13 juin 2008

La plume de ma tante

"No, we av nem. Ma Tea Eez Reesh."

I frowned, the others laughed. I turned to Jean-Marie for help. He was looking elsewhere.

"My Tea Is Rich? As a brand name for the tearooms? It's not really a name," I ventured. "It doesn't really mean anything."

"Uh…" Bernard was crap at English but clearly very good at monosyllables. "Ma Tea Eez Reesh eez funny nem. Eaties Ingleesh oomoor."

"English humor? But we don't say that."

"Oh." Bernard turned to Jean-Marie for support.

"Of course, it should be my tailor," Jean-Marie explained.

"Your tailor?" I felt as if I was in the middle of a surrealist film. In a minute Salvador Dali was going to fly in through the window with a baguette sticking out of his trousers.

"My tailor is rich," Jean-Marie said.

"Is he?" Here comes Salvador, I thought, but all I could see out the window was the Eiffel Tower, as usual.

Stephen Clarke A Year in the Merde 2005

Chapitre 1, p.8 de God Save la France pour la version française de ce dialogue.

1 commentaire:

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