My birthday is over. It’s a fete accompli.
What constitutes a big breakfast? Well, in France, an egg is an oeuf to eat.
The pun about cross-breeding a cow with a French lamb? Now we’ve reached agneau low.
Eunuchs tend to be chivalrous. As the French say, ‘nob-less oblige’.
Suddenly I speak French. This is a Jacques to my system.
French hunters love grapefruit. It’s what lets them pump le moose.
A thirsty Frenchman is still quite soif.
Mr. T has no patience for beady-eyed French lunatics. As he says himself, “Oeil petit des foux”
I am a professional flatulence-connoisseur. I enjoy fartisan whines. I am, as the French say, a smmelier.