World Within the World
The past has no future save the present.
A Social Embarrassment
For some years now I have been incapable of laughing out loud.
I take an interest in the folly of others to distract myself from my own.
Clarkson sits slumped at the bar like a man who has lost his dog. But he hasn’t got one. People are his dog.
You think you’re drinking in the atmosphere when it’s drinking you in.
The hand that shook mine will one day close my eyes.
I used to be a waterboy. Now I’ve grown up. Instead, I’m the plastic cup in a coffee machine.
Agatha, Bruno’s latest discard, is holding up his bar. If you can’t have your man, you can spoil his pitch.
Bruno’s Discard 2
Her smile that dazzled all is now a death’s head.
One side in. Out the other. That’s Bruno’s bed.
The Thursday Baguette
Nobody is as proud as Mr Bartnett when he carries his baguette home under his arm for breakfast. All the world thinks the boulangerie is closed on Thursdays, but he knows M. Martian, the baker, works overtime, and they have made a special arrangement. Mr Barnett’s pleasure is mine.
When you see flies cluster on a spot of ground in winter, you don’t need a pig or a dog to dig them out.
Exercise for couch potatoes.
Two designer-bald youngish men with identical swaggers, blue jeans and black aviator jackets, each with a black Scottie on a lead, smoking in tandem, the fag hand raised to the sky…
One of the feral kittens broke its neck trying to get through a fence. The head was stuck in the wire netting and the body at an acute angle hung in midair. It was covered with flies. A neighbour with gardening gloves detached the head from the fence while I held a bag open to catch the remains. I could feel the residual warmth through the plastic as I took it to the bin. Later in the day I saw the mother sitting on the exact spot where the accident happened. She stayed there until nightfall.
On a tree in the Place de Maintenon in Perpignan is carved, ‘La justice est une putain qui tout le monde baise à son façon’. ‘Justice is a whore whom everybody has their way with in their fashion.’ The perfumed pimps of politics stand by, preening.
When Madame Anna-Maria Lafosse shot dead her husband and two grown up sons, then turned the gun on herself, the note she left behind had three words and no name. ‘Une vie miserable.’
If I’d been wearing my glasses, I wouldn’t have walked on them.
Remy Blot was stopped for speeding by the gendarmes, drunk, smoking pot, without a driving licence or insurance, and talking on his mobile phone. The only thing he didn’t have was a body in the boot. Though he was on the right side of the road.
An Englishman’s Invitation
‘Don’t come tonight. We’re having friends.’
When a politician says, ‘It’s time to turn the page’, it’s because he sees the writing is on the wall.
Le Salon International de l’Agriculture
French Presidential candidates no longer kiss babies. Patting cows is more politically correct.
The world is ruled by men with necks and not a lot above them. And they all wear the same black body-fitting overcoat with a high-collar.
Fat men take off their suits and put on trainers and jumpsuits to jog with bodyguards and cameramen.
When ordinary people find themselves in the presence of top politicians, their fatuous smiles reflect the situation.
I can’t say I admire him as much as he admires himself.
Economists are the new super-chefs. They cook the global books.
Once banks were robbed. Now banks rob us.
He was said to be good with money, but money wasn’t always good with him.
He’s too bad to be false.
What is my nation?
You never break
the cup you hate.
I can’t pirouette on my big toe anymore. So I’m on the back foot.
Anyone with an idea is a potential dictator. Anyone with a fixed idea is.
Telling the truth ‘in confidence’ is the worst way of avoiding a lie.
A lie told carelessly reveals the truth in the worst possible light.
The truth told carelessly reveals a lie in the best possible light.
The only way to lie without risk is to change the subject.
Watch it, when someone says to you, ‘The truth be told’.
La France est un pays de philosophes. Quand je pose un question, tout le monde dit, je ne sais pas.
Forgiveness is the lowest form of love.
If you are not an enemy I don’t have to love you.
If I killed someone I’d bury him in the nearest cemetery.