Les Anglais ont débarqué...

"I'll knock your bloody block off"

Yes, les Anglais ont débarqué, or “The English are coming”. Normally I wouldn’t think too much about reading this status update. It was apparently written to announce the fact that I and three friends were making their way to Paris and so I chose to believe it was the French way of writing, “Super, some lovely Rosbifs are coming for a spot of tea and a chinwag”. I expected a buzz across the channel. After all, we’re exotic and exciting and English. I was a little perturbed however, by the sheer amount of social networking traffic surrounding the update (all incomprehensible to me as a mere unilingual by the way), and I began to think there was something I wasn’t quite getting. What I discovered led me to ponder the relationship between the French and the English in a little more detail... 

So, by now you know the sentence isn’t to be taken literally and that there is in fact a deeper meaning to the 4 words. Now I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that there is a jizz-based gag hidden in there somewhere. Indeed, the word “coming” has never quite been the same since early adolescence (Maybe that says something about the English sense of humour, or maybe just my own...). But alas these ‘spermy’ connotations were not intended by this little French four-word sentence (Shame really. A good jizz-based gag has the potential to be quite funny, if a little crude). The theme of bodily fluids does have us in the right ball park however...

To understand which one exactly, we simply have to look back (quite bluntly) at the history between England and France. Their war filled past is no secret and it seems the two were always having a bit of a tiff. So much so in fact, that the English coming to France became synonymous with fighting, pillaging and crucially, bloodshed. The cry of Les Anglais ont débarqué was very much one of fear and terror – sadly it often meant much French blood would be spilled. (I’d like to take the opportunity to apologise to any French people for my country’s naughty behaviour, but you lot were no angels yourselves!)

This cry, however has come to represent a very specific type of blood being spilled these days. Without getting too gory, let’s just say that we are referring to that which occurs monthly, lasts for about a week and is a particular issue for females (although the knock-on effect this has on the male population should not be ignored!). Essentially, and somewhat unfavourably, the arrival of the English is used to refer to the nuisance of menstruation. I’m a little disturbed by that and wonder what this must say for the relationship between us and the French. I’d be very interested to hear any interpretations or comments about les Anglais ont débarqué, from both an English and French point of view. Crucially, exactly how worried should I be now that I live amongst these people who think of me as ‘the blob’? I wonder what a Scot(t) would say?

Either way, I think these pictures show that bygones truly can be bygones. France, Nous vous aimons, and we know you love us just a little bit too. Now give us a kiss!

L'histoire de Rossbif

I am a recent graduate from the University of Loughborough, with a degree in Accounting and Financial Management... and I am fully aware that this is a terrible way to introduce myself. Doing such a thing at a dinner party would be social suicide. I would almost cetainly be labelled "gimp" or "the boring twat over there" and would probably spend the evening desperately trying to reverse these damning opinions. Cue laughing shamelessly at jokes and feigning interest in whatever it is the poor person that has been stuck with me has to to say. Thankfully this is not a dinner party. 

That said, if you’re reading this, chances are (for now at least), you probably already know me for the social buffoon that I am. You may even decide to continue to think of me as "that boring twat/gimp", but stick with me my friends. If ever this thing snowballs, and I obtain thousands of adoring readers that think I’m an insightful and witty observer of the world, I will remember you: one of my original readers. You may or may not be rewarded for this.  

So, let me continue by assuring you that I am discarding my sordid past of numerical debauchery and will not be pursuing a career in finance (or any related nonsense). Rather, I have decided to enrol at the “University of Life” in an attempt to broaden my horizons and experience a little bit more of what this little planet has to offer (The rewards are obvious with such distinguished alumni like Chris Finch) . And so I find myself in Paris: a place where I hope to meet new people, learn a language and experience many new things, both good and bad! (You may have noticed the name of this blog; you see Ross-bif is a rather brilliant play on words. Much like the English refer to the French as frogs, (arguably due to their tendency to eat the little green buggers – though the debate is ongoing), the French affectionately refer to the English as Les Rosbifs due to our love of, yes you guessed it, Roast Beef! No prizes for guessing my first name then. Come to think of it, I probably am a gimp, but GImp-bif just wouldn't throw up connotations I'd be comfortable with. I'll stick with my original title thanks.

... Anyway, as I make my way through my little Parisian adventure, I will try to keep all those back home (and anyone else who is interested) updated on what I've been up to. I will be writing about anything I find interesting and I only hope you will share the sentiment.
 

A la prochaine, mes amis!