The French
Kate & Mike

Part 1

Discover interesting facts about our garlic chomping neighbours in this definitive guide to The French!

Kate:   Oh, how I hate the fucking French,
The stupid hairy fuckers,
The ones that ride their crappy bikes,
The chefs, the clowns, the truckers.
The beret wearing, spitting Frogs,
Their breath stinks worse than cack.
Oh, how I wish they'd all fuck off
And not fucking well come back.

Oh, how I shit those garlic twats,
Those vino tanked up spackers.
I'd like to burn them all alive,
Stick needles in their knackers.
I'd make them eat their own foul food,
Their stinking French shite mess.
Oh, how I hate the fucking French,
They murdered our princess.

Mike:   I disagree. I love the French,
They really are fine fellows.
They sure know how to make good wine,
Rich and smooth and mellow.
It's they who make my favourite cheese
Roquefort Société.
So, say hoorah for the French!
I'd have them any day.

Sure, they slaughtered our princess
But she was such a whore.
In fact, as far as I'm concerned
They can take a whole load more.
And they can have some princes
And a fat duchess for free.
So come, you French, let's see once more
Madame Guillotine!

Kate:   The French are scum! They really are.
I don't know how you dare
To say they're nice when they don't shave
Their scabby armpit hair.
They drip with grease and stink like shite,
They're really quite unclean.
So, don't say that you like the French,
When that you do not mean.

Just think of all their crappy films,
Pretentious, dull and long,
With Gerard Dippy Doo-lah Day,
With his 14 foot long shlong,
And when I think of 'mime artistes'
It gives me bad the jitters.
I'd like to take their stripey shirts
And shove them up their shitters.

I'd take their silly Eiffel tower
And bung it in their bums,
And then I'd burn down all their shops
And chop up all their nuns.
I'd wipe my arse upon their flag,
I'd do just as I please.
The French suck but they DO make wine
And rather pleasant cheese.

Mike:   But that's my point, you cloth-eared bint
They make fine wines and cheeses.
Johnny Frog can make crap films
And do just what he pleases.
I don't have to watch them
And I need not see them mime.
But if they stopped wine and cheese,
That would be a crime.

I don't care if they don't know
How to use a flannel.
Their smell is kept away from me
By the English Channel.
You're being xenophobic,
You just hate them 'cos they're foreign.
You've done this far to often
And it's getting rather boring.

Why, oh why, are all your poems
Filled with animosity?
All this hate and anger
Is a sure sign of pomposity.
So let us please embrace the French
And hold them to our bosom
(Metaphorically of course,
For they are our smelly cousins).

The French
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