Spewing forth

Recently I've been basking in my Frenchie-ness. I've been speaking it where possible and even watching some French films, which is a good way to keep up with their foreign vernacular.

So, I'm going to take this chance to tell you all how I became French, or at least partly French.

I was young, reckless, living wild and free in the untameable outback of Hull when I was in a tragic car crash. It was horrific, even to think of it now brings a tear to my keyboard and a sniffle to my mouse. Come to think of it though, that may just be my tea burning.

Anyway, I had to be cut out of the wreckage of the tractor I was in at the time and eventually when I got to hospital the only way to save me was to amputate everything below the chest hair.

Fortunately for me, a donor 'below the chest hair' was found and shipped across from France - post haste.

I, of course, had been in a state of unconsciousness since the accident and came to feeling quite groggy and desperate for a croissant. Then I looked down.

'Zut alors, wat 'as 'append to ma bodee?'

A nurse came quickly to explain everything to me and I discovered I was quite fluent in all of the French swear words. The surgeon who had operated on me with this radical procedure was summoned to give me a full explanation and to talk me through some of the rehabilitation procedures I would need to use.

'Hello, I am Dr. Marcus Stanislav Quebec,' said Dr. Marcus Stanislav Quebec, 'and I performed this revolutionary procedure. I am quite proud of my work here, and rightfully so, look at how cleanly the pasty white English chest joins with the nondescript yet slightly tanned French gut.'

'Doctor, wat es 'appening to me? I ham totallee confuzed. End why iz zere no wine in zis 'opital? Where iz my wine?'

'Ahh,' said Dr. Marcus Stanislav Quebec 'I think I see where I may have over done it a little. Just a little tweak here, nurse' he turned and gestured for her to come and help 'I think it needs bringing in a little around the nipples, just tighten it up. Thanks.'

As they 'tweaked' the areas in question my cries went from 'Crikey Jemima, would you please stop that!' to 'Mais, ca alors, ca va pas, non?' then back to 'Wat are yu doing to mi?'

Finally they got to the correct mix of French and English and nailed everything back together and into place.

I'll let you into a little secret though; sometimes I do get an immense craving for Nutella and my belly button is only held on by that nurse's hair clip.

Au revior.