Remi: The most French man in the world.

Remi is the most French man in the world. And he doesn’t care. So that makes him even Frencher.

Remi does not like French people. Or people generally. He calls most of them bitches. We watched the first half of the World Cup final on a cobbled street craning to see the TV screen over the heads of drunk fourteen year olds. At half time Remi announced ‘I’m so over it Celina” and we left. Instead we wandered the streets rolling our eyes whenever the city roared in unison.

Remi smokes constantly. He buys croissants and baguettes every morning for breakfast and makes coffee on the stove. He drives a Smart. He is waiting for his mum to die so he can inherit her book collection. He is a socialist but hates the socialists. He got me off a train fine by pretending he was trying to pick me up and that the conductor was interrupting sleazy French love. And I am not allowed anywhere near any of his cooking utensils.



And he has just shaved himself a moustache. Mainly to annoy his girlfriend, my best friend, but also because it is a moustache. And because he is the Frenchest man ever.