Voulez-vous je suis le Jacque Chirac?
When I was a little boy, I couldn't say R properly. I couldn't even pronounce S, which was pretty damn shame, considering my name was - surprisingly - Risto. My parents made me feel better by saying that it didn't matter that I couldn't say a proper, rolling Finnish R. "You can speak perfect French later on, don'tcha worry about a thing, son." (Actually, they never called me "son.")
Unfortunately, there aren't too many rolling r's in the one word of French I managed to mutter last time I was in Paris. "Un ... one of those things", pointing to a croissant.
The funny thing is that Hannes gets a big kick out of us speaking French to him. He laughs and laughs and just can't get enough of our yapping. Only, since I still can't speak French, I just mumble meaningless sentences, such as "je suis jacques chirac et comme ci comme ca, c'est la vie oui oui."
It's not what you say, it's how you say it.
And how much air you're blowing on Hannes's face.
