When life throws you quinces, throw them back and aim for the head.
What? Oh come off it, doofus. (et puis quoi encore, espèce d’andouille?)
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I must be terribly naïve, or a little dim-witted (un peu nunuche) perhaps. I still don’t understand why people google (and several times a day too) the words “kiwi porn”, which in turns brings them to my uncanny fruit post. I mean, it’s pretty damn flattering that I seem to be the world reference on kiwi porn, but who on earth are these people? If you are reading this after More claptrap! (Plus de sornettes!)Read Pork Ragoût With Sage and Beans You try to read books in a New York research library. Frederick the Great’s relationships with his Kapelle musicians have never been so thrilling. And clumps of old men with moustaches (what’s with the moustache, I ask?) and an optional hunch keep chatting loudly right next to you. Inwardly, the teacher in you fulminates - but you can’t, oh you can’t shush them (pas moyen de leur rabattre le caquet). More claptrap! (Plus de sornettes!)Read Bacon Fougasse  |
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