There’s an old joke. Goes like this:

so God made all the countries and as he was naming them he said, ‘well this country really does have it all. Its big, its beautiful, wonderfully fertile, has the Alps, the Pyrenees, hundreds of miles of stunning coastline and amazing (even by my standards, not willing to be immodest) beaches. Yes, it has it all. And its so perfect that I feel we must do something to counteract all that splendour. So we’ll fill it with French people. That’ll scare ’em off.’

And if a France lover is a francophile, and a french hater is a fracophobe, what do you call someone who adores France but hates the French (and remember, most actresses and the really really beautiful don’t really count as ‘French’, look; I don’t make the rules)??? You call such a person ‘normal’. Decent. Nice. You call him ‘me’.

We arrived early yesterday morning at Montpellier Airport Mediteranienne (see; they sound fucking pretentious even when they’re being normal) having taken off from Luton Vauxhall Nova Shithole Airport (London???) so early we’d barely gone to bed the night before. Or so it felt. As we drove in the drizzle.

Montpellier was immediately hot, sunny, and, even upon first glance (though we’ve been here many times) nicer than even Luton. Our lovely friends picked us up and took us directement to the beach at La Grande Motte. A quirky and wonderful place built as a testament to the potency of drugs in the late 60s and early 70s when the area was designed and constructed. Its filled with medium-rise buildings most of which are asymetrical. And I love it. When I first went there in about 1980 its the kind of place that jars when you look at it. Almost hurts your eyes. And yet with longer perusal (or stonger drugs/alcohol) you start to ‘get it’. And then the aesthetic softens and becomes a thing of beauty. In a quasi-ugly way. Bit like me.

Our friends have lived here, among the heathen, for 25 years. They have a lovely life. Their children are mainly French yet remain passionately English, particularly during sporting events. And yet even here, hundreds of miles away from the known bastards (in any language) of Paris, they find ‘the French’ difficult to live with at times. Even these nice, provincial, middle-class types down here. Pigs in lipstick, education on a Frenchman, plus ca change.

Everton 3, Chelsea 6!!!!!! Holy shi-ite. As they say in Iran, but not for much longer in Syria or Iraq.
Almost as profound is Burnley 0, Manchester United 0.
But most amazing of all: Manchester City (who never lose at home, haven’t gone goalless in 637 matches, etc, etc) 0, Stoke City (havne’t won at City since before the Boer War, never score a goal in any competitive matches, can’t hit a barn door from 2 fucking yards) 1. And Swansea are top of the league, or would be if they were called Aswansea.

Bon dimanche

A xxxx