Postcard from Paris - Obama
The Da Vinci Code is, of course, set in Paris and never has a single city had so many places made so famous by a single work. And never has a city appeared so ungrateful. One gets the feeling that the Parisians consider that the world should have known about the Louvre long before Chapter 1 of the book. By ‘the world’, they mean ‘Americans’.
Places take on a new significance when they are written about in fiction and, generally, readers like that. But there’s a tipping point if the fiction is too popular. Then the feeling becomes the same sort of resentment you feel when you see a review of your favourite ‘best kept secret’ café in a Sunday supplement. My theory is that people resent it when an author makes money writing about something familiar to them. By ‘people’, I mean ‘the French’.
Add this to the base state of resentment that is the resting state of the French and you have a perfect storm of people who resent the hell out of lots of people enjoying their city in print and then coming here to see it and spending their filthy foreign currency without really appreciating the city and all it has to offer, which is equal parts dog shit and rudeness.
Occasionally you see that the Brown effect has been embraced and that has resulted in many Euros pouring into the coffers of various churches as tourists visit and line up to take pictures of one another being menaced by Opal Dai monks or whatever not knowing that all they have to do to be menaced by clergy for free is to be small boys. You can just see the vicars of small parish churches with a fund raising thermometer constantly stuck at artic wishing that Dan Brown had set his last bestseller not in Paris but in a small Cotswold village. Maybe the Cream Tea Code will make it big boys.
There are many American tourists in Paris, possibly there to follow the Brown trail but more likely at this time of year to see whet it was their grandfather nearly got his arse shot off fighting for in WWII. On the whole it must be an interesting experience for them, not knowing if they might be related to the person now sneering at their choice of wine.
The most famous American tourist in the city this weekend was Barack Obama, President of the USA. I have developed a theory about why he stays in the Embassy and why his motocade drives so damned fast – he’s trying to get himself and Michelle away from Sarkoze and Carla. Because they are sex pests. One can just imagine the scene.
Sarkie: Zo, your wife, she is very bon, no?
BO: Er, yes, I think so.
S: And my wife, Carla, she is also very, very, bon. No?
BO: Sure, I guess.
S: So, maybe, after the talks, we four can…get together.
BO: Er, maybe.
S: Or maybe just me and Michelle.
BO: Er. (Horrible realization dawning that all he has heard about the French is true).
S: And you and Carla.
BO: Wow, is that the time…gotta go.
Which is why whenever you see Sarkozi and Obama in the same picture now they are so far apart the lighting conditions on them both are different and it looks like the thing has been crudely photoshopped.
Also why, in a few months time, this is going to happen:
Reporter: And it appears that there has been a total power failure at the White House, not a light is showing. How embarrassing that it should happen during the state visit of the President of France.
Inside:
Michelle: Barack honey, why are we sitting behind sofas in the dark with the emergency generators unplugged.
BO: Shush, they might hear you.
Sarkozi: (knocking at door) Heloooooooooooooo.
The situation is of course complicated because Barack would have ‘phoned other world leaders to find out if the same thing had happened to them only to be told by Tony Blair that at no time were any approaches made at any time for any kind of swapsies action with Cherie. Not even with the Eastern Bloc types.
The Obama roadshow or, more properly, motorcade, was spectacular. Cops on bikes, cops in cars, cops in helicopters, cops in boats. It certainly gave the police a chance to play with all of their toys and blow the Departmental budget in one glorious weekend. The centrepiece, ‘The Beast’ was preceded cops and followed by ambulances and fire engines. All this and the roads it was travelling on were closed. The traffic was chaotic as a result (?) but even with roads closed and the natural Parisian flair for truly appalling driving, the traffic chaos is nothing compared to Naples.
In all probability, of course, The Beast was empty and Obama was travelling by metro or on foot. He’s heard what happened to the last really famous person who travelled at high speed in Paris and he’s not taking any chances.
Places take on a new significance when they are written about in fiction and, generally, readers like that. But there’s a tipping point if the fiction is too popular. Then the feeling becomes the same sort of resentment you feel when you see a review of your favourite ‘best kept secret’ café in a Sunday supplement. My theory is that people resent it when an author makes money writing about something familiar to them. By ‘people’, I mean ‘the French’.
Add this to the base state of resentment that is the resting state of the French and you have a perfect storm of people who resent the hell out of lots of people enjoying their city in print and then coming here to see it and spending their filthy foreign currency without really appreciating the city and all it has to offer, which is equal parts dog shit and rudeness.
Occasionally you see that the Brown effect has been embraced and that has resulted in many Euros pouring into the coffers of various churches as tourists visit and line up to take pictures of one another being menaced by Opal Dai monks or whatever not knowing that all they have to do to be menaced by clergy for free is to be small boys. You can just see the vicars of small parish churches with a fund raising thermometer constantly stuck at artic wishing that Dan Brown had set his last bestseller not in Paris but in a small Cotswold village. Maybe the Cream Tea Code will make it big boys.
There are many American tourists in Paris, possibly there to follow the Brown trail but more likely at this time of year to see whet it was their grandfather nearly got his arse shot off fighting for in WWII. On the whole it must be an interesting experience for them, not knowing if they might be related to the person now sneering at their choice of wine.
The most famous American tourist in the city this weekend was Barack Obama, President of the USA. I have developed a theory about why he stays in the Embassy and why his motocade drives so damned fast – he’s trying to get himself and Michelle away from Sarkoze and Carla. Because they are sex pests. One can just imagine the scene.
Sarkie: Zo, your wife, she is very bon, no?
BO: Er, yes, I think so.
S: And my wife, Carla, she is also very, very, bon. No?
BO: Sure, I guess.
S: So, maybe, after the talks, we four can…get together.
BO: Er, maybe.
S: Or maybe just me and Michelle.
BO: Er. (Horrible realization dawning that all he has heard about the French is true).
S: And you and Carla.
BO: Wow, is that the time…gotta go.
Which is why whenever you see Sarkozi and Obama in the same picture now they are so far apart the lighting conditions on them both are different and it looks like the thing has been crudely photoshopped.
Also why, in a few months time, this is going to happen:
Reporter: And it appears that there has been a total power failure at the White House, not a light is showing. How embarrassing that it should happen during the state visit of the President of France.
Inside:
Michelle: Barack honey, why are we sitting behind sofas in the dark with the emergency generators unplugged.
BO: Shush, they might hear you.
Sarkozi: (knocking at door) Heloooooooooooooo.
The situation is of course complicated because Barack would have ‘phoned other world leaders to find out if the same thing had happened to them only to be told by Tony Blair that at no time were any approaches made at any time for any kind of swapsies action with Cherie. Not even with the Eastern Bloc types.
The Obama roadshow or, more properly, motorcade, was spectacular. Cops on bikes, cops in cars, cops in helicopters, cops in boats. It certainly gave the police a chance to play with all of their toys and blow the Departmental budget in one glorious weekend. The centrepiece, ‘The Beast’ was preceded cops and followed by ambulances and fire engines. All this and the roads it was travelling on were closed. The traffic was chaotic as a result (?) but even with roads closed and the natural Parisian flair for truly appalling driving, the traffic chaos is nothing compared to Naples.
In all probability, of course, The Beast was empty and Obama was travelling by metro or on foot. He’s heard what happened to the last really famous person who travelled at high speed in Paris and he’s not taking any chances.
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