THIRTIETH CHAPTER: THE CRUISE DO MORE FUN!
- You're right, absolutely right. Because if your writer is dead, she asked for it.
- Oh! You have no right ...
Thierry Leray can not restrain his indignation. Jean-Pierre Mourlon squirms his recliner. The fourth passenger on the barge, he only listens to his deaf ear, too busy to lock through his fifth-ball glass of Sancerre. The four men
embarked on at Clamecy Morvandelle boisterous, a little home-boat rental. Decize direction, via the Canal du Nivernais. A bright idea from the former journalist Mourlon recently passionate about boating, a string to his bow was missing until this summer. Three phone calls to him were enough to round up his former Chief Bernard Diaz, the publisher and an old friend Leray Corsican Philippe Tamburini. None of the four sailors
makeshift too has piloting experience: Diaz lodge well in a barge moored at a wharf in Paris, but he never dared to cast off, let it be repaired the engine does Tamburini his captain's hat as to hide his baldness; Mourlon Leray and have made a half-day excursion across the bridges Decize aboard the barge The iconic Nivernaise. A short drive, despite the enthusiasm of a neophyte, Mourlon has sheared a rope in the propeller, lost an anchor, snatched two rings and pressed the bow of the Pénichette in its first lock - which will cost at least 500 € deposit and a bottle of champagne for the lock.
- If I say she has sought is a way of speaking. Note although without you, my dear friend, and would not have it thrown into the lion's ...
- Loup Joel Lenoir, obviously. A wolf, if I believe the chief warrant officer, vanished in the woods. I release from liability. Odile had contacted if any other publisher, the case would have taken the same turn.
- Not so sure! I noticed both of your carelessness major novelist. First, she spoke to a publisher who is the stronghold of Sherlock Nivernais himself and that is precisely in dealing with it.
- I mainly deal with our friend Mourlon, compared to the succession Fumerol.
- not only his estate, but his great posthumous work, adds the aforementioned Mourlon, dropping the bar to wipe the sweat dripping on his rugged face.
- Ttttention! You're going to foutttre in the bank, exclaimed Philip Tamburini, who rushes to the aid of a bottle of Sancerre.
The boat swerved, ranges from starboard to port and draws its wake again, watched enamored of a herd of cattle.
Diaz picks up the thread of his argument:
- The country bumpkin, the minus habens that cops have arrested you call it? Doutray, that's it ... It will disclaim never murder. There will always proclaim that he acted under the influence. And the shrinks are going to do intern.
Leray returned to the charge:
- You mentioned the two faults of the novelist. What is the second?
- You had encouraged. She was coming to sign his first contract as a writer vain ... Vain, chimerical, proud like all beginners, and to lather she read his thriller from a girlfriend who happens to be in cahoots with Lenoir. Because Sherlock Decize-ien ...
- Zois, not zien, much less Parisian dog's head ... Tsizois!
- No? You say ee-Decize or tsizois, oh good, I have not yet focused. Lenoir is filled everywhere in libraries as in bookshops. He needs to develop his material short pieces. Or to pump better in others.
- Does she could have known?
- Zat IS ze question, my dear! We lack a real Sherlock .... The
Morvandelle frenzied approach of a new lock. The pilot Mourlon, all senses alert, nerves taut, his beard pointed toward the bow, carefully maneuver. He wishes to put a good face this time, and especially avoid stamping again the hull. On his left, Philippe Tamburini, indifferent to green pastures Nevers, rummages in the icebox looking for a new bottle: Unfortunately, it fails to extract only two empty cans of Kronenbourg and a crumpled paperback. Thierry Leray, a professional gesture, seized the book and examines it:
- The Cruise will have more fun, it's funny like that. Who could forget this book? Ah, that's stronger than the ... you see, gentlemen? Another thriller signed by the famous Lenoir. Omnipresent, haunting, ubiquitous, it will taunt us up on the waves ...
- What are you talking about rugby? asks the ingenuous Tamburini.
- U-bi-that-silence, blessed with u-bi-qui-ty, it means he is everywhere.
- Like God?
- Good God, yes! Who prepared the cooler?
- It's me, "confesses a grunt pilot Mourlon. This is not the time to disturb me. Go and hang the end 'to the dick.
Bernard Diaz can not help but run:
- Barely an hour's sailing and you talk like a real sea dog, old man. By Corbigny, I'll use foam, cap'n. Then it will be the fourth of our friend Leray. Unless the reading of the novel does little obnubilates
... The conversation is interrupted suddenly. From above, two beautiful mermaids rotate the cranks singing the Morvandelle:
- ... And our driftwood which sails to Paris ... ...
who sailed to Paris, hi, hi, hi! .
- If it would help them, moved Tamburini.
Suiting the action to the word, the good man grasps the rung of a ladder and climbed lurched to the mainland. Since the barge, the three travelers misperceive the words of the island, interrupted by the chirping of the lock-keepers and fine grinding of cranks. When the boat
reaches the higher level, a hilarious spectacle offered to them. Philippe Tamburini, ruddy and unkempt, grabbed a hand crank on the other neck of the lock keeper and he screams his lungs a refrain of his country
- Ma chi voli me a Figlioli
Sempre dici di no, di no
If you voli a 'maritu
EIU read ti ... truvero
The festivities are interrupted by an intervention Jovian driver Mourlon:
- Hey, Filou, you want to establish you in the country? You'd be too old, time for kitties? We leave. Hurry up boarding.
Green gallant launches last kiss to his conquest ephemeral and quick to return the barge. The eagerness, emotion, drunkenness, all mix and tangle their feet in a rope, leaving the mainland and hover just collapse on the deck of the frenzied Morvandelle. Leray and Diaz were quick to rebuild, to daub with mercurochrome and assigned a new bottle of Sancerre, hitherto hidden in the trunk for lifejackets. The highly skilled driver managed to leave the lock without a hitch. And come the Pénichette ...
- Bizarre, this novel. It happens on the Canal du Nivernais. As our tour.
- You tell us later. Back to your writer, suggests Bernard Diaz.
- No time must be I read this entire book. Leave me ...
Annoyed, Diaz will lean on the stern of the boat, he examines the not so distant horizon, precisely where a boat has just occurred swallowing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST: THE FIFTH MEETING TYPE
Swallowing? Swallowing a boat? Is it a monster, a boat flycatcher, a longship spitting fire, a pirate, an icebreaker? No, it should be clarified for the reader puzzled as Morvandelle frenzied, which sails from Clamecy to Corbigny is rising (it rises to the highest point of the channel situated in the vaults of the Collancelle) and an oncoming boat is swallowed (it goes downstream). The above boat
swallowing is a Berry, a former barge adapted to narrow locks of the Canal du Berry deceased. And its owner has not hesitated to baptize the Bébert-Ichon. Why the pun? Certainly not to offend our friend Bernard Diaz, an expert on jokes about blogs, as will the cross now.
Everything would be fine if the crossing without problems. But the pilot Emeritus Mourlon wondered whether to cross to the left or right. At the first warning sound of the horn Bebert Ichon-launches into the sky, Jean-Pierre Mourlon pushes the bar to port, the second, thinking he was wrong, he pushes her to starboard. And the inevitable happens. The barge struck the Berry, performs a head-to-tail and ends up in the reeds bloom so appreciated by singers Morvan.
- Thousand ports! What makes me such a fucking asshole. Another Parisian, I presume!
The master of Berry, a large bearded, stands on the bridge, eyes bulging, his cap in battle. He waves a blunder and pretends to harpoon the barge.
Battleship is narrowly averted thanks to the miraculous intervention Philippe Tamburini. The man was found under the lifeline a box of Chablis and offers a small snack prior to any accident report. Thus Jean-Pierre Mourlon Bernard Diaz, Thierry Leray, Philippe Tamburini get acquainted with Charlie Mountain, painter, specializing in canals, locks, lock-keepers, the lock-keepers, arches, canals, dams and bascule bridges.
Soon enough, the painter imposes his verve browser passengers Morvandelle the wild. Mountain Charlie is a tireless storyteller, he knows the canals of France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany and the Netherlands yard by yard, he crossed a thousand ships, recorded a multitude of anecdotes. He even learned the fall of the Clio Odile Garnier Lock Mount, and the tragic drowning of the unfortunate writer Aron in the pond. It is on this point that Thierry Leray directs the conversation. However, the artist has retained only the nautical details of the tragedy, he has no idea of the motives of the kidnapping and crime, of course, entirely innocent of the lock keepers, employees Waterways of France and boaters and the name means nothing to Joel Lenoir him, any more than the title of the book that shows him Leray, The Cruise will have more fun.
Both boats are moored behind one another. The Berry has only minor scratches, a fender judiciously placed avoided more serious damage, and the metal of the hull has seen others, but the barge is unable to continue his cruise: the prow is pressed and cracked above the waterline Fortunately, management is distorted, the fuel tank is leaking. As it is too late to bring a convenience store or a replacement vessel, the sailors decided improvised spend the evening on shore, they unloaded a few chairs, a table, umbrella, blankets, glasses, bottles, a corkscrew, Bernard Diaz, who wanted to stretch their legs, is sent to the village closest with a mission to find a stock of extra drinks. Philippe Tamburini stacks of dead branches gathered in a hedge of dogwoods and bustling around with his lighter, an old newspaper and twigs of straw. Thierry Leray
And take this opportunity to read, aloud, a chapter of The Cruise will have more fun.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: ROBIN
- At first, friends, I am summarizing what I read during the locking. You know the Aster?
- Asterix or starfish? Asthenia or asteroid? Asks Bernard Diaz, incorrigible comedian.
- Ignorant Parigot, I mean the Aster, the barge-walk, which was formerly the back and forth across the channel and an idiot bureaucrat bickering was sentenced to rot in dry dock in Saint-Léger. Well, the novel's action takes place on the ship. A group of seniors, the association's''The Most Beautiful Age Two-Savoie''embarks Châtillon for half a day's sailing, gastronomy, folk songs and riddles. The granny and grandpas take it easy until the dog Petty, Bobby, is suddenly pierced by an arrow, coming from behind the towpath. Turbin father's anger, the boatman, hysterics for a navy and one of the deans of the Two-Savoie, unfortunately interrupted in the tasting of a sponge. Who is this Indian? I ask you, because I've stopped at this line when our pilot Emeritus ... ... ... lost the North or the South ...
- Laugh, blockhead! I did what I could ...
- And you could just ...
- Pace e salute! Philippe comes Tamburini.
- I resume my chapter. "The group agrees on the little rickety bridge. Excursionists little sea legs, so it is with the utmost caution they descend from the barge Aster. They were promised refreshments as they ascend on board, after casting a quick glance at the drawbridge and after listening with half an ear to the guide. All
are not lowered. Ms. Dumet preferred to stay seated. Travel, she likes, but what is the embarrassment of walking, since its phlebitis, it does not take risks, she would sit in his place against all the sides. One of her friends, Ms. Saizy, tell him everything, she does not have to worry about.
The old lady was soon asleep. His head nods from both sides. A sudden movement in the plans before, against the previous rows of seats: this is not sleep, she planted an arrow in the left temple. A second arrow moves to the top of her, the tip was lodged in a part of the sunroof.
- I dream not, Mr. Prosecutor, it is murder. It is not possible that so little range of hazards of this kind happening again. Half an hour after the boatman's dog, that one passenger killed by arrow. I think it's a balance. And he attached a message to the second arrow:''You did, you say, a revolution? But where has she passed that nowhere did we saw a trace? A fire leaves behind ashes, yet the ashes of the old regime, where are they?''
- This message, where was he placed ?
- A small roll stuck in the tail. Two or three sentences cut in an old book and pasted on paper stronger.
- Bizarre, this revolutionary statement. A visionary, no doubt, because I do not see what political movement still adopt this language. And for the dog, was there a message?
- Yes, glued to the shaft of the arrow:''The dogs barking as the caravan stops over there.''
- He's crazy. We'll have to put it out of harm's way at the earliest.
- Rest assured, Mr. Prosecutor, we immediately renewed the elderly their coach and the gendarmerie Corbigny has blocked all access, half a squadron of mobile police must comb the surrounding fields. "I Quit. You listen more ...
In fact, three listeners have their heads elsewhere. For several minutes, a hum is heard on the towpath. A tractor appears in the corner. A Massey-Ferguson outdated. A trailer is attached, loaded with a pile of hay, on which is perched Bernard Diaz. The pub-grocery Bazolles, the envoy managed to find a keg of wine Tannay and two cases of beer. The load is too heavy, he initially bargained rent a wheelbarrow wheel while the vehicle was veiled under the burden from the first meters, and it is a brave farmer who serviced the father Migny was precisely in the same direction with a load of hay for his cows.
Bernard Diaz, proud as a peacock, rises to the top of the trailer and beats the air with both arms:
- Hoc bibendum is shouted the tanker, who knows that his fellow travelers have letters. Everyone appreciates
supplement beverage according to their preferences:
- From Hoegaarden and lime, a treat!
- From the big red spot, as the regiment.
- Wine Tannay first choice, recommended by Wine Drinker Mild Devay, a brotherhood that comes to induct local Jean-Pierre Coffe Jean-Luc Petitrenaud a reference!
- Ugh, it's vinegar, your booze!
- Because he was shaken in the bumps, the father admits Migny, an ardent supporter of local products.
- Forget it! Come and help me open the beers. At least it does not surprise with ... Damn, it's not at the Hoegaarden is the same Valstar, empty me that in the channel ...
- No sacrilege, Valstar, it s 'in used for the sauce. You'll enjoy tonight a little salty lentils from Berry ...
- If it comes from Berry's all good, appreciates the owner of Berry, licking their chops.
- A Berrichon and ninety-nine sheep, it makes a hundred animals, believes appropriate to add Bernard Diaz.
- Parigot And it is a calf's head which is the evil! On your
unanswerable, Leray terminates silly digressions:
- With lentils seasoned with salt cress and onions, a glass of beer or two it will help to moisten the lenses is better than fleet, and then it me that cooking is I who command, and that's it. Already you do not listen to the novel.
Thierry Leray, at the height of annoyance, throws the Cruise does have more fun over his right shoulder. The unfortunate editor has not thought that behind his shoulder is the channel and the book of Joel Lenoir ended its flight in blackish water ...
Our friends will not know more ... No more than readers, alas, alas, alas! It
Bernard Diaz pulls the morality of this incident:
- Believe me, Thierry, believe in my experience: the publisher must Always confirm the launch of a book.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:
"WAS DONE ON THE BACK STRAPS! "
The van leaves the towpath and the county borrows 958. The driver, on edge since this morning, suddenly accelerates and makes the engine growl. Dede Rudalon has over the heads of these boaters unconscious. This morning, his boss woke at six and a half customers to troubleshoot between Chatillon and Baye. Once there, he is greeted by a band who only think Turlupins drink and guzzle, and barge is HS, he will have to come back with another boat and tow it to the pond Baye, certainly a week of work, shell carving, several hoops to untwist, to order parts, it would almost more convenient to abandon the carcass after retrieving the interior. What a fucking disaster!
his right, Jean-Pierre Mourlon ruminates her shame. Because expenses are for its apples. The insurance will probably look for lice in his beard. From the backseat, Diaz, Leray and Tamburini drowsy; intermittently, the last named is leaking profanity in his dialect - Porca miseria! Piombu!
Returning two hours earlier. The sun has just reached the tops of poplar trees that line the canal. Emerging from his sleeping bag, Bernard Diaz greets the new day with a sturdy pet, will empty her bladder on a molehill and humming the latest hit Emilie Loiseau Let me sleep!
On the bridge of Berry, gathered around a breakfast tonic, bacon and eggs, blueberry jam, loaf Morvan, black coffee elongated old calva, supercharged biscuits, omelets with Roquefort sauce and banana-kiwi-pear, other expedition members tend both ears to the stories of Charlie Mountain:
- Next summer, I count on you. An exceptional collection of craft, home-boats, tugs, patrol boats and the whole shebang of river navigation. A convoy as there ever was, even at the time of the trade, one hundred, one hundred and twenty, perhaps one hundred to fifty boats. English, Dutch, Germans, French of course. Cercy-Decize in the first day through the canal. Then meeting with the fleet of traditional Loire and we finish by developments on the water bodies decizois. With the key to a mega-show wine and organic produce ...
The enthusiasm of the artist-browser is halted by the horn of the van that stands on the towpath.
- Well, well, guys, I'll leave you to your landlord, or his expert. My Bebert not too bad. A quick minium next winter and there will be nothing. For you it will be less piece of cake.
Indeed, examination of the barge is not a cakewalk. Dede Rudalon is not convenient. He asked at length Mourlon, growls and thunders when he learns that the pilot failed to open water manual code, he does not know how to pass another boat, it confuses the port and starboard, it does has no notion of the audible warning ...
- But, finally! How were you able to give this barge?
- Yet your company. The agent of Clamecy.
- Ah, the asshole! I'll do break, me.
- Should perhaps review your bylaws. You are there to collect the money, and the boater Sort this out as it can be ...
- Not on this tone, my little gentleman. It was you who caused the accident. Not me, certainly, nor even Bordier, a colleague of Clamecy.
- The customer is king. It's written on your sanctimonious. Look!
- I'll watch the engine. Shut up and wait for me near the van. And then recover your rags and empty bottles. No question of leaving it all in the boat. With actors that lurk in the pond Baye, I advise you to empty it up ...
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: BETRAYED BY HIS FANS
The sky is gray, gray roofs The walls are gray, the trees are gray, fog spreads in gray stripes on the gray city. And Thierry Leray, who just opened the shutters - gray - in her room, little morale. After the botched trip on the canal. After the loss of the novel The Cruise will have more fun. Especially after the email he discovered on his computer when he got home: the printer to whom he entrusted the printing of the first eight volumes of the complete edition of Agnan Fumerol had to file for bankruptcy, bankruptcy irremediable ... And the subscribers who are waiting their first delivery to September 1. Tile!
- Hello! Mr Leray?
- In person.
- You do not know me. Alexis Julien, Chief Information Officer and Webmaster City Decize. It's your friend Jean-Pierre Mourlon gave me your number. I have some news that should cheer you up. Joel Lenoir was found.
- It is to Decize?
- Not really. It is in Gstaad, Switzerland.
- With Johnny?
- A side. It's a rummage on the Internet with Mourlon last night that we have researched his record. The novelist had taken the precaution of cutting his blog. But in a little fiddling, I managed to go back to the server, then connect me on the blogs of his fans. And just imagine a girl, a Miss Banania, published three or four postcards from the Swiss resort, with phrases more or less coded. The naive! In two shots ladle, with Mourlon friend, we got the exact address, phone number mobile, a car registration.
- Bravo. But what do you want ...?
- You come with us?
- Where?
- A hunting Joel. It's more fun than hunting dahu.
- Because you also ...
- Yes, me too. Lenoir played me a dirty trick. He made me work on a website devoted to Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock adored her as he said and then ... it pfutt Parisian agency that has won it all. And since we had not really written contract, I did all the preparatory work for the King of Prussia.
- Mourlon goes there too?
- Of course! He explained that he came to Decize last summer was primarily to meet Lenoir. So ... you are?
- Sorry, but I have to solve a pressing problem.
- An enigma in Lenoir?
- Perhaps it is the edition of Fumerol. You see, we did not come out. Well, good luck. If you get your hands on this despicable plagieur, please feel free to ...
- Included. See you soon! Mourlon will keep you step by step.
The same evening, the editor, who spent an exhausting day battle against the printer bankrupt and its liquidator, printers available, bankers, carriers, paper suppliers, local bookstores, not to mention the break-up with the usual retirement Inspector (worrying about the necessary corrections and identity Actual Bernard Diaz). The same evening, the editor, it must be recalled, cold, stuffiness, hoarseness, sinus pain, surrounded by a pile of wet tissues, shivering despite the three sweat he put on. The same night - we finally get there? - Editor, discouraged, angry, exhausted, his head stuffed, legs Cotton and ringing ears, must once again get that devil phone, whose ring him spin the eardrums, it shakes the meninges, it undermines the cerebellum, it jolts the pituitary, it eats into the Sylvian fissure and its mixture tubers quadrigemina. It was Jean-Pierre
Mourlon.
With his friend, he just arrived in Switzerland. They are currently at the police station from the highway, near Lausanne Having forgotten by negligence, buy a special sticker highway, they were arrested and fined. But they are on track. They will spend the night on the lake, with a colleague Grated Gruyere Petit journalist, best and only a little funny weekly Confederation. They believe is "the zone" tomorrow afternoon. Last
important detail: Mourlon made provision for a case of cracking, to try to return with half a wheel of Emmental.
Mourlon would talk forever about the beauty of Switzerland. We know nothing more because Leray shortens the conversation any extra effort it is unbearable ...
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE:
GSTAAD, PARADISE PERSECUTED IFCS
"Gstaad, July 26, 2007,
Friend ,
As expected, I'll keep you informed of our investigation. Have precisely located the bird. He lives with his wife and children in a cottage "prestige" praised the Agency Burckhardt & Partner. 600 square meters, 6 rooms each with balcony and bathroom, sauna, steam room, Jacuzzi, movie theater, two large lounges. Six employees at their service, two footmen, bodyguards, a cook, two maids, a chauffeur. A cut them with a Porsche and a Mercedes 4x4. Taxes cost € 33,840 per week, off season (ski season, it takes € 56,400). After
Lenoir and his wife spotted coming and going regularly to the cottage, I managed to get the record description of the hut and prices by an underling of the Agency, a Hungarian named Marlies Gyory-Kiss, who m 'moreover, been very accommodating to all sorts of other benefits, I pass ... It's the sister of a merchant Tokay Imperial Castle met beside the Danube, during my expedition last spring, family ties tighten
... For ourselves, we stay at Hotel Alphorn, Gsteigstrasse No. 4, two streets behind Lenoir. Not risk of being spotted, I shaved the beard (you find me, you too, very different) and the confederate was wearing Alexis curled in ringlets, we wear the Ray-Ban to protect us from direct sunlight and the reverb on snowcapped peaks of the Bernese. Although more modest than the villas "prestige", the hotel cost us each 110 Swiss francs per night, the food is pretty stodgy, and we must try other cuisines. Joel Lenoir
out three times a day, morning to buy newspapers and a few trinkets to the Valentino boutique, late afternoon He meets regularly with other specimens of the international jet set. We did not previously seen in Johnny, he goes home instead of Italians in the Villa Massimo Calzone, you know, the fake playboy older. Other associates: UMP activists responsible for dredging the "expatriate tax" to comfort them or take them back to France, I do not know, unless they new leaks capital; some Legude Arnaud teamed with former Stevie lofters they friment wherever we must show, Sonny's Bar at the Edelweiss, Golden Summit ... In the evening, about 23 hours, the famous novelist decizois that spy on us will inevitably spend two hours in an antique shop, Urs von Unger, a direct descendant of Baltic baron who ... you read Corto Maltese, I suppose. What are they? Mystery. At one o'clock in the morning, the novelist kehrt zurück nach Hause, accompanied by his driver and a bodyguard.
I spend my time in the bars and clubs, locations suitable for collecting information of all kinds. Alexis can hardly follow me. It remains cloistered half the day and especially a large part of the evening glued to the screen. He began exploring the blogosphere the region. His donations have already polyglot he revealed the underbelly of society gstaadienne, true or false stars of showbiz and rapacious finance. Between us, we are, beyond our investigation of Lenoir, a database of stories to scandal and gossip, we intend to haggle with the tabloids English or Italian (which pay better than their French equivalents). Returning to our
Sherlock. According to my little Hungarian, he received a visit from a gus Interpol, the day after his installation, the Agency is Marlies who briefed the cop. Without doubt, following the assassination Your novelist. It appears that the case was closed. Unless the political connections have helped him Lenoir
... Two or three days, and we'll launch the operation "bird cage" and you bring it to Decize. Alexis is a series of rumors spread on the Internet to stir up trouble in Lenoir and his ilk, Bernard Diaz is the relay in Paris. Then comes the downhill squad. I do not speak only thing you made, provided, of course, that it succeeds. A
maybe tomorrow, inshallah!
J.-PM "
Thierry Leray folds the letter, slips it into his pocket and left the bench where he settled few moments ago. Popaul, its assigned factor, emerges from the Rue Saint-Just, cap in battle, a broad smile parallel to his mustache, and a bouquet of red roses exceeds its carrying case.
- This is the big day, Thierry!
- What day?
- We are well on July 28?
- Yes, so what?
- Look at your calendar.
- This is the holy, holy ... holy ... the Samson.
- And on 10 Thermidor.
- Oh ... And what's Thermidor? You want to eat lobster for lunch? You invite me?
- Samson, the executioner. Ten Thermidor ... Look behind you. Yes ... The bust of Saint-Just. He was beheaded by Samson on 10 Thermidor ... July 28, 1794. So me, every year, I brought him red roses. You dig?
- But on 10 Thermidor Year II was July 28. This year, we are no longer on 10 Thermidor. The revolutionary calendar ... Are you sure that the time was called the executioner Samson?
- do not care. M'gâcher will not my birthday. I'm gonna sing a p'tite Carmagnole in boyfriend. Between Decizois, we must stand together ... Especially since the reaction triumph ...
Thierry Leray looks up to heaven where exactly two jets cross their plumes.
LOOK
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