Sacre Bleurgh!
Je suis une gateaux! Ou est mon fromage avec les escargo?
Despite fighting two World Wars to ensure our freederm, them frenchfolk have made it illegal to tart up like Trapdoor guarding plasticine overworked vassals in motor vehicles, thus denying the young parisiennes the choice of couture.
So what if you want to dress in a Burk car - you should have the freedom to wear what you want!
It's a slippery slope... them Frenchies failed to make Français a universal language, so now it's insidious transformation by the back passage!
First disallow various forms of dress. Next, you'll have to wear a black beret. Shortly after, compulsory black trews and stripey shirt.
And then they'll raise duty on oil, forcing everyone onto bicycles. And before you know it, we'll be shot on sight for lack of onion necklaces and not having a baguette under your arm!
And if you don't have a garlic bulb in your glass of wine, it's off to the concentration camp for enforced curly moustache growth as your partner spreads their frog's legs as she seduces conquest after conquest avec les homme qui aiment la Poon in late night Channel 5 subtitled movies.
or something.
It bet it sucks to be a Ninja in France.
