French Gassing – A Full Confession.
'Allo, it is I, René Francois Artois!
It was I who was responsible for the recently 'gassed' family in their Motorhome, we in France call them Camping Cars, and I would like to make a full confession.
After the War I moved from my Café in the little village of Nouvion in Northern France to Bourges where I opened a new Café at a Motorway Service Station
My lovely wife Edith, Yvette and Mimi came with me to help and I was lucky to also have Lieutenant Gruber who cooks in the kitchen and goes to the Cash and Carry in his little tank.
The incident happened when a family from Derby stopped at my little café a few weeks ago and parked their Camping Car in the nearby Service Station car park.
They brought their own food with them into the Café and irritated me by not buying any of dear Gubers delightfully cooked produce.
They asked for my finest Red wine, I wasn't going to waste any of that on the tight fisted group, and they were given a few bottles of the worst vintage I could muster.
During their long drinking session one of the members of the Resistance heard something that they had mentioned, and she told me only once, the words 'Madonna' and 'big boobs'.
This of course brought back memories of the picture of 'The Fallen Madonna and the Big Boobies' by Van Klomp and its whereabouts because it hasn't been seen in decades and must now be worth a fortune.
Apparently they had a suitcase in the Camping Car with the possibility that the long lost painting was inside the case.
After they left my little Café in an alcohol induced state after drinking the rough, but expensively priced, wine I had so generously served we formed a plan to steal the suitcase and relieve them of the picture of the Madonna and the Big Boobies.
When everyone inside the vehicle, suffering from the after effects of my 'finest' wine, finally succumbed to sleep Gruber parked his ageing smoky exhaust emitting little tank next to the Camping Car.
He climbed on top of his little tank and lowered a hook on a rope through the open sky light of the Camping Car and, bless him, lifted the suitcase out without disturbing the slumbering occupants.
We hurried back to the Café and eagerly opened the case.
To our bitter disappointment the suitcase only contained a couple of Madonna DVDs, some sweaty shirts and a couple of bras that would have fitted Mama Cass - and not the picture we so dearly craved.
When the family came back to my café the next morning complaining about bad headaches and a stolen suitcase I immediately referred them to Officer Crabtree.
His grasp of French and English completely bemused them, their own Derbyshire accent nullifying Crabtrees attempt at sorting out the English version of the problem, and he directed them to our local Hospital for some headache relieving tablets.
Yvette and Mimi's daughters work as Nurses at the Hospital, and with my guidance and advice, both girls intimated that it was obviously Carbon Monoxide poisoning that had effected the six English and not the worst tasting and smelling wine that anyone could
possibly consume and get away without severe repercussions.
To my horror, and my horror has often been tested, the Derby family claimed around 2,000 of your English pounds for replacing the contents of the stolen suitcase.
I, Edith, and the two English airmen, who still haven't gone home despite frequent efforts to get rid of them, have trawled the Internet to find the real value of the contents and I'm afraid the optimistic estimate to be round €40 (£32) as most the items we
saw were either possibly pirated versions of the delightful Madonna's DVDs or poor quality shirts and bras bought from Derby market.
I admit my involvement in the crime that your Newspapers reported in chilling detail but feel I have truthfully put my side of the story and insist that normally we would only serve such appalling wine to those who are naïve, stupid or downright thick – and
that can't be you, can it?
Love from René and Edith and we hope to see you at Renés Café in the very near future.