After an extraordinarily busy, but predictably frustrating day dealing with French bureaucracy, I thought I'd be happy to let the great bloody steak debate continue in the comments field of my last posting without feeling obliged to dream up something new.
But I could not let this related thought pass.
Back in County Durham, a young reporter took out his new girlfriend, a French au pair, on one of their first dates, for a meal.
Remembering how she would place her order in France, and translating literally, la jeune Sarthoise said something along the lines of: "Can I have a bloody steak?"
To which, I swear to this day, the waiter replied: "Aye, and I suppose you want some frigging chips an' all."
Back on Sunday, in more serious vein.
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