Qatar, conflict in Ukraine, Agricultural Show… Régis Mailhot’s week | EUROtoday

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EAnother stunning week of absurdity, my little refractory Gauls. Tuesday, the prince of Qatar was invited to the Élysée. Certainly an actual property go to, the Élysée Palace being one of many uncommon previous buildings within the Parisian golden triangle which has not but handed below Persian possession.

The Qataris, our favourite Muslim brothers, are a part of the VIP circle of migrants. Those who set down their suitcases in France solely for the aim of visiting their second dwelling. Generally Haussmannian thermal strainers, primarily positioned between Parc Monceau, Avenue Montaigne and the Champ de Mars. In quick, Rachida Dati's well being journey.

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Invited to share Tuc with beluga by our president, the Qatari emir dedicated, after a frugal chat between well-dressed associates, to take a position 10 billion by 2030 in our stunning economic system of earlier than -war. Ten billion, that's all that Manu the intelligent managed to extract from our Persian patron. That is 625 million per 12 months, barely sufficient to make sure the match bonuses of the following Parisian “Messi” (excluding employer contributions).

Ten billion just isn’t dangerous! I do know that Doha just isn’t supposed to welcome all of the distress on the earth, however might Al-Thani be Qatar's claw? As they are saying at Bercy, we can’t each rearm Ukraine and pay to your gasoline on the value of Don Pérignon.

Macron goes to conflict!

“Sending ground troops to Ukraine should not be ruled out. » Oh the ball, oh the missile… Barely weaned from his debacle at the Porte de Versailles, Jupiter sends us to the Russian front. Never let a president speak to the press the day after a visit to the Agricultural Show… We do not sufficiently appreciate the euphoric effect of certain slow-fermenting local beverages on overly irrigated brains. One bucket too many and a cannon goes off! Exactly one month after the call for demographic rearmament, the call for general mobilization! We finally understand Gabriel Attal's impatience to generalize the uniform at school as quickly as possible.

Our president has a warmongering passion. After declaring war on Covid and its army of anti-vaxxers, Jupiter wants to tackle the Russian variant. Molo, Manu! Putin is not Francis Lalanne, nor Gégé33antisysteme. You don't challenge a gentleman who has a tiger as a pet. He's an impulsive Vladimir, he has the easy red button, and in terms of energy sobriety, we feel that he is not two degrees off.

Furthermore, dear Jupiter, and without offending your narcissus, but according to the latest inventory of stocks, what we lack most in France, to launch a military offensive, is an army. According to some, we have at most a week's worth of ammunition… Unless we requisition Alain Delon's home where, this week, 72 firearms and more than 3,000 rounds of ammunition were seized, I don't see any short-term solution. In 1815, Grouchy, who left in vain to pursue the Prussians, caused the defeat of Napoleon. For the salvation of the nation, I shout it loud and clear: everyone to Douchy!

Even the tongue of wood tastes like wine

The 60e Salon de l'Agriculture closes the enclosure, Gaviscon packaging litters the cycle paths of the Porte de Versailles. Tired, the Massey Fergussons head back to the country, feet to the ceiling, prices to the floor, and illusions in the Caterpillars. At the corner of the boulevard, a bobo-urbiculturist, in a Véja sneaker and an electric scooter stickered “Consumption consumes us”, breathes: “We will finally be able to go to the citizen vegetable garden and empty our compost box without encountering these barbarians. »

A haggard parliamentary attaché, with wrinkled slim pants and milky eyes, searches for his Navigo pass while retweeting the language element of a walking boat. Here, even the tongue of wood tastes like wine. A very special thought for Oreillette, the bovine mascot of this edition, who will return to her beautiful Normandy with her eardrums damaged from electoral promises and her rump more tanned than an exhibition sofa at Cuir Center.

In a week, “Salon Baby”, the occasion for future and younger dad and mom, will open in the identical place. No politicians are anticipated. France is the one democracy on the earth the place, to be elected, it’s higher to stroke the ass of a cow than to kiss the brow of a toddler. You miss a rump, you lose an election. Can not await subsequent 12 months.

* Régis Mailhot is a French humorist and columnist, identified and acknowledged for his sharp pen, his freedom of tone and spirit, in addition to his comedian effectiveness. Stage, radio, tv, the person we nicknamed the soiled child of humor has been on all fronts for nearly twenty years. A profitable stage man and writer of satirical works, this troublemaker was revealed within the radio present “Le Fou du roi” on France Inter, and devoted for 9 seasons on RTL along with his morning temper posts, and the midday alongside Stéphane Bern. It can also be rife in Paris Première's cult comedy present, “La Revue de presse”.