What news from Cannes, my pretties? Well, today I can exclusively reveal I got my first French insult of the holiday. It all happened when I went on a hunt, not for Red October, but for tights. Or collants as they say here. Because round these parts it’s colder than the bedroom of a WAG whose husband has just been given a free transfer to Accrington Stanley,…‘Bonjour madame,’ trilled the stick insect in the lingerie store for hookers as I idly fingered a frilly bra. ‘Vous avez des collants?’ I inquired.
She looked me up and down dismissively. ‘Oui! Quel taille?’ Now, the Fag Hag is no double zero but nor is she a gorilla in the mist. ‘Er, petit?’
Stick insect stared at the Fag Hag rear and wrinkled her smoker’s lines. ‘Petit? Petit? NON! Medium madame!’
Bitch! If I say I’m petit, I’m petit. And if you ever call me medium again I’ll rip out votre head and piss on your brain. Comprenez?