Merde In Europe

THE POST-BREXIT EDITION - brand new chapters with extra EU chaos for Englishman Paul West. An Englishman, Paul West, goes to Brussels to work for a French MEP. There he gets an insider's view of what really goes on in the massive madhouse that is the EU Parliament. With the referendum on the horizon, things are even more hysterical than usual. When the Brexit result comes in, Paul has to make a decision. If he wants to work in Europe, should he apply for a French passport? But can an Englishman really become French? Can he sing the bloodthirsty 'Marseillaise'? Can he even pronounce the word 'Marseillaise'? And as Paul contemplates his own personal Brexit, the whole of Brussels seems to be going into meltdown ...

Self-published in France, and a subsequent bestseller, the hilarious story of a year in the life of a young Englishman abroad. Paul West, a young Englishman, arrives in Paris to start a new job - and finds out what the French are really like. They do eat a lot of cheese, some of which smells like pigs' droppings. They don't wash their armpits with garlic soap. Going on strike really is the second national participation sport after pétanque. And, yes, they do use suppositories. In his first novel, Stephen Clarke gives a laugh-out-loud account of the pleasures and perils of being a Brit in France. Less quaint than A Year in Provence, less chocolatey than Chocolat, A Year in the Merde will tell you how to get served by the grumpiest Parisian waiter; how to make perfect vinaigrette every time; how to make amour - not war; and how not to buy a house in the French countryside.

This international bestseller from the author of A Year in the Merde “combines the gaffes of Bridget Jones with the boldness of James Bond” (Publishers Weekly). When the glorious oceanographer Gloria Monday convinces Paul West to travel to the swank beaches of southern France—where she’s investigating caviar-smuggling cartels—he assumes he’s about to have the time of his life. But for West, France has always been full of surprises underfoot, and this trip is no exception to the rule. He’s soon dragged into an undercover investigation that goes all the way to the top and leaves him feeling sometimes like James Bond, sometimes like Inspector Clouseau. Dial M for Merde is a comic caper that pokes fun at French society at every level, from pompous politicians to grumpy waitstaff.

Englishman Paul West is living the Parisian dream, and doing his best not to annoy the French. But recently things have been going très wrong: He's stuck in an apartment so small that he has to cut his baguettes in two to fit them in the kitchen. His research into authentic French cuisine is about to cause a national strike - and it could be all his fault. His Parisian business partner is determined to close their tea-room. And thinks that sexually harrassing his female employees is a basic human right. And Paul's gorgeous ex-girlfriend seems to be stalking him. Threatened with eviction, unemployment and bankrupcy, Paul realises that his personal merde factor is about to hit the fan...

The English Channel may be only twenty miles wide, but it’s a thousand years deep. Stephen Clarke takes a penetrating look into those murky depths, guiding us through all the times when Britain and France have been at war - or at least glowering at each other across what the Brits provocatively call the English Channel. Along the way he explodes a few myths that French historians have been trying to pass off as ‘la vérité’, as he proves that the French did not invent the baguette, or the croissant, or even the guillotine, and would have taken the bubbles out of bubbly if the Brits hadn’t created a fashion for fizzy champagne.Starting with the Norman (not French) Conquest and going right up to the supposedly more peaceful present, when a state visit by French President Nicolas Sarkozy becomes a series of hilarious historical insults, it is a light-hearted - but impeccably researched - account of all our great fallings-out. In short, the French are quite right to suspect that the last thousand years have been one long British campaign to infuriate them. And it’s not over yet ...

"A brilliant account of the politics of shit. It will leave you speechless." Written in Paris after the heady days of student revolt in May 1968 and before the devastation of the AIDS epidemic, History of Shit is emblematic of a wild and adventurous strain of 1970s' theoretical writing that attempted to marry theory, politics, sexuality, pleasure, experimentation, and humor. Radically redefining dialectical thought and post-Marxist politics, it takes an important—and irreverent—position alongside the works of such postmodern thinkers as Foucault, Deleuze, Guattari, and Lyotard. Laporte's eccentric style and ironic sensibility combine in an inquiry that is provocative, humorous, and intellectually exhilarating. Debunking all humanist mythology about the grandeur of civilization, History of Shit suggests instead that the management of human waste is crucial to our identities as modern individuals—including the organization of the city, the rise of the nation-state, the development of capitalism, and the mandate for clean and proper language. Far from rising above the muck, Laporte argues, we are thoroughly mired in it, particularly when we appear our most clean and hygienic. Laporte's style of writing is itself an attack on our desire for "clean language." Littered with lengthy quotations and obscure allusions, and adamantly refusing to follow a linear argument, History of Shit breaks the rules and challenges the conventions of "proper" academic discourse.

The idea is simple: in a few sentences, people describe the various moments that have ruined their day. From the sublime and ridiculous to the truly mortifying, these snapshot anecdotes are all 100 per cent genuine, and very, very funny. 'Today, my mother and I got into a huge fight about me being a lesbian. It ended with me saying "Fuck you!" to which she responded, "I bet you'd probably like to!" FML' 'Today, I was volunteering at a nursing home and I was calling bingo numbers. One woman stood up and started making noises. I assumed she had won and I started clapping. She then fell on the floor and died of a heart attack. I essentially applauded her death. FML' 'Today, I fell asleep. I felt something on my face. I batted it away. It was my hamster. It died from hitting the wall. FML' 'Today, my girlfriend dumped me proclaiming she wanted someone more like her "Edward". I asked her who Edward was. She held up a copy of her Twilight book. She was talking about a fictional vampire. FML' 'Today, I went to the doctor with my parents. When the doctor asked if I was sexually active, I said, "Yes." My mom laughed and said, "Good one." My dad, for added effect, said, "Your hand doesn't count." FML'