paris and i ~ 'flogging a dead 'orse

8/8/2019 Paris and I ~ 'Flogging a Dead 'Orse'

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/paris-and-i-flogging-a-dead-orse 1/5© 2010 Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free / Paris and I

Monday, 18 October 2010

Sitting in a café in some Ile de France outpost where i've beendumped for an hour and a half during one of the SNCF's fun-fun-funstrikes, i got to reading a few blog posts on my trusty mobile phoneand thinking aboutParis bloggers, andBloggeuses (the

female version) inparticular.

The occurrence of the Female in ParisBlog (let's just callthem Flogs) hasreached epidemicproportions. Therea r e l i t e r a l l yhundreds of thethings. And in caseyou hadn't noticedguys, the Hermèsgloves are off.

Just take the pallylittle get togetherbetween a bunch of

the most prolificParis girlies recently,c om p l e t e w i t hcheesy grinningphotos on their Flogsto prove it. This wasthe first sign.

Was this really a chance to finally meet up with all the other like-minded displaced sisters in this city of confusion and caprice? Yeah,right. Know Your Enemy , more like.

Did you make it through the mutual mentions and yearning eulogies

~ Flogging A Dead ‘Orse ~

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to each other following this monumental meeting of minds andmacaroons? Don't be fooled . It's all a ploy to lower the competition's

suspicion levels so they can slide insidiously under each other's guardand siphon off their best ideas for future postings of their own. WeakenTheir Defences.

Could you fail to spot the feigned regret in references to 'those whocouldn't make it'? Don't believe a word of it. Never forget. Never forgive. You had your chance. Now you're on your own.

Hear some of them plead that they'd love to have been there had it not

been for that unavoidable foreign business trip? You either missed theboat, honey, or you didn't have a ticket in the first place...

And girls. About the subject matter. Just a word. We don't give a damnthat you think you have just eaten the. most. sublime. macaroons in

the whole of Paris.

Yes, Paris is well knownfor cakes. Yes, some of them taste ok if you like

sugar and artificialflavourings and colours.Yes, we know what theylook like and don't needsome pointless picturesto 'get it'. And then youspend the rest of theposting (or a new one)whin ing that rea l

Parisiènnes are so slim.Real Parisiènnes don'thave blogs dedicated tomacaroons either.

And then there are theFlogs (False Frogs?)

which claim to offer us a glimpse of the 'other' Paris. The secret,hidden one, you know? Yes, that's right - the one crawling with expatbloggeuses teetering around in their new Jimmy Choos, melting

macaroon in one hand, buffed bamboo in the other, thinking they'rethe first non-Frenchie on earth to have visited the Catacombes or the










Canal Saint Martin.

Obviously, not all female expat bloggeuses are like this. Some areworse. But then there are a handful that admit that most of these on-line wannabe schoolgirl diarrhies, probably including theirs, are justunoriginal, personality-free, regurgitated tourist guide crap, with,hmmm, let me see now, oh look: a picture of the... Eiffel Tower (notany old tower, mind you), just in case we'd all forgotten how bloodyfrançaise our favourite bloggeuse has truly become.

So give us a break, girls. i don't give a damn how many hits you get;

funny how there's about 50 of you hard-core Floggeuses out there, andyou all get about 50 messages per post. All saying exactly the samething. Generally about macaroons. Or chocolate. Or shoes. Or those to-die-for matching leggings and scarf ('Do they ever go anywherewithout a scarf ??? - hehe' ) you saw on a real Parisiènne the other day.Or the latest risqué photo exhibition of borderline teenage voyeurismto prove they can't be shockée, or perhaps that they really were (cuefaintly funny anecdote about fickleFrench morals, usually starting with 'Iknow I live here, but...').

Now us guys don't mess around withall this sort of smarmy smugness andpretentious prattle.

For a start, each of us knows that ourblog is the best, and there's not reallyany competitive place to go when youstart from that basis. And even if we

know that our blog is total crap orutter shite, we are quite happy in theknowledge that, not only is it crap orshite: it's the crappest or the shitest ,and we can relax with the satisfactionthat we are number one in thatcategory and get on with the importantstuff in life. Like paying a fortune to swallow vast quantities of poisonous liquids until we vomit it all up again, with no refund! What alaugh! Or watching other grown men playing with their balls and

hugging and kissing each other at the end of a particularly excitingballplay.










Of course the stakes are far higher for the ladies. While they're longing

for that book deal or regular column in Metro, or the holy grail: aserialisation in Vogue or Cosmo, or even just Marie Claire would donicely, we guys know the crap we spout wouldn't even be printed onloo paper unless we paid for it, so the thought doesn't even cross ourbooze befuddled footy funked up minds (what's left of them).

Us chaps have simple needs, and simple rewards such as a pat on thehead, a heartfelt 'good boy' or surprise six pack of our favourite brew

suffice amply. We couldn't hope

for more.

But let's face it; the playingfield's hardly even and we'renot really comparing like withlike. Any self-respecting guywould give his left, and possiblyright testicle to be Rob Zombiein this video. Paris Floggers, onthe other hand, would like us to

believe that they are constantlybeing badgered to attendexclusive vernissages andconstantly have to turn downinvitations to sophisticatedParisian wine tastings the likesof which few foreigners everget so much as a sniff of. i didmanage to find some rare

footage of a Floggeuse at one of these exclusive high-society parties,which you can enjoy here. The first minute pretty much says it all.

So ladies; worthy creative expats of the female gender; FabulousFloggeuses of gay Paris: loosen up! Say it like it is.

Get over the food and frocks fetish. How can i put this..? We Don'tCare.

You wanna bitch about being here? Leave.

Got something genuinely funny and original to say about your time in





http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdKXShP_oc4



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcI_T3VYBcs










the country which doesn't involve cheap laughs at the French whichsay far more about you than about them? Great, let's hear it.

Not happy coz it's not like back home? Umm, here's an idea: go backhome.

Need some truly original ideas for your next blog post? Just track downa lovely, cuddly, adorable expat guy (i can give you some names), buyhim a few beers to enjoy with you (well, you can have a bit of one of them, if you can find a clean glass)as you watch his favourite match

on telly together, and maybe he'llslur something about social divides,irony, black humour, irreverent wit,tongue-in-cheek, a city of twohalves, the dark side, not takingthings too seriously, and realisingthere's more to life than macaroonsand moaning.

Or maybe he'll just throw up on

you and ask you to pass himanother can.

So, fed up with having to fakeinterest in replying to some fat 50-something from friggin' Alabamawho knows 'exactly what you meanabout the leggings'? The answer'seasy. Do like i do. Write bitter and

twisted shit. Don't get any comments. Don't upset anyone coz no-one'seven reading (prove me wrong). Actually, come to think of it... i'llcomment!

Just kidding ladies - you know i love you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. This unusual Paris and I entry was inspired by a recent posting bya Floggeuse who shall remain nameless, as shall the reason she

inspired me, unless the person in question directly asks me: Was itme? In which case I reserve the right to lie. I love her stuff though :-*








paris and i ~ 'flogging a dead 'orse

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