The French have contributed some wonderful things to our world. Probably. It is just that I can’t think of any right now.

Give me a minute.

No.

Still nothing.

Having just spent a week in Courchevel, my views on the French have not been greatly improved.

The wear ridiculous luminous one-piece ski-suits on the slopes, they do not queue for the ski-lifts, and they do not get out of my way quick enough when I’m about to fly off-piste like a fucking dart.

So many people return from holidays in love with the place that they have just visited. “Oh, I could live there”, is not an unusual statement to hear. I could not live in France. Really.

I am not going to make use of clichés about them eating cheese and surrendering at the first opportunity (though lets be honest, the only reason they joined the alliance in invading Iraq was to finally feel what it was like to win a war). It is just that I am finding it very hard to like them.

Several times a a frenchman cut across me in the queue for a lift up the mountain. Now, I do realise that us snowboarders are considered the poor relations to skiers on the piste, but we are very cool and this is all that matters. Having a board strapped to my feet does not give you the right to ski right across me, you utter bobble-hatted cunt. It is not like you were in a rush to burn some sheep and we were miles away from nearest port in need of a blockade.

Given these views, can someone explain to me why I have just agreed to go on another French snowboarding holiday in March?

Perhaps you could all give me a more balanced view of the pro’s and con’s of the French?

No?

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