Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Un Imbecile Francais.

It probably hasn’t escaped anyone’s attention, in the last week or so, that, Francoise Hollande, the President of France, has had an affair. Apparently, such news has been swept under the carpet in France itself, being discarded as unimportant tittle tattle, and the private life of Hollande, which has absolutely no bearing or concern of the general French public, despite the fact that he is in full control of destroying, forgive me, I mean, running the country. 
We in England, however, despite having very little to do with the man himself (bar chuckling quietly at how one man could quite so effortlessly destroy an economy in such a short space of time.) have taken it upon ourselves to fill much of our daily newspapers with updates on the story. Private life? bah! not in Blighty, my friends, not in Blighty.

And so, thus far, we have learnt that Hollande has been having an affair for approximately 2 years to date. That his mistress, Julie Gayet, is pregnant, and that his wife, Valerie Trierweiler, an otherwise strong and determined woman, has been committed to a hospital, giving stress and exhaustion as the reason. 


Sigh, sigh, sigh. 

You see here is the thing. The French, it would seem, take great pride in the fact that it is standard protocol to 'keep a mistress', that the news of there President having done such a  thing should not be seen as shocking but more as confirmation that, far from being the limp-dicked little man we first thought he was, he is in fact, a stallion! A man who can juggle 2 women at the same time AND destroy an economy, what a hero! 

I don’t know if i find it depressing or completely hilarious that, according to the French press his popularity has risen by 16% since it became common knowledge of his wandering penis. Boff! ce n'est pas un probleme that I have no security job, pay extortionate taxes and live in a country of complete social discord, my President can get it up!

I can imagine the brain storming meeting at the Parlement Francais, as we speak "but Monsieur Hollande, the entire country hates you, whatever shall we do??"
"I know! I must fuck someone immediately! magnifique! je suis un vrai homme Francais! 

And so the reputation continues, France, a country of passionate lovers who prioritise ‘love’ above everything ... the respect for their wives, the people around them, and it would seem the entire economy of a country. 

My thoughts, are this. Shagging an actress for 2 years does not make Hollande a stallion, or a national treasure (why break the habit of a lifetime) it makes him selfish and insecure. A man, so consumed in self gratification that the entire well being of everyone around him becomes totally irrelevant (wife stressed and exhausted - read : utterly devastated and betrayed by a man she had committed her life to.)

He’s destroyed his wife, and made a mockery of the whole country. In fact, far from wallow in the romance of another French affair, it seems that the rest of the world now, simply roll their eyes and laughs at another French middle-aged adulterer who can’t keep it in his pants. 

Because the most brilliant thing about the story, is not the fact he proves himself to be yet another man who morphs into a complete dribbling fool when there is an open pair of legs in front of him, but the fact that he didn’t even have the sense and ability to keep it a secret, he rode to his mistresses love abode cunningly disguised by a moped helmet, oh how we laugh!

How genius, how French.

My advice to Hollande? you want to shag around and run a country, for fuck's sake, try and be discreet. A discreet affair might just pass as something passionate and French (yawn) ... a moped helmet, tells me you don’t give a shit about your wife, you don’t give a shit about your country, or what the people of that country think. You give a shit about your penis and when you can next insert it into a vagina. 

A romantic french lover, showing the world how to do it best or a middle aged fool who’s made a joke of an entire country. 

Vous decidez. 

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