So I can’t say I have a good idea of the French because I haven’t had the energy to visit France lately. But from friends who have been there, I know they’re a miserable bunch when it comes to helping people who don’t speak French. They will not attempt to help you, even if they understand English.

But then they come here, and use their God forsaken French accents to get away with all sorts of things!

I was basically at that 24 hour Pick ‘n Pay in Hout Bay on Sunday, when some ABSOLUTE FRENCH BELTER happened to be out of money. Not only like a few rand, but she was R50 short of what she needed.

Standing right behind her, I had the greatest view of French ass that I’ve ever seen. I then moved to the till next to her and heard her speaking. She could have been saying that I have a tiny dick or that she wouldn’t sleep with me ever for a million French moneys, but all I was hearing was love and the sounds of laughter coming from the kids that we would no doubt have.

Her voice sounded like God had sent a choir of angels down to earth with instruments hand crafted by him, and the worlds most prestigious choir was now playing to me.

Trying to concentrate on dead animals and old naked people to control my little wood pecker in my jeans, I heard her speaking God knows what.

Next thing

“Excoozi excoozi!”

I didn’t know what was going on, until she opened her wallet to show me it was empty. I thought she was gesturing to me to say that she doesn’t have condoms for me to use, but I thought “No cool I’ll just buy some quick”

I was about to ask for super large when the teller told me she was R50 short to pay for her stuff.

Being a guy, at that moment I didn’t care about the money and only thought of her falling in love with me after we make sweet, sweet love. She would then introduce me to the family who own vast stretches of land in France, and we’d spend the rest of our days growing grapes and vegetables while living in our chateau with the three kids. And banging.

I was obviously getting a bit excited here, and handed over R50 to the teller with a smile. I was in that weird stage, where my little guy was worrying about food supplies if I handed over that R50, but it was also excited about the prospect of going French.

So the money was gone and I was throwing a fake smile, trying to be cool and nonchalant, letting her know that I wasn’t getting excited about possibly hooking up with her.

So she gave me a big hug AND a kiss on the cheek (ITHANKYOU) and walked out. I couldn’t for the life of me understand what she was saying so there was no chance of a conversation. So I cruised out, and she was still outside, and I gave a casual wave which might have come across a little weird, I’m not sure. I never hooked up with her because I couldn’t speak a word of French, but I somehow thought “Well it’s R50, I’m sure I’ll get something!”

Kind of like when you think if you buy drinks from the promo chicks at clubs, they’ll take you home. And they never do, bugger!

So that’s my French love story, and I’m beginning to think that maybe this chick just acts French to get discounts while out shopping.

I’m pretty sure she wanted me though, but I just didn’t pick up on the signs. I probably should have just pointed at my piece, then pointed at her, then pointed at my car.

But I didn’t.

And that’s why I spent Sunday night watching New Moon by myself.

Further proof that life is indeed a bitch.

Did you see what I did there with the brand FCUK, and using French etc etc? Yes, I am a prodigy.