You did very, very well, Paulcy. But I con do better.
a-hem...
I unclog my nose in your direction, sons of a window dresser. So, you think you could outclever us french folks with your silly, knees-bent, running-about, advancing behavior? I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy-leather, second-hand, electric donkey bottom biters.
English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing; you tiny brained wipers of other peoples’ bottoms.
Now do away before I . . .
(well you know the drill)