france

Unsurprisingly, the inspiration for this one was a holiday in the South of France. I was simply in awe of the local ladies – they seemed a different species to sweaty, bedraggled me. You can see in my little thumbnail here, which was taken in Nimes, the elegance of me compared to the elegance of the lovely, composed lady posing for a photo behind me.

One day at the beach, there was one particular, very beautiful lady who sat down on a low wall which surrounded the beach – a wall that must have been covered in sand – wearing a white linen dress. When she arose, the dress remained both unstained and uncrinkled.

At that point, I knew something had to be done. And I did it via the medium of humorous poetry. Take that, immaculate lovely French ladies.

A plea to the ladies of France

On the South Coast of France,

We Brits love a chance

To enjoy all the sunshine and class,

But, dear French ladies, please,

While we’re loving your cheese,

There’s a few things we’d just like to ask.

First, please could you get

Up a bit of a sweat,

As we Brits dissolve into a mess?

In the blazing hot weather,

Don’t your thighs stick together,

Beneath that divine, skimpy dress?

Now, a week in a cossie

Surrounded by mozzies

Will get a Brit frantically scratching,

So please could you show –

Even just on one toe –

Some signs of allergic reaction?

Your clothes should be shabby,

Your mood must be crabby,

Your tops must have underarm tidemarks,

Your man should be chubby,

Your children quite grubby,

Your clothing should all be from Primark.

Just these few little tweaks,

And we’ll feel magnifique,

As we come, pink and sweaty and bitten

To the beautiful shores

of the grand Cote d’Azur –

Yours faithfully,

Women of Britain.

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