Monday, June 23, 2008

Songbird of France

An English tourist tells me how he would go about seducing the French president’s wife. “These French beauties are suckers for poets,” he explains. “I’d send her a note saying:

Let’s go for a meal

Let’s have a quick tipple
You’ll sigh when you feel
My tongue on your nipple.”

I scratch my head doubtfully. “I don’t think any amount of nipple talk will impress Ms Bruni,” I say. “Her nipples have seen and done everything.”

I encourage him to discuss his romantic fantasies with the other guests.

Now Gorilla Bananas is no poet, but he’s watched enough French movies to have a feel for the verbiage that goes down well with their floozies. If I were writing a love note to Carla, I’d pen something like this:

Your smile: it is the arrow that pierces my heart

Your skin: it is the food my body craves
Drain my lake of desolation with your lips.

I have a pretty shrewd idea that this sort of guff passes for sophistication in France, especially if it’s recited by one of those brooding Gallic voices that does the narration in films by Jean-Luc Godard. I assume it will translate well.

We were discussing France’s first lady because
she’s recently released an album of songs about each of the 30 men who’ve had the pleasure of licking her nipples. “Only 30?” I hear you ask. “It appears so,” I reply. Carla has been quite selective in her choice of paramours if one ignores the anonymous studs she’s picked up in bars, who obviously don’t count. She is one of those beautiful women, you see, who is particularly attracted to intellectuals. Having consorted with a succession of eminent writers and philosophers, she was swept off her feet by Sarko because of his “five or even six brains” (as she admiringly put it). One wonders how they fit inside his head. Maybe he keeps a couple in the refrigerator and one in his pants as a backup system.

Of course, I can see why Carla wouldn’t be interested in very handsome men. A stunningly attractive woman doesn’t want a lover who may – perish the thought – think that she is the lucky one. A clever fellow with a face like an owl will give her the perfect combination of adoration and gratitude, as well as helping her solve crossword puzzles. And if he happens to be president of France, she gets to flirt with the world’s most powerful men while upstaging their own dowdy spouses. The dove looks twice as lovely when preening her feathers beside the broiler hen.

The fascinating thing about Carla’s latest compositions is that they’ve made her enormously popular with the French public – far more so than her gnomish husband, who is widely regarded as a bit of a dick. You’ve got to admire a nation in which the president’s wife is feted for admitting to 30 past affairs and writing a song about each one of them. I don’t think it would have worked for Mrs Clinton, even if she’d possessed the required musical talent. Perhaps the French Constitution should be amended to allow Carla to continue in her position when Sarko is voted out of office. Ideally, he would be forced to bequeath her to the next incumbent, like the presidential seal. La courtisane de l'Elysée Palace might be a tourist attraction to rival the Eiffel Tower.

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Thank God Cheri Blair never got round to including the details of her past dickings in her tawdry memoir!
You are so right: only in France could a politician not get away with this but make political hay of it. In America, we had a president who assured us he didn't inhale when smoking pot (Please!), and his escapades with Monica Lewinsky cost him bigtime. I'm betting the same is true in the U.K. It's those pesky Puritans. They started here and went wild in America, and look what a legacy they've left.
Kevin - Oh, she hinted at it. Oral shenanigans must have been like posting a letter. Her mouth is rather pillar-box-like, isn't it?

But Ms Bruni is stunning. A tad on the bitchy side from what I hear (one has connections, you know) but it has to be said...her husband is strangely attractive.

Is this wrong? Do I need psychiatric help, do you think, Mr Bananas?
“Drain my lake of desolation with your lips.”

That’s a beautiful line. Is it one of your’s? I think I’ll have that if you don’t mind.
30 seems a suspiciously round figure doesn’t it? Nick Clegg (who he?) said something similar but I think he paid for some of them. Does it include the mistakes, the pity shags, the beer goggled romps? I wonder. I myself have had congress with Mrs Maroon only and that’s it, although I sometimes think that she’s been round the block a few times.
Vive la difference!
Apostrophe madness. sorry G.B.
I am dismayed that no-one has mentioned Mrs Wilson, wife of Mr Wilson who was in charge in the 1960s and 1970s. Mrs Wilson was a prolific published poet, probably best known for her wonderful work "After the Bomb":

After the bomb has fallen,
After the last something something cry
When the something something was a burnt out cinder
Drifting across the sky

And what about Mrs Macmillan's comic songs? "Pa Said No" was one, and "Barnsley Boulevard" was played extensively on cinema organs throughout the land.

People seem to have very short memories. Cordially etc, Mrs P
You nicked your "poem" from David Brent. "Lakes", indeed....
I cannot even imagine such a spectacle being performed by any First Consort in the States, and I'll be up at nights figuring out where indeed Sarkozy keeps those extra brains.
5 or even 6 brains?

to me, that'd suggest she possesses the capacity of 1/5 or 1/6...

(stunning though)
"Drain my lake of desolation with your lips."

I don't think Cherie would have done that on a first date.
based on this picture i would call him ugly hot and her plastic. can that really be her original nose? i'm not being catty, i'm really asking. it looks like latoya jackson's. but yeah...he's got a baryshnikov thing going for him. yum.
"You’ve got to admire a nation in which the president’s wife is feted for admitting to 30 past affairs and writing a song about each one of them."

This paragraph puts my country's puritanical hysteria regarding female sexuality in the terrible light it richly deserves.

I have a dream...that I'll someday soon live in a country where the first ladies can air their randy jollies and be celebrated playas instead of burned on the political stake.
Kevin: She admitted to "fancying Tony something rotten", which many might find horrible enough.

Mary: The French also have a right to privacy, so you can say what you want without the press paying your ex-lovers to reveal your bedroom secrets.

Papercuts: We all could use a bit of psychiatric help, Nichola, but fancying Sarko is OK. I can see why you like him given what you're used to in your neck of the woods.

Dr Maroon: Take the line as a gift, Dr. I didn't copy it, but someone may have thought of it before, for all I know. Your last comment reminds me of Henry Root, who married a cocktail waitress.

Mrs Pouncer: Madam, you have the memory of the elephant! You must excuse those of lesser faculties for forgetting the work of these poetesses. Did Mrs Wilson ever appear on TV? I only remember Lady Falkender.

Ulaca: Is that what you think? I never realised it was that good.

Ms Ari: Maybe Bill should produce an album of love songs now that Hillary's out of the running. He'd could hire Hulk Hogan to write the lyrics.

Kiki: Well I suppose brains aren't everything.

Sam: Maybe on a second date though. Catholic girls are supposed to be full of fervour once they get going.

Kara: Haha, so you like him too! Apparently he's got loads of energy to go with his intelligence - your acute feminine senses must have picked that up. Carla is 100% flesh where it counts.

Letty: It would need a change in culture. The French don't expect their leaders to set an example in their private lives, nor do they feel any pressure to copy them.
You may scoff, but we've managed to persuade Rodney (conductor of the local choral society as well as fellow-traveller in this ship of fools we call a cathedral choir) to commission the delightful Ms Bruni to compose their next piece. And if she declines that offer, we shall encourage her to apply for the position of Director of the (new) Girls' Choir! That should bring the punters in to Evensong.
I've always suspected Sarkozy was a soulless zombie. Maybe those brains of his are snacks.
I think it's a bit off that she chews her underwear. Call me old fashioned if you want.

Assuming she's been rolling in the hay for 15 years, then 30 affairs is only two shags a year. I think that's a paltry number, myself, but then I quite like France.
I'd tell her that her hairy armpits were as beautiful as Fontainbleau, and that I'd like to take the forest trail.

Never fails in Epping.
Dear Mr Papercraft, I take it that you are closely related to Mr Gorilla, or in his pay? Cordially, Mrs Pouncer
You mention Henry Root, Mr B - how I howled with laughter, many moons ago, on reading his letters.

I remember Carla Bruni when she was famous for bewitching the likes of Eric Clapton and Mick Jagger. She certainly has some notable notches on her bedpost(s).

Can Bass: Both excellent ideas! Perhaps you should try to soften her up with a few poems in French.

Kynoord: He'd be a fool to eat his own brains, no matter how many he had.

Ms Dgny: I think she's had an average of 100 shags with each of the 30 lovers. If they were one-night stands she wouldn't remember them well enough to write songs about them.

Norman: You are making an unfair generalisation about French women. Carla's armpits are un-bushy!

Mrs Pouncer: A very facetious remark, madam. I have never met the man and am deleting his insincere comment.

Kitty: We have the same sense of humour, Kitty. I really didn't know about Carla and the Stones, thanks for telling me.
Cow rather admires a man who can choose a supermodel, flaunt her internationally, and never blink when past lovers are acknowledged in song.

Were Cow a feline she would insert a catty comment agreeing that Carla's nose has been modified. As a Cow though she can only

I'd ravage your north
Destroy your south
I'd devastate your body
Then come in your mouth

My poetry is too violent and crude, I'm afraid.
I'll let you be the judge, old boy. "Excalibur" by David Brent:

I froze your tears and made a dagger,
and stabbed it in my cock forever.
It stays there like Excalibur,
Are you my Arthur?
Say you are.
Take this cool dark steeled blade,
Steal it, sheath it, in your lake.
I'd drown with you to be together.
Must you breathe? Cos I need Heaven.
Wow, she's one pretty lady. I'm telling you Mr. Bananas, a haiku is the way to a woman's heart.

Your face so pretty.
Your nipples are so perky
You make me horny.

Works like a charm!
Perhaps not love songs. A bad shag is surprisingly memorable! But with those numbers she is indeed a very busy girl.
Cow admits to a preference for GB's lakes of desolation over any of these posts.

But then she's just a simple Topiary...

Ah yes you are quite the love poet.

Carla is really rather gorgeous I think. But I don't think I'll be buying her cd somehow.

As for brains - there's little point having five or six if they never communicate with each other.
GB, you were quite sniffy about my armpit ploy.

How about," I love the smell of garlic in the morning."

Romantic non?
Ms Cow: Indeed, a woman can have a history and still be a lady in France. A "lake of desolation" is a French sort of thing.

Chrisv82: She'd be in no condition to swallow after that.

Ulaca: No comparison. His lake is real rather than metaphorical.

Secret Agent: Simple and to the point. Best used on a woman who's already three-quarters of the way there, I'd suggest.

Ms Dgny: That's true, unless you've had a lot of bad shags.

Ms Reluctant: Yes, if the brains work independently he wouldn't really know who he was or what he'd been thinking from one minute to the next.

Norman: You'll be talking about snails and frog's legs next.
That gives me an idea.
Sarko is breaking the mould here, French presidents are supposed to marry a rich old bat and shag an actress. Afraid it's not doing much for France's economic crisis though.
Brilliant idea! Though I couldn't imagine the lovely lady with either Mitterand or De Gaulle. The next pres would have to be bred on popular culture. Hmm... doesn't sound too French, does it?
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My dad's a philosopher
And you can shag him too

It's worked once before.
since you are always so complimentary about females...let me give you a perspective from the female point of view. Sarkozy is by no means gnomish. Yes, he is not a pretty boy. But to my mind he is sexy as hell and I wouldn't kick him out of bed even if he only had three brains. Women do not see these things the same as male might even say he has 'married down' since his lady is not famous for her many brains, just for her unbelievable beauty...haven't heard her warblings so can't comment on that...and I imagine he pulled some strings to get her the singing gig.
So what happened to Valery Giscard Destaing? I thought he was President of France.. really they are a funny lot they just cant stand up to our nice Mrs Thatcher can they?
Norman: I'm glad to stimulated your creative juices.

Lady Daphne: Are they having an economic crisis? Maybe it's time to make the farmers suffer for the nation.

Clea: Mitterand did have a mistress though. And an illegitimate daughter too.

Mr Boyo: The last thing she needs is a lover who'll be jealous of his father, so I think she'd fall for it. It's also got the best of the Wordsworth style in it.

Emma: As you're the THIRD woman in this thread who fancies Sarko, it's clear that the fellow must have something. I suspect it's the curve of his eyebrows.

Mutley: Valery Giscard Destaing was a bullet-headed charmer who drove women insane with lust.
Is it too late to start inventing salacious gossip involving Aristide Briande and Thora Hird?
I would have thought it is 50 years too late.
French beauty? I thought she was Italian.
She's so beautiful....!

> she was swept off her feet by Sarko because of his “five or even six brains” (as she admiringly put it). One wonders how they fit inside his head
LOL! :-)
She has lived in France since she was a child, which is good enough to make her a Frenchwoman in my eyes. I'm glad you can appreciate a beautiful woman, Eve.
I am a fan of her singing but not of her person!

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