In Which I Am Hazy on What Goes On in McDonald's

Here's a somewhat disjointed one, as somewhat disjointed is how I am feeling. One of the things I forgot to mention the other day was that whilst I was outside D's  waiting for him to evacuate his bowels, a kid came up to me, gave me the once over and asked me if I was waiting for somebody. "Yeah" I replied. "I thought you were" he replied. A pause. "D'you know anything about antiques?" This kid wasn't even taking the piss, it was a genuine question. "Erm, other than they're old, no." Hmm. I had a think about why the sprog would ask this. I mean, I was off to a driving range, which is probably quite an antique-y pursuit, but the urchin had no way of knowing that. The only possible explanation is that he is familiar with BBC evening programmes from the mid 80's and that I now dress like Lovejoy:

We are both, essentially, sex on a stick.

Another thing is that for some reason, my mind was drawn back to being taught French at secondary school. I remember being taught that the French called McDonald's McDo (I assume its counterpart is "Burger de la Republique"- I dunno, we were never taught about Burger King). That they abbreviate it to McDo is a bit rich, because even Americans aren't that lazy. Perhaps it's the French trying to be cool again. They often do that, but they try a little too hard. For example:

The French sit in the corners of McDonald's under a thick pall of Gauloises cigarette fog and ask each other existential questions, such as:

"Henri, if a Frenchman is in a forest and no-one is around to hear him, does he still make an arrogant noise?"

This is, of course, set to a miserable discordant French jazz soundtrack, something like this.

The English sit in the corners of McDonald's under a thick pall of Old Shag pipe fog and ask each other existential questions, such as:

"Henry, if the Duckworth-Lewis method is in a forest and no-one is around to not understand it, does it still make no sense?"

This is, of course, set to a happy plinky-plonky English jazz soundtrack, something like this.

I should probably state that it's been quite some time since I've been into a McDonald's and even longer since I've been in a McDo's, so the ravages of age may have caused me to be a bit blurry on some of the specifics. Still, that's about the flavour of it. My point, which I have so skillfully distracted myself from, was not that other people do things differently than us (pass the smelling salts, Marjorie!). It was rather that the GCSE syllabus deemed it necessary to teach us what a corporation's slightly different name is in another country. I mean, if you asked a Frenchman "Où est le McDonald's? Avec le jaune M?", they'd know what you were on about. I mean, they wouldn't tell you, because they're French, but they'd understand. There was no need to teach us this. What's next? Britain's youth being taught how to buy an X-Box in Germany? Or how to buy a Tizer in Spain? I don't like product placement at the best of times, but in a school it's utterly sickening. Physical Education- Just Do It. Drama and Theatre studies, the choice of a new generation. People who put adverts where there should be none are despicable, soulless cretins.

On an unrelated note, aren't Ginsters delicious?

Today's Tune