The hunchback of Paris

When I was a child, I was a voracious reader, particularly captivated by swashbuckling tales. One of my favorite authors was Paul Féval, whose thrilling adventures kept me spellbound for hours.

Eddy Pay

His greatest triumph in the genre was Le Bossu (1857), which features the legendary swordsman Henri de Lagardère. Disguised as a hunchback, Lagardère sets out to avenge his friend, the Duke de Nevers, who was murdered by the villainous Prince de Gonzague. The novel gave us the mémorable motto: « Si tu ne viens pas à Lagardère, Lagardère ira à toi! » (“If you don’t come to Lagardère, Lagardère will come to you!”)

Lagardère was a dashing and deadly swordsman, feared by powerful enemies who relentlessly hunted him, hoping to silence him forever. Yet, as a gifted contortionist, he often hid beneath the guise of a humble hunchback, melting back into the shadows once his mission was complete. He was the consummate swashbuckler: courteous, daring, and deadly.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I was at the local pétanque field, watching my friends clash in friendly matches, when I couldn’t help but notice the skill of Eddy Pay. Just like Lagardère, he stepped into the arena when needed, carried out his precise and deadly work, and quietly withdrew once his task was done.

Yesterday, he was simply amazing, with a 95% accuracy rate. And what makes him truly admirable is his humility. No boasting or theatrics—just quietly getting the job done and fading into the background. Some call him the “silent killer” or “the silver cobra,” but to me, he is the epitome of a great pétanque player: efficient, modest, and gracious.

Three cheers for Eddy Pay—an extraordinary athlete and a very nice fellow to boot!

Alain

“A different language is a different vision of life.” – Federico Fellini

Speaking a foreign language has always been a valuable asset. It expands your worldview—and occasionally lets you pick up things you weren’t exactly meant to understand… like hot stock tips muttered at a bar or whispered military secrets over a crackling walkie-talkie.

Today, English reigns supreme, with roughly 1.52 billion people around the globe speaking it. It’s the go-to language for business, science, technology, diplomacy, and for asking rather urgently where the nearest restroom is.

In fact, no matter where you land on the planet, chances are someone will speak some form of English. It may not be good English, but who cares if it gets you a sandwich and a toilet?

Now, there’s a delightful flip side to all this linguistic unity: sometimes, not understanding one another has its perks. As the old French saying goes:
« Toute vérité n’est pas toujours bonne à dire. »
Not all truths are always good to tell.
Especially when those truths might trigger an international incident—or a marital meltdown.

You see, diplomacy often lies in the artful omission. You don’t have to lie; you can just pretend you didn’t catch what your wife said in the heat of the moment. “Sorry, dear, must’ve been the static on your tone.”

It’s a tactic. A survival tactic.

Interestingly, the U.S. divorce rate—still hovering between 40% and 50% for first marriages—has been gently declining. Coincidence? Or could it be that couples now bond across linguistic lines and just can’t argue properly?

Consider this: a Danish man marries a Filipina woman. Neither speaks the other’s language, but they both know just enough English to order food, ask for directions, and say, “I’m fine” through clenched teeth.

Their entire relationship floats on the limited vocabulary of global English. Misunderstandings are inevitable, but luckily, they remain largely… incomprehensible. And that, my friends, is what keeps the peace.

One of the greatest perks of this international arrangement? You can vent endlessly to your friends in your native tongue about your spouse without sparking a nuclear conflict at home. You might blow off steam, but no one gets blown up.

So let us embrace a common language for peace and harmony—and leave war to those who still barely communicate by smoke signals.

Alain

Feeling a Bit Blue? Call a Friend.

« Que sont mes amis devenus
Que j’avais de si près tenus
Et tant aimés
Ils ont été trop clairsemés
Je crois le vent les a ôtés… »

“What has become of my friends
Whom I held so close
And loved so much
They have been too few and far between
I think the wind has taken them away…”

Recently, feeling a bit weary, I picked up the phone and called a friend, inviting him to lunch.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m a little tied up right now. Maybe another time…”

No worries, I thought. I know plenty of people who’d be happy to chew the fat with me. So, undeterred, I made a few more calls.
Same story—different excuses: too busy, too far, not feeling great, on a diet, not in the mood, or just missing in action.

And then it hit me: we’re on a very slippery slope when we start refusing human contact.
Schmoozing—yes, simple, aimless conversation—is what keeps us connected. Break that link, and we begin to drift… emotionally, mentally, even physically. Without companionship, the risk of loneliness, depression, and worse creeps in.

A cup of coffee costs far less than a session with a shrink—and can be just as effective at lifting the blues. And here’s the magic: it works both ways. Helping a friend feels good. That little dose of kindness is contagious—just like germs, only much nicer. When you support someone, you’re helping yourself too.

Over the years, I’ve had a few close friends. But time, distance, health—or just the randomness of life—got in the way, and I lost touch with some. I regret that.

So, if you have friends, nurture your friendships. Don’t let them wither and fade. Life means very little if you don’t have someone to share a laugh with or to chase the blues away.

“Life is nothing without friendship.” — Marcus Tullius Cicero

Alain