This may be brief, as I'm writing on a truly shitty Hostel Internet Machine, the keyboard of which is apparently not meant for typing.
We are in Paris, the City of Not in English.
We came by way of London, where they get very pissy if you haven't got it entirely figured out how you're getting where you need to go. The passport inspection shrew was not happy that we were in her country with no escape plan. We showed her, though. We left.
We sailed from Dover, home of the White Cliffs with Shit All Over Them. And then we were in France, sounding like retarded children in our attempts at French. People have no patience. Bastards.
I'm off now, in search of a keyboard that causes less pain.
