If you live in Lille or go there sometimes, this is a new addition to the British community you may run into.
Joe Cole, the former West Ham, Chelsea and now (technically) Liverpool footballer, has gone on loan for a season to Lille, who were last season's French champions.
Football is not really this site's subject area so suffice to say Joe came on as a substitute in a game at Saint-Etienne at the weekend and made an immediate impression with his passing and dribbling technique. The coach Rudi Garcia considers him the most Latin of English players, which is probably meant as a compliment.
But how will Joe and his wife, Carly Zucker, settle into France's fourth largest city (that may be immediately before London, which stands in fifth place in terms of population if my memory is correct)?
Lille has a reputation for superb provincial cuisine, in case the footballer's diet - strictly enforced in France, as are eve-of-match nocturnal activities - permits. Come to that, Carly may have something to say about what they eat, too.
Then there is language. I do not know the city well enough to be sure, but would guess that English is not spoken to a degree that would enable Joe to get by on his native tongue alone.
He reports having already mastered la droite and la gauche, fairly important on the football field and in coming to grips with French politics. that leaves rather a lot more to learn, but he seems intent on learning.
Joe will not have the advantage earlier expat settlers enjoyed, using brodcasts to the nation by Jacques Chirac as an excellent tutorial aid, unless he scours YouTube and the shops for recorded examples.
If Chirac's TV addresses prove hard to locate, I would recommend François Fillon, the prime minister, some way ahead of President Sarkozy as a good alternative of a Frenchman who speaks his own language in a foreigner-friendly manner. That may reflect some need earlier in his marriage to make allowances when talking to his wife, who is Welsh, although I fully expect to be told her French was impeccable when they met.
As a well-paid professional footballer, he should find accommodation no problem. Joe and Carly will be able to afford just about anything the agents are likely to have on their books in the capital of Nord Pas-de-Calais, whether to rent or to buy.
I imagine maison secondaire would, in their case, take on new meaning as a third or even fourth pad, but they should be aware that having one is a French tradition, even among relatively modest earners. Normandy and Brittany are within reasonable reach, but then so is London, They'd be better off joining Jerry Hall, Tracey Emin and Ronnie Woods's ex-wife and finding something in or near Saint-Claire, a lovely corner of Le Lavandou.
Having just joined a British association in France, and so far attended no functions, I cannot yet advise the Coles on whether the Lille equivalent is one to embrace or avoid. He may suspect membership would just increase his chances of having unwelcome ear-bashings from people who follow Lille or, more likely, think he ought still be at one of his former clubs in the Premier League.
There is not much by way of precedent to help the English footballer in France. Trevor Steven, Chris Makin and especially Chris Waddle seemed happy enough during their stays in Marseille; regular readers of Salut! up in the north of France may have a better idea of whether Lille has attractions to match those of the second city down on the Mediterranean (I doubt whether the Lillois settle scores so readily with gunfire).
The only other piece of advice I can offer that Joe might consider expanding his karaoke repertoire.
He got away with Maybe It's Because I'm a Londoner at a Lille team dinner (having been pelted with bread when he tried the same thing at Chelsea), and can also manage Oasis's Don't Look Back in Anger.
But the French love their old classics, so a little effort invested in learning passable interpretations of Gilbert Montagné's Sous les Sunlights de Tropiques and the ubiquitous Claude François hit Alexandrie Alexandra could yield social dividends.
Choices, choices. Salut! has nothing terribly serious to say today so wishes Mr and Mrs Cole well in their French sojourn. Trouble is, if he does too well at Lille, Liverpool may haul him back to have his hubcaps removed while he queues for chip butties. But suddenly I feel the weight of my younger, Liverpool-supporting daughter's disdain at her dad's rotten Scouse joke.
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