Nimes
My girlfriend and I spent a glorious late summer in the beautiful city of Nimes. We wandered through Roman amphitheatre, visited the temple of Diane, scoffed olives and strong coffee and generally had the time of our lives.
We were sitting watching old fellas play boule and the world was a good place when a old french chap introduced himself. His English was a poor as my French but we still managed to have a lovely chat about his role in WWII, his sister camping in Kent (she thought it was beautiful) ,his life in Canada and so on when the chat suddenly turned darker. I struggled to understand what he was talking about when my girlfriend explained he was talking about Arabs. The whole conversation was directed through me, he barely acknowledged she was there even though her French was much better then mine. He didn't like that there was a strong Arab quarter in Nimes as they were 'dirty'. He could see that I was struggling with the direction of the conversation so he gently held my hand and proudly announced 'Spingers, je suis un racist'. I replied ' Reynard, je ne pas un racist' With this he politely doffed his hat and bid us au revoir.
It was a strange but very enjoyable encounter with a good old fashioned dirty racist bastard.
Word of advice to the racists, perhaps, if you were as polite as Reynard more people would join you on you pointlessly bitter journey through life you daft cunts.
( spingers, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 7:47, 1 reply)

Polite racism
paved the way to the gas chambers.

Just saying.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 8:55, closed)