That poor dear Ottawatonian – stranded on an AC plane unable to communicate – flapping about like a baby seal in search of his mother – mouthing through parched lips that he needs his 7-Up.
The Anglo flight attendant – unable to understand his French appeals – served him a Sprite. It’s a national disgrace, Pumpkins. Why are the French always mistreated in this way? His $12,000 payout for pain and suffering (including being “basically dead” if he cannot be served in French), Mon Dieu, adds insult to injury. And on Bastille Day, no less. Aux armes citoyens!
I tried communicating with a Frenchman once. It’s really not as hard as it looks. I move my lips – he moves his. It all sort of works itself out in a tongue twisting motion. His baguette culture turned out to be a perfect match for my plum pudding.
