The
History of the ISMS
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Chapter
15 - A fete worse than death
While I was here in Paris I thought that I would try to improve international relationships and expand our ISMS International network. Currently we do not have a representative in France and it's always the early worm that gets the bird. But, where would be the best place to start? I started back towards the city centre through the local park, looking for inspiration.
If you keep your fingers peeled, it's amazing what you see and hear when you're just walking around outside with not much to do. However, I didn't hang around for too long because there was a terrible smell emanating from a broken drain nearby and you could see - as well as smell - that it was full of human faculties. It reminded me of Frank; he always had something in the drainpipe.
As luck would have it, as I left the park I saw a sign that announced a garden party in the local church. What an ideal place to start, I thought; the vicar will have a lot of perishers to help him at the fete and I might be able to make a few useful contacts. I headed off in the direction of the church spire that was just protruding over the trees.
I was right; the church grounds were teaming with people, locals and visitors like me, and if there were any more people here the car park would have been fuller. Before making contact with the vicar, or should that be padre, I thought I would wander around the stalls and sideshows, just to get a feel of the place, and maybe try my luck. I picked up my free glass of orange juice en passant.
The first stall I passed was one where you had to try and throw a wooden ball into a bucket, without the ball bouncing out again. A large sign at the side of the stall proclaimed: "It's as easy as falling off a piece of cake". I know better, it's a fiddle and I wouldn't trust that with a bargepole. Next to that stall was one of the many refreshment tables around the church yard.
"Would
you like some venison?" a lady called out to me.
"No
thanks," I said "I've already got a drink."
"It's
deer!" she retorted.
"I
don't care how much it is" I said "I've already got a drink!"
That caused whales of laughter amongst the passers-by; I can't think why?
I
skipped past the stall selling enemas at €50 a bunch - for all
the use they are, you may as well stick them up your backside - and I
didn't stay long at the food tent either. I hate the constituency of
French cheese but I bought some just to be friendly.
"How
much cheese do you want?" asked the stallholder.
"Oh,
just use your excretion." I replied.
She
must have done because when I tried it I instantly spat it out all
over the stall.
"Do
you want a refund?" asked the lady stallholder.
"No
thanks" I said "I'll just have my money back!"
I
didn't bother with the burgers either because I'd noticed that the
cook had his hands knee-deep in burger mix.
©
The History of the ISMS is copyright to S L Rottenpig-Rules and LFG
publications in association with the ISMS and JRP
