Passing the border to France is so anti-climaxing that it doesn’t even register in. Drive drive drive ops suddenly you are in French soil. No Gendarmerie, no Louis de Funes, no baguettes nothing. Just some rainy weather. Total letdown. To protest we stop in a le Mc Donald and order le fille of fish and les potatos. Accidentally I order with mock French-English accent. Somehow we decide to pronounce everything with “le”. Sounds more French and more fun. Deep down in some old filling cabinet on the depths of my memory there are some French lessons dated 20+ years. I ll be damned if I can utter anything more than, merci, vulevu cushe avec moi, aujourd’hui, Jordy (rember him?) comment tu t’appelle, Lunedi. I also remember a funny gag from the Freak Brothers comic, where Fat Freddy somehow ends up in France and is put off by all the scary sounding food names, Poison, Crudities, Pain.