Maybe it’s the dough in the chocolate-covered croissants, maybe it’s the readily available Diptyque candles which are pound-for-Euro this side of La Manche, maybe it’s their penchant for a bidet (we approve, by the way. You can never be too clean. Except OCD Bloke down the gymgaysium who has mysteriously disappeared. Where could he be? Perhaps he scrubbed himself out), but them sporting Frenchies are never knowingly not poised to not only strip down to their lily whites at the drop of a bonnet worn just so, but down to their bare bottoms/derrieres/none-vaginal-fannies. For which we are tres grateful and also, very grateful.
This time, it’s the footballers (world-wide equivalents, take note) who have minimised down to their birthday clobber – post match, like – to get a good old rubbin’ by people who rub naked footballers for a living. How they find time to get the weekly shop is anybody’s business.
The Frenchie footballers in this little clip include one we’ve even heard of. That Thierry Henry. The one getting his butt felt up is called Bixente Lizarazu. The one doing the rubbing will give you a happy finish in return for one lemon and one lime Tic Tac, and the one you can’t see is getting bummed rotten in an Emmanuelle wicker chair.
It’s all very chic.