I have a confession to make.
Two, actually; possibly more, depending on how much grief you want to give me.
Firstly, I went to France last weekend. Voluntarily.
Well, I’m possibly doing myself an injustice and putting my head under the guillotine; I went to a good chum’s wedding, and she had not only agreed to marry a Frenchman (known between us as “the French Idiot” on the basis that they all are), but agreed to do the deed over there.
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