During his sleepless nights, Jean Marie Bigard has taken pen to contact the dead, to God, to silence, to the Treasury, or the lie, one would have suspected, sex " You have done so much to return to the same place, like a pyromaniac fireman who is so turned on fire and you took off so listening only to your courage. You have braved the white discharge, fungal infections, congratulations you are my banner ... and let no one tell me bloody (...) We still looks more both, was more and more difficult to get up in the morning! ". Yes there are bit * s, c * of uilles and sal * pes in this book, of course, there are much worse and if it's possible, but there are also some poèsie a sensitivity, a sort of indefinable nostalgia that makes this book quite endearing. Thus, in his letter to France (! No less) we read:.. "You are the navel of the Old World when one moves away from you, all we miss I'm sorry for all the French who don ' not stop yelling. "
Yes in this book we read phrases like "the silence that follows a fart Bigard is still Bigard" and, addressing the horse, "Besides you're not even in the manger .. .de occasionally in lasagne ... ", so that we not taste or humor and prose of a man who wishes that we applaud his funeral and his coffin is encased sponsors the death he so loved: "J & B, Marlboro, and my dear Ricard of Bordeaux wines", this is a book that will delight fans and disgust allergic.
Jean Marie Welcome back!
CREW.KOOS
