There’s one difference in these two pictures, taken a day apart in front of the house – can you spot it?

The shop assistant (or the owner, cause as far as I know he is here from 6:00 am to 12:00 am) looks up at me and obviously expects an answer. An Arabic language newspaper opened on the counter and no sign of him reaching for my cigarettes tells me I’m in for a philosophical moment.

So, we (want) need immigrants. Preferably (young) not to old, (who won’t need any social help) educated, and (white) who will blend in easily. Oh, and (no terrorists) (preferably Catholic ) — no really, we don’t mind.

But she surprised me. Instead of mentioning my laziness (because she clearly remember that when she visited Paris, French were less efficient than Japanese, therefore they were lazy – some kind of genetic problem that I must have had inherited because I was very French indeed – are you following me ?) , she blamed my English.

Not only I betrayed France by crossing the Atlantic Ocean, but apparently I also betrayed French language. Oh, that’s great.