It seems like the elephant in the room isn’t.
Isn’t there, I mean.
In the room.
If it was then presumably it would remind TLF.
About all the things TLF forgets.
Because elephants unlike TLFs never forget.
TLFs forget for a variety of reasons – lack of sleep, excessive levels of giddy excitement, hangovers (very rarely) and far too often the outrageous reality that is the need to get to and do some WORK.
So if I was actually le TLE (keep up!) maybe you wouldn’t have missed out on any of the following, which I have rediscovered after reviewing note books and removing from various trouser pockets small scraps of paper with little notes on them (hi-tech that’s TLF):
A rant about lazy journalism – During the stupid behaviour by a stupid minority that took place in Lille, reporters referred to the use of tear gas (and other phrases for indications of bad things happening) outside Lille’s railway station. Well do you know what they have three? Would it have been too much effort to say Lille Europe, or Lille Flandres or Lille the-other-one-just-out-of-town-that-TLF-forgot-the-name-of.
Pitch side French TV punditry – A laid back affair. Or maybe they employ pundits who know current players. Or maybe they get access to a better bit of the pitch pre-match. Anyway before one match the whole pre match analysis went to eff as Spanish players (various) came over to the pundits during the warm up and engaged in much hugging, badinage and by the looks of it some serious jokes regarding Pique’s beard. Heart-warming even though I didn’t understand a word. Who were Spain playing? Can’t remember.
German beer – That night I was in a German restaurant while Germany played. I wanted to keep in the spirit so drank this fantastic beer. Slightly incongruous – a traditional stein amongst the fine dining accoutrement, but no matter tasted great. I even saved the receipt so I could tell you what it was called. And when I find the receipt I will let you know.
The cockney rant – My hotel bar in France was full of Ingurland fans on the night before the Wales game. A mixture of those from the north and south they all bonded in a big, beery and blokey kind of a way. Until the northern group left and I was able to listen to one group of London boys express their true views of their country men, their likely abilities to survive in an unfortunate meeting with any Russians/French riot polis, and the fact that they would, “not be rescuing no northern monkeys from the gutter. And where do you think those ‘see you next tuesdays’ will be when it all kicks off. Particularly that ginger one. Who does he think he is? Tommy Tasty? Well he can effing forget it.”
The rogue ‘H’ – it has been pointed out to me by my linguistic adviser Mr TLF that my spelling of ‘hold tight’ was wrong. It is of course ‘old tight’. I forgot to drop me aitch.
Photos – there’s a couple of great ones from France. And when my iPad stops acting like Tommy Tasty (who he?) I will post them in a blog. I’d like to see the elephant do any better. Unless you are going to tell me that apart from never forgetting they are also good at IT.
A headline – There was no headline for the blog about Ingurland’s insipid draw with Slovakia. It just says Tuesday. You might have not noticed or you might have thought it was some clever post-modernist statement designed to indicate the bleakness of the mood de la TLF. Mais non. Pure incompetence. What had I come up with as a headline? Can’t remember. Ask the elephant.
Don’t worry. The football is back tomorrow. And all this will be a distant memory(!)
Les phrases francaises essentielles de TLF
I would rather stick hot needles in my eye.
Je preferais me couper un bras (I would rather cut my arm off)
Je preferais me couper un bras than listen to Robbie Savage