Francoise Prouzeau
/French Lesson
All right, you at the back there in driving goggles, what's the French for ambivalence? Don't know, do you? Thought you didn't. Got your nose immersed in some lurid pin-up magazine, I suppose? Don't care about French lessons, do you? Don't like my teaching methods, I suppose?
Don't like my face, probably. Rather have your French taught by some oo-la-la bird from Paris in a mini-skirt, of course. A lot of good that would do you.
Well, teacher had no sooner delivered himself of that irate piece than into the classroom walked the most fascinating oo-la-la shape from Paris, whose name was FRANCOISE PROUZEAU and whose smile sent the class reeling and knocked teacher cold.
Francoise was only on a very short visit to England, but my word (said teacher afterwards) she was the one person who could make that idle, incompetent class of mine sit up and listen. It didn't do them any good, though, I said it wouldn't. Now she's gone they just slump about and chew peanuts. By the way, headmaster, I'm getting a transfer to a college in Paris. Francoise is a student there. Here's my notice.
Spick No 176 - July 1968