RESTER CALME

Keep calm and carry on

It is reported that President Macron has tried (unsuccessfully) to silence the gilets jaunes protesters with a handful of big giveaways which, being France, could start a revolution.

With Brexit now it’s my belief,
You’d like a bit of light relief,
So hop across the Channel where,
The Macron Wunderkind is there.

I’m sorry, though, and must report,
The news from there is of the sort,
That might still tend to make you yawn,
Concerning Macron’s Gallic dawn.

He promised to reform the state,
To lower the taxation rate,
Because it takes a half, you see,
Of France’s yearly GDP.

He did some bits and bobs at first,
But then began to fear the worst,
As rioting within the towns,
Threatened to bring him crashing down.

He opened up the coffers then,
And so he might the riots stem,
He gave out cash, reduced the tax,
So fiscal discipline was lax.

But rioting still did not stop,
For since he’d given such a lot,
Presumably, the people thought,
They’d carry on and see what sort,
Of other goodies they might get,
So not to stop the fighting yet.

Protesters, therefore, all still fight,
Against Macron with all their might,
And he could have across the land,
A revolution on his hands.

For when the going gets too tough,
And people have just had enough,
The French rebel, Germans invade,
But as for Britons, I’m afraid,
With common sense sine qua non,
We just keep calm and carry on.

… IN THE FOOT

Hi viz vests

It is reported that the French Government has given in to the yellow vest protesters and promised to delay the planned tax increase on fuel for six months.

So Macron has now given in,
Which last week he said was a sin,
And so now with his tax delay,
The people will not have to pay,
The higher price for diesel fuel,
Which makes their cars go as a rule.

The gilet jaunes say, “Thanks a lot.
It means the money we have got,
Will now go further than before,
So, for the moment, nous t’adore.

But this is only for a while,
And Macron likely wears a smile,
Because he thinks in six months time,
He will have had months free of crime.

But, in fact, we all know the drill:
We will be demonstrating still,
With throwing bricks and torching cars,
And smashing windows in the bars.

But torching cars does, as a rule,
Involve the use of diesel fuel,
And until now we had concern,
The diesel we would have to burn,
Would likely be – how do you say? –,
More than we could afford to pay.

So Macron’s very kind response,
Which he announced not twice, but once,
Means we can buy the fuel we need,
To carry on with our misdeeds.

So Macron’s plan has now backfired,
The outcome’s not what he desired,
For the effect of this delay,
Is we don’t have so much to pay,
So can continue our protests,
Dressed in our trademark yellow vests!”

… THEN LET THEM USE PETROL

Marie Antoinette

It is reported that thousands of people wearing yellow vests (Health and Safety, you know) are protesting, some violently, against French President Macron’s decision to increase the price of diesel fuel. “Sir, they have no diesel.” “Then let them use petrol.”

Macron looks like a wonder kid,
Though it’s not clear just what he did,
To get elected – year ago –
But someone, somewhere ought to know.

But like the chiefs who went before,
A shock has always been in store,
For now – if you look you can see –
He’s lost his popularity.

That was before events last week,
When Frenchmen in a fit of pique,
All donned their yellow vests and then,
Set off to protest once again.

The thing that kicked these protests off,
Was people had all had enough,
Of Macron and his diesel hike,
Intended to promote the bike.

“We will not stand this any more,
So heed as we say Zut alors!
It’s fine for you, you are so posh,
But this rise hits us dans la poche.

There’ve been protests like this before,
Which ended up in blood and gore,
But that was seventeen seventy-five,
And back then people couldn’t drive.

Then it concerned the price of bread,
Required by most that are not dead,
But there are parallels today,
If you will treat us in this way.

We mean that Marie Antoinette,
Who said, “If they’ve no bread then let,
Them eat brioche – a type of cake –
Then they will no more trouble make.”

The rest you know, she lost her head,
And ever since that day’s been dead,
And if she could look back I bet,
Those famous words she would regret.

So now here is some good advice:
We can’t afford the diesel price,
That is because it’s now sky-high …
But don’t tell us to petrol buy!”

LOVE RATS

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It is reported that, as authorities in Paris attempt to exterminate the city’s four million rats (the rodents, that is), a campaign has been started by animal rights group Animaux Zoopolis to encourage commuters to love them instead.

We’ve talked about these rats before,
And how there are now many more,
To be seen in each street and square,
Of which most folk were unaware.

You’ll recall that the council did,
Want of these rodents to be rid,
And so it tried to seal their fate,
By poisoning the food they ate.

It hasn’t really worked too well,
They’re all still there as folk can tell,
And now a campaign has begun,
Which says that rats can be such fun.

The rats, they say, are much maligned,
And people really shouldn’t mind,
Sharing their spaces in the street,
With rodents who just want to eat.

“They are so cuddly,” they proclaim,
“And they have feelings just the same,
As they and all their family,
Stroll in the park to look for tea.

So members of the human race,
Embrace these rats and give them space,
For don’t you think it rather rude,
Attacking them with poisoned food?”

OPEN WEEFARE

Toilet sign

It is reported that open, unscreened urinals have been installed in Paris streets but shopkeepers and residents are demanding that they be removed; it turns out that they are only slightly preferable to the traditional French practice of weeing in the streets. Quite what women are supposed to do is not explained but see picture above.

In Paris it’s become the norm,
For people who need to perform,
A urination without seat,
To simply do it in the street.

But many now say this is bad,
’Cos with the weather that we’ve had,
For those who in the city dwell,
It leaves a quite disgusting smell.

The City Council then installed,
Urinals but folk were appalled,
Because they didn’t have a screen,
(One could see people wee, I mean.)

So opposition gathers pace,
To say that this is a disgrace,
And people should their wee-wee do,
Within some kind of private loo.

The Mayor, though, has not given in,
The critics he will bear and grin:
“It’s a solution as you asked,
With which the Council was then tasked.

So you should really not complain,
For if you do it is the Seine,
That, in the end, the brunt will bear,
’Cos everyone will pee in there!”

So if you go to France take care,
With people peeing everywhere,
Not many do it with panache,
And it’s hard to avoid a splash.

HANDS ON AGAIN?

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It is reported that after a large group of City financiers and other businessmen were criticised for their behaviour at a men only charity fundraising event, the French are still trying to entice bankers away from London to Paris with special enticements including tax cuts and free language schooling. What else could they possibly offer?

“So, Mes Amis, come here to France,
To where young ladies like to dance,
And in their frilly dresses they,
Are sure to brighten up your day.

Financial work is quite intense,
And so it makes a lot of sense,
That after an exhausting day,
You need time to relax and play.

But now we hear in London Town,
That you have had a dressing down,
For doing – now, how can I say? –
What people here do every day.

We’re sure that you will be aware,
Our shows include Folies Bergère,
In which our girls perform on stage,
With dancing from another age.

And you will find if you go there,
We’ve hostesses with some to spare;
As well as pretty they’re well-read,
And none of them is an airhead.”

But France’s efforts have upset,
Their neighbours, some who want to get,
A slice of this financial pie,
And think that Macron’s being sly.

The Dutch might be first to complain,
“That Macron, there, is such a pain;
The bankers should come over here,
Where they will find we have great beer.

They also can get on a high,
Because in some shops they can buy,
Not only wooden clogs and cheese,
But powders that their stress will ease.

And as for girls, ours are the best,
They come out well in any test,
And you can get there on the tram,
For mostly they’re in Amsterdam.”

The Germans then, as ever bold,
Said, “People will do as they’re told;
For girls we send you Hamburg way,
Where mostly in the docks they stay.

Down there it can be pretty rough,
The numbers are more than enough,
But if we say you would relax,
It might not fit established facts.”

That leaves the Poles who think they’ll be,
A head start on the other three,
Because there and on the payroll,
Are lots of girls who dance the pole!

So, bankers, if you plan to go,
Across the channel working so,
That your behaviour will not be,
Still scrutinised for all to see,
The situation, told in verse,
Instead of better, could be worse.

CLIMATE CHANGE DISASTER

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It is reported that Donald Trump has withdrawn the United States from the Paris Climate Change Accord to the apparent horror of the rest of the world.

“Now listen well, I’m Donald Trump,
And I’m afraid we have to dump,
This Paris climate thing which we,
Signed up to but must now be free.

The whole damn thing is all a hoax,
And will result in many folks,
Losing their jobs which is so bad,
And makes both them and me so mad.

Some say the problem’s caused by coal,
And it should not now have a rôle,
In the world as it does today;
But to these people I say, “Hey!
For me that is an ask too tough,
’Cos we’ve got mountains of the stuff.

The coal is sitting there for free,
So with a bit of help from me,
We’ll get to work, will dig and blast,
And it’s just tough if you’re aghast.

And then there’s fracking – jolly good –
We would do much more if we could,
But nothing you can do or say,
Will make the fracking go away.”

But others say, “You are a fool!
What you are doing is not cool.
And when it’s too late you will find,
That you’re consigning humankind,
To an uncertain future where,
They really won’t know what to wear.

For temperatures will be extreme,
Humidity from drought to teem,
Which means the only thing of use,
Although it might now sound obtuse,
Will be a brolly I’m afraid,
Which also can be a sunshade.”

But Trump replied, “I do not care,
About the moisture in the air,
Because right now my one main goal:
To have the miners dig the coal.

But when all that is underway,
And ere the onset of Doomsday,
Your kind advice I’ll not forget,
And p’rhaps a few umbrellas get!”