The French have taught us gastronomy, Gothic architecture, scholasticism, advanced sexual variants, the use of long words that sound weird, tax avoidance, how to stay thin in spite of gorging ourselves (I haven’t learned that particular lesson) and how to sound sophisticated by slipping into the conversation the odd je ne sais quoi or tout court.
They haven’t yet taught us that the ‘s’ is actually pronounced at the end of fleur de lis and coup de grâce but I’m sure they will, given time. It won’t be long before our socially aspiring countrymen will learn that grâce and gras, as in foie gras, sound different in their native habitat.
But I’m relieved to see it hasn’t all been a one-way street (sens unique). The patriot in me rejoices when reading the news of five young Frenchmen arrested for brawling on a London tube train at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve (you can enjoy the action on YouTube). When in England, do as the English do, and all immigrants should learn this time-honoured rule.
Young Brits of either (or, to be more precise, any) sex know exactly what festive occasions are for: you get pissed and, before passing out in your own vomit, start throwing punches or whatever else comes handy: bar stools, trash bins, bottles, caution into the wind. So it’s only polite that young Frenchmen living or visiting here should follow their hosts’ customs – and politesse is after all a traditional French trait.
Moreover, they also learn from us even in their own country. For example, even 10 years ago there were no tattooing and/or piercing parlours in provincial France, but now they are spreading like chanterelles after a summer rain.
Also, French youngsters now routinely get drunk on weekends – and not just on wine. More and more often they fall into alcohol-induced coma after consuming gallons of vile concoctions the Brits have perfected, if not invented.
Good old lager is also becoming a favourite coma-inducer, and it’s good to see that the EU is succeeding in its stated goal of encouraging cultural exchange. A French friend was commiserating the other day about the growing lager consumption in his native land, and he even chuckled politely at my feeble pun ‘à lager comme à lager’.
He was also polite enough not to suggest that the French are picking up English habits, so it fell upon me to elucidate the point.
It has to be said that when I pass a group of French youngsters in our local village, they still say “Bonjour, Monsieur”, rather than an equivalent of “You wha’, mate?”, so cultural exchange isn’t as brisk as all that. Barroso and Rumpy-Pumpy have work to do, but we can rely on them to do it.
My friend José Manuel Barroso, of course, learned all about internationalism during his youth, profitably spent in the Portuguese militant-communist underground. It’s good to have a man like that working tirelessly towards our common goal: thorough elimination of national, cultural, economic and social differences across Europe.
Before long French youngsters, who drop their aitches naturally, will be shouting “On me ‘ead, son” during their kickabouts, while the English will learn how to enunciate “Sur ma tête, mon vieux” or some such.
Meanwhile the French seem to have learned how to get drunk and then brawl on public transport. One step at a time – or une étape à la fois, as the French may or may not say.