Salutations de la terre d’ail à l’haleine, au vin rouge et aux jambes de grenouilles! That’s right we have actually reached the South of France, although quite how McKelvey’s clapped out banger made it to the Chunnel, let alone the other 608.9 miles is beyond me. Still, we are here now, and I have to tell you, things are already hotting up nicely.
So, the village we are staying in looks just like the one in that film, Chocolat, and I do fancy myself as rather more fuller-figured – and blonder – version of Carrie-Anne Moss… All I need now is Brad Pitt to turn up on a barge and my holiday will be complete.
It probably won’t surprise you to hear that McKelvey seems to be spending most of his time in the village bar, downing cassis like it is going out of fashion. He has even perfected the five-day stubble look, donned a flat cap and started smoking Gallois to blend in with the locals.
If only I had so much free time. Of course, this being a busman’s holiday, I am…er, working my arse off for a change, and checking out how the French direct marketing industry is faring.
In fact, I had only just got through the front door and the phone rang. In my best French accent – courtesy of the gorgeous Pierre – I answered, and was greeted by the salutation: “Bonjour mademoiselle, je m’appelle François, et je travaille pour une entreprise double vitrage local. Seriez-vous intéressé par une estimation?”
That’s double-glazing companies for you…they get everywhere.
Thing is, François’ accent was so sexy I couldn’t help myself, so I booked in an appointment straightaway, at which point he sent me a highly personalised email, complete with an amazing picture of himself, “on the job” so to speak. Well, installing windows.
Anyway, he is so keen to seal the deal that he is coming round tonight to measure me up – as well as give me an estimate. And, what I hear you ask, has this got to do with direct marketing? Well, dear readers, it just goes to show, French telemarketing techniques are way ahead of ours. Nuisance call? Bah. If only we had more people like François’ manning the phones back home, no-one would ever want to be on the Telephone Preference Service.
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