, I subsequently went on to have tartares of salmon and tuna in other establishments.
  • Fancy a Frisk? - when breath requires freshening, what better than Belgium's finest?
  • S'astiquer le poireau - indispensible advice for those wishing to hone their French culinary techniques.
  • Un pebbledash de petits pois... sur les spectateurs en baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas - from a memorable description of the Pope's visit to Paris featured in On The Hour. French super-DJ Jacques Oeuf got rather excited at Il Papa's projectile pronouncements.
  • January, February, I don't understand... and then I fuck your sister - a tender ballad from the pages of Modern Toss. Another example of the authors' artistry may be seen here.

So that's your lot. On the home front, Hyp's had a revamp, but more on that after the weekend.