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The content below is not suitable for under 18’s due to the language used – well, it’s a scene with Jesse so what do you expect!! And this is not a heart-warming scene by any stretch!
BONUS SCENE FROM THREE FAT SINGLETONS
Although she would never admit it, upon arriving at Gare du Nord station in Paris Jesse had made a decision that she didn’t like Paris, not one little bit. By the time her and Dotty had crossed the busy road to get on the right side to hail a taxi Jesse admitted she positively hated it so far. Dotty was oblivious of the several strange men stood stationary watching their every move. Jesse was seriously spooked and slightly scared, something she didn’t feel often, but the feelings were pushing her into a panic while taxi upon taxi passed them by without stopping.
A tall black male in a long leather trench coat had started to saunter towards them on the pavement just as a taxi pulled up, thank fuck Jesse muttered as she threw her suitcase into the boot and jumped into the back seat. The journey to their hotel was stiflingly hot as the taxi had no air conditioning and it smelled of mature cheese, the result being they arrived at their shabby hotel with Jesse feeling a bit green.
The hotel was in a residential area. `Not exactly buzzing like the brochure said Dotty’ Jesse mumbled. `No, but I’m sure Montmartre is just up there.’ Dotty pointed hopefully towards a road running between a row of grey buildings. `Let’s dump our suitcases off and go for some tea!’ Said Dotty excitedly. Jesse let Dotty do the talking at reception but was annoyed to find their rooms weren’t adjacent to one another; in fact Dotty was on an entirely different floor to Jesse. Jesse’s mood didn’t improve when she realised she couldn’t open her room door fully as the bed was in the way. It did have a toilet and shower tucked next to the wardrobe, although it was the strangest toilet she had ever seen. She wondered, if she did a poo, whether it would just sit naked and steaming on the ceramic until she flushed. She worried about this for a while as she emptied her suitcase, as she knew once the Diocalm wore off she would be visiting it and had once before had a toilet flood on her room in Barbados after having lost her lunch in it, which was one of the most mortifying events she’d experienced to date. The big jovial caretaker had come into her suite whistling happily in his yellow dungarees, and even from Jesse’s hiding place on her balcony she could hear him heave twice and he didn’t look in her direction as he left the suite twenty minutes later.
Jesse groaned at the thought but pushed it aside when Dotty banged on her room singing `Come on Jesse, let’s go and get some cheese and wine!’. They walked for more than twenty minutes before coming across a café which looked welcoming enough for Jesse to enter. The short walk had further added to her belief that Paris was indeed a pile of crap. Jesse was stunned to see so many dogs everywhere, nearly every person had some form of four-legged friend, but obviously hadn’t heard of poop-a-scoop as the pavements were littered with faeces. The buildings were grey, the air was polluted, the people looked miserable as they went about their day-to-day business, and it stank to high heaven.
Jesse and Dotty both had talked about cheese and wine for most of the Eurostar journey so had got a hunger on them, only Jesse was very disappointed with the Brie and Stilton presented to her with dry bread, no butter and no chutney, and the wine was sweet rather than dry.
`Fucking hell, Sainsbury’s is better than this!’ Jesse said after taking her first bite.
`I know what you mean, I’m really disappointed’ Dotty agreed. `Still, we’ll find somewhere lovely to eat tonight and we’ll do some shopping and visit Sacré-Coeur’.
`Okay, sounds like a plan’. Jesse had already written Paris off but really wanted to have a good time with Dotty as it was the first time they’d ever been away for a weekend just the two of them. It had been a spontaneous suggestion, made just four days previous by Dotty, and here they were. They didn’t stay long in the café and made their way through the relatively empty streets, with no real plan or direction in mind. They drew a lot of attention as they walked down the streets, browsing in windows and generally trying to get a feel for the place. Dotty was wearing her pea green jacket and Jesse was wearing black leather, both blondes wore huge sunglasses, regardless of the grey skies, and they stood out a mile. They giggled as three men inside a butcher’s shop started to sing `sex bomb, sex bomb’ to them as they passed them in the street. Neither one had heard the Tom Jones rendition so were impressed that they all sang in tune.
Jesse found the shops uninviting and was disappointed that she hadn’t bought anything by the end of the day, although she was stunned by the beautiful lingerie she had seen. She was wistful as she looked at endless pieces of lace and satin, knowing full well she’d never be able to fit into any of them. The nearest they came to the Eiffel Tower was stood atop the Marks & Spencer building, where they grabbed two Chinese tourists and asked them to take their photograph; the tower looked like it was stood atop Dotty’s shoulder.
Dotty was sure that never in history had anyone spent less than thirty minutes in the Louvre, but that’s exactly what they did. Later, when Jesse told Mary the story, she admitted that if it wasn’t for not being able to find the exit, they may have done it in twenty. The art bored Jesse to tears, she was amazed that there was no real modern art to speak of and the queue for the Mona Lisa was worse than the Primark winter sale. Both Dotty and Jesse stood gazing at the enigmatic portrait for a short while; long enough to realise they couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about and headed off looking for the exit.
The highlight of the day was ice cream in Ben & Jerry’s and they were back at the hotel by 6pm getting dressed for dinner. If Dotty would have gone for it Jesse would have paid for them to get on a plane and head back to England that evening. She hated Paris.
`It’s like bloody Brixton Dotty. It’s disgustingly dirty. The men are awful. I know I can’t speak French but bloody hell, they don’t make it easy for you do they?’ Jesse moaned.
`I don’t understand it Jesse. I normally love Paris, this is my ninth time here, but you’re right, it’s awful.’ Dotty agreed. `Let’s make the best of it though and enjoy tonight and tomorrow we’ll do Notre Dame and Sacré-Coeur before we head home.’
`Okay, do you want to book a restaurant or have a wander around?’
`Let’s have a wander and see what we can find near the hotel.’ Suggested Dotty.
Thirty minutes later they found themselves looking at a menu they couldn’t understand in a dark side street almost opposite their hotel. The restaurant looked busy but the chairs were robust so Dotty would be okay, the lighting was soft and there were candles on the tables. One thing they had found strange so far was all the restaurants they’d looked at were devoid of atmosphere, hence their return journey back to this restaurant, which was the first they had spotted half an hour previous on leaving their hotel.
Dotty made the decision for them when she opened the door and indicated with two fingers that she’d like a table. They were taken to the furthest table at the back of the restaurant, right next to the kitchen. It was a smoking table so Jesse was happy, and Dotty was okay as it was a large table with huge wooden chairs. They were also near the toilets so she wouldn’t have to interrupt other diners to get to them throughout the evening.
Dotty ordered a bottle of Sancerre but that was as far as they got without running into trouble.
`I have absolutely no idea what any of this is!‘ Jesse whispered. `Well, this is pollo so I think that’s chicken, but I don’t know what it’s cooked in. Poisson is fish I think, but I can’t eat that anyway. What shall we do?’
`I don’t know, but whatever we have it’s going to be bloody expensive. Have you seen these prices?‘
`Well, let’s hope it’s nice hey. Anyway, cheers to a shit time in Paris!’ Dotty raised her glass and Jesse touched hers to Dotty’s and said `Amen’.
To their horror the waitress didn’t speak a word of English, and nor did anyone else in the restaurant. So far they had gotten away with Dotty speaking English in a French accent, but that wasn’t going to pass here. Dotty had spots of bright red on her cheeks when the waitress went into a long dialogue whist all the time Dotty muttered `Oui, oui’. The waitress realised very quickly that the girls didn’t understand a word of what she had just said, and a look of panic crossed her face. She put her hands up to indicate to the girls she’d be back and went and conferred with three other people, all shaking their heads and looking worriedly towards the girls.
Eventually the waitress came back with her pad and pen and said `oui?’ They were on their own. Dotty in a moment of madness smiled at the waitress and said `Recommendez-vous?’and the waitress disappeared. Thirty seconds later a very large man in a chef’s hat entered the restaurant and stood at their table. He told them the ingredients of three dishes; they only knew this as he was indicating with his fingers that he had moved to the next dish. He went on and on and on excitedly, obviously delighting in his recommendations, while Jesse bit the inside of her cheek and never looked up from her menu for fear of laughing out loud with embarrassment. Dotty muttered `Oui, oui, yum, yum’ with a small smile on her face. The silence was deafening when the chef had obviously asked which dish they would like to have and neither Dotty or Jesse had any idea what he had been talking about. After a very long pause, `Recommendez-vous’ Dotty ventured again and the waitress and chef looked at each other, he with raised eyebrows, hers furrowed, and they left their table in silence.
The girls were debating whether to just leave the restaurant an hour later when all they had been given was bread sticks to go with their second bottle of Sancerre. Jesse was on her fifth glass of wine when the kitchen doors opened and the waitress appeared with the chef again, this time both carrying armfuls of food.
In all there were 7 dishes placed in front of the girls, chicken and fish were recognisable, and they could see one was a potato dish, the rest they had no idea about but smiled thankfully and repeated ‘merci’ at least ten times until the waitress left. There was enough food to feed four hungry people, but two hungry fatties did a fine job. The food was outstanding. Jesse kept saying, this has saved the trip Dotty, saved the trip this has, as they both happily savoured every dish. They had finished a third bottle of wine when the bill arrived. Jesse was deliriously pissed and Dotty was not far behind, the bill seemed trivial and an 80 Euro tip was left by Jesse. Both girls hugged and kissed the bewildered staff as they left the restaurant three hours after they had entered, and staggered into the cold night air of Paris.
Just thirty paces to the left of the restaurant Jesse walked into a little bar, filled with smoke and working class French men, and ordered a bottle of wine. Dotty was most uncomfortable sat in this grotty bar with all eyes upon them. There was no music and the floor looked like it hadn’t seen a mop in at least a week. Jesse was oblivious to her surroundings while she sat merrily sipping her wine and shelling pistachio after pistachio from the wooden bowl that was on the table. Half an hour later, after Jesse had chatted up the female bartender, Dotty persuaded her to leave and cross to their hotel.
When she awoke in the morning Jesse had no recollection of having phone sex with her next door neighbour Jimmy and wondered what on earth she had eaten to leave such a horrid stench coming from the bathroom. She laughed out loud when she realised that her coiled mountain of poo was still sat in the French toilet stinking up the place looking like a delivery of Cumberland sausages. She roared with laughter when she revealed to Dotty over breakfast that she’d purposefully left it there without flushing to ensure the maid reaped what she had sown when she decided to not change her towels the previous day.
They grabbed a taxi to Notre Dame as they had no way of knowing how to get there on foot after the previous day’s disaster of trying to find Montmartre to no avail. The architecture spoke to Jesse and the atmosphere struck a chord with Dotty. They wandered around the building separately and enjoyed the huge stained glass windows. When they left Jesse decided the queue had been worth it, and it had been a nice morning after all. For some reason known to neither girl, they stopped in a café at 11am and had a glass of wine and some pastries. The top-up of alcohol from the previous evening pushed both girls over the edge and by 12 noon they were sat in a churchyard in France, sprawled across a wooden bench laughing loudly and generally being silly. They asked tourist upon tourist to take their photos, nearly all of which they poked their tongues out for and eventually had to leave as Jesse thought she would wet herself if anyone else tutted at them.
By five o’clock they were sitting in a cafe which they thought was predominantly a karaoke bar, ordering ribs. Less than an hour later they were in the street trying desperately to get a taxi as they realised that the bar was indeed karaoke, but it was in the red light district so hardcore porn was playing on the many screens behind the words that nobody sang to, and they were the only females in the bar.
`So this is the Moulin Rouge’ Jesse had time to ponder before the long-awaited taxi came to save them.
…. xxx ….