You are reading a single comment by @deleted and its replies.
Click here to read the full conversation.
London Fixed Gear and Single-Speed is a community of predominantly fixed gear and single-speed cyclists in and around London, UK.
This site is supported almost exclusively by donations. Please consider donating a small amount regularly.
@deleted
From mosquitos to a totally new, if less virile probem: francophonicus horriblus.
Characterised by lavender-scented, unblemished hands due to their lack of utility or employment beyond extending an open hand, these awkward and vociferous mammals are most often seen creeping about in pairs, both in order to have someone else to hear their voice uttering inanities at any and all times of day, and also to ensure there is someone else to argue with and contradict at any given moment.
Given the opportunity of an audience they also find it comforting to have a friendly voice on hand to support them in whatever fantastically witty observation of insightful criticism they make, whilst also agreeing with them when capping off the anecdote with a fascinating account of how much better things are in either Paris or just France as a whole entity. This could be wine, cheese, whisky, sake, vodka, or any other product you may care to mention indigenous to France or not, the courageously unwavering conviction that at some point in history the french either invented it or made it better is always the same. Things are better there, and it is their live's work to make sure everyone else knows it.
The female of the species is mostly there to fulfil domestic duties whilst the male spectates and continues his reassuring criticising and contradictions from afar. Never before has the glorious and rare combination of pasta and unadulterated creme fraiche required so much preparation to be technocratically enticed from packet to plate but you can be sure that when it happens, the male's contribution to the event has been invaluable. When not cooking, she tries desperately to keep up with her male partner's obsessive and heroic pursuit of style perfection. Be it a dusty mocassin or a slightly creased cravate, being a dandy from le '12ieme' requires constant vigilance lest you wake up one day and find yourself looking horribly untidy. Thankfully, this fils-a-papa is unburdened by the requirement to generate his own source of income, and any shortfall between outgoings on vintage underwear and monogrammed handkerchiefs can be made up by stealing other people's salad from the fridge.
Should he have any spare time in his frantic daily routine of dressing, shopping and loafing he uses to work tirelessly upon his repetoire of fey postures and listless sighs, or like jesus illuminating the lives of the poor and ignorant, finds a new audience to practice bestowing upon them the wonderful intricacies of his life story with its kaleidoscope of fantastic and desirous chapitres as he watches them attempt to engage in whatever banality they are obliged to perform to sustain their impoverished existence.
Should you be fortunate enough to cohabit with such a rare and enviously avant garde species, be prepared to repay them for the privilege by religiously cleaning up the traces of their passage, and by religiously keeping them informed of your plans and movements incase they can charitably bestow you with their company and enliven whatever triste spectacle you would have inflicted upon yourself without them. Should you happen to overhear them criticising your inevitably horrible and self centred comportment, be polite enough to pretend that of course it was just a pleasantry designed to further improve your trivial and empty life without them to clean up after or entertain, lest you hurt their feelings.
If anyone can collect from Rotterdam, they're yours and come with a free inner tube wrapped round each of their necks to suspend them with for easy storage.