The Delavigne Corporation

Did you get yours?

How are you spending your time on this Valentine's day? Is it by wooing your valentine on a candlelit dinner, while thinking the game's not worth the candle? Is it in a speed dating party at the pub where you cannot manage to get a catchy chat and make a hit with anybody? Is it by dancing in the local valentine ball and stumbling over your partner's feet? Is it by fucking in a back room with the easier bloke or gal hanging around, while feeling queasy? Is it by fishing on the internet, swallowing any story kook, line and sinker, but meeting just wry small fry? Is it by dreaming alone in your bed of a wetting groping party while jerking off?
If your fate resembles one of these, rush posthaste into the Delavigne blog. A witch going by the name of Samantha will put you on fire. To make it quick, give a hand to Jean Marron. Write down his waiving letter to Samantha. As an incentive extra bonus, you might win a T-shirt promised by Jean himself. Between you and me, nobody knows if Icarus has budgeted for that shirt. That's why you must be careful. Yes indeed, listen to this breaking news about the local VW manager.
As VW plant in my country (which is not Germany) had to cut jobs by a thousand, they made a proposal to workers who would volunteer to get fired. Each of them was offered a VW polo. They just had to fill in a form whose last line got reading: “Specify the size and whether you want long or short sleeves.” What about the GymGlish t-shirt? Isn't it the tip they are used to sprinkle with fragrance to make customers smell? Be careful.


  • Yes, lucky pal, I'd like to help the poor Jean who is used to being the laughing stock of any episode he shows up. But as Philip Cheeter has got two thumbs-up about lining in a blog, I got a thumb-down so far.

    By the way, aren't they French learners here at the GymGlish? If I were French, I would be ashamed to be featured in the story as they are featuring the sole French citizen playing in the Delavigne saga. I can't understand how all French learners don't go on strike.
  • I loved your "reality story" about the VW polo, Lucky bastard. ("reality story" rather than "reality joke", after "reality show"). I think you had had better to specify that you spoke about a polo shirt. The term of polo is an everyday one in most European languages but English, who says "polo shirt", I think.

    It is a real story indeed as every carmaker around the world is now forced to reduce production. They lean the machine and by leaning so much the mixture of the engine, it comes to choke. By choking, the VW polo shrinks and shrinks to the point of getting small an short. From a short polo to a polo shirt, it's not farther than a mere letter.

    Now let's get back to our main point, the t-shirt promised by Jean. When T-shirts came on sale for the first time after WWII, they were T-shirts featuring a T that showed up the body and two sleeves. As everything gets fading bit by bit as it gets used in the everyday life, the T-shirt sometimes came as a tee-shirt or merely a t-shirt, if not a tea-shirt as it was the case for Jean. Take my word for it. Jean was dreaming of a tea on the Valentine's day, a tea for two, two for tea, the two being not himself with the jilted Sammie, but himself with his new girlfriend. As a wise man I know that when they dump their partner, it's that they have a spare-part(ner) on the side. Who is Jean's spare-part? That's to be unveiled yet.

    Now, what I absolutely want to say, it's that we had a high time with Jean's dumping his valentine. For once, that French character, rigged out with a Chestnut of a surname, wasn't so much ridiculous. (Be you a mere nut or a chestnut, you are a nut anyway.) There was a spell of good time in the perdurating mockery atmosphere.
    It was a funny funky Valentine's day. Thanks and congratulations to the authors.

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