Totally agree, BS. Sam Brick's writing was so bad it was like a parody in itself.
Pascal in his camouflage gear wouldn't look out of place singing YMCA with the Village People.
Like Grace Kelly, I almost stress-wee'ed myself laughing at some of the online comments.
A few people thought it resembled 'Allo, 'Allo. I thought that too and could imagine Officer Crabtree walking on, saying: "Good moaning. I 'ave a massage for Ronnay".
Here's my take on it:-
It was a perfect evening. The warm air was heavy with the fragrance of honeysuckle and lavender. Gazing into Pascal's velvety chocolate-brown eyes, I could feel myself melting with desire.
"Come wiz me, ma cherie. I weel take you away from all zis ceeveelizashon " he whispered, chewing a clove of garlic and twirling his moustache. The man's a sex-god. What woman could resist him?
Suddenly I became aware of a horrible odour akin to burst drains and felt the urge to retch.
Pascal exclaimed: "Zut, alors! I knew I 'ad forgotten someseeng. Today is ze day I 'ave my monthly change of underwear".
Seriously, though, it must be hellish being married to that insensitive, domineering, unhygienic, oaf. I wonder if she is really so deliriously happy with him or is just kidding herself that she is.