A Damn Fine Fellow!

I am back! Did you not miss me? I know that you did! And I, as well, have missed you most amorously. For I am Antoine Bouvier! A rogue! A scoundral! And a damn fine fellow! But of course you knew of this all ready! For you no doubt have read my book many times over: A Rouge! A Scoundrel! And A Damn Fine Fellow! The Merriment I Have a Had with the Ladies! It is my story as I have lived it! And not one exaggeration, I assure you!

And I am back to tell of my outrageous escapades with a certain loutish thespian, who shall go unnamed, by the name of Gerard Depardieu! He is, as well, a Frenchman and a scoundrel, but he is most assuredly no damn fine fellow!

That honor belongs to Antoine Boviar! And to no one else! This Depardieu fellow knows only one thing! How to embarrass his one and only friend Antoine Boviar!

The incident I relate will be found in the book I am writing at this very moment! I will call it: Depardieu! The Wine-soaked Frenchman Who Breaks the Heart of Antoine Boviar!
It all began in the usual fashion with Depardieu and I sharing a quiet table and demanding the finest wine in all the world!

Waiter: Monsieur, would you care to see the fancy wine list?

Boviar!: No! Just bring us the finest wine in all the world!

Waiter: Right away, monsieur.

Depardieu: And a plump waiter for me to sit on. For this seat is quite unbearable. We will tip most handsomely if such arrangements can be made.

Boviar: Depardieu!

Depardieu: Monsieur?

Boviar: One does not sit on the waiters!

Waiter: He is correct, Monsieur. We are not to be sat on.

Depardieu: No? Very well. Then bring us the wine. And when we have had our belly full you will rue the day you have denied Depardieu one of his many pleasures!

And the scoundrel was true to his word, for after we had lapped up the last drop of the finest wine in all the world, it was time to give some relief to our many aching kidneys! I immediately headed for the cafe’s fancy toilet wherein dwells the keeper of the moist towelette, while Depardieu saw fit too water a nearby waiter named John-Michel!

“Boviar!”

“Depardieu! What is the meaning of this! How dare you read over the shoulder of Antoine Boviar while he writes the truth without so much as an exaggeration!! This is a private matter I assure you! Hey! Stop that! What is it you think you are doing, Depardieu!"

Dear reader, it is I, Gerard Depardieu, who is writing to you at this very moment. You see, my dear friend, Antoine Boviar has had a small accident with his type writer. It seems to have fallen on his much inflated head! But he will no doubt recover. And I will remain by his side until he has come to what is left of his senses and tells the truth about Gerard Depardieu and Antoine Boviar!
And that truth is being that Antoine Boviar is much in love with the loutish rouge Depardieu! But I, forever being the scallywag and lover of the ladies, do not reciprocate Monsieur Boviar’s advances!

Oh, this unrequited love is a most painful beast, I am much aware. And I have assured my dear friend that it is merely a school-boy fancy he has had on the ruggedly handsome Depardieu! He will no doubt get over it soon enough.

So rest assured, my dear good people, that when Antoine Boviar comes to I will knock into him some much needed sense!

Now, I wonder where Monsieur is keeping the corkscrew, as Depardieu has worked up quite the thirst! Once I have found it I will drink the toast to Boviar, and to you nice peoples for your kind indulgence!

Bon jour, fine peoples. Bon jour!