ANYONE who is in favour of us becoming more involved with our rather 'common rulers' in Brussels should be forced to go on an old age pensioners' trip to Paris.

What have we in common with people who pretend they do not understand English? This forces us to shout, until we become hoarse, and get arthritis of the finger through pointing at things we want to buy. Not that an OAP can buy very much, because everything is designer labelled, including the prices.

There is no common ground with people who charge £3 for a butty with something called fromage. And it doesn't even taste like jam or chips.

We have nothing in common with their breakfast which they call a 'cross aunt'. Even the most sainted sisters would be vexed at this puff pastry substitute for good old hot muesli and wheatbread toast.

Their way of getting around by Metro has nothing in common with proper folk. Only moles and Londoners burrow underground to travel around.

What have we in common with the French who called a ball game, fortunately played the day before we arrived, a World Cup?

Miss Rogerson or Mrs Fallon from St Richard's would have rightly called it a kick around in the park by some rough young boys.

In the days when rugby was played in Leigh, Benny Coffey, Beefy Fallon and Brian Brookes would have put this shirt tugging pat-a-cake acting in perspective.

On our second day the Parisians had a celebration called 'Pastille Day'. Seems that years ago the French king and queen wanted everyone to eat cake, and the angry toffee makers decided to lop off their heads. In those days they didn't have this common idea of giving English tax money to save French jobs.

The hotels have nothing in common with ours. They have one of those thingummies for washing your feet in the lavatory, like the Spanish places, but no list of dos and don'ts covering the bedroom door, and no reassuring time table of when the door is locked.

What is English about charging £2.30 for half a pint of beer, and another £1.50 if you sit down to drink it?

Food shops in Paris have nothing in common with ours. If our butchers, bakers and cheese makers displayed their goods straight on to the car exhaust laden streets they would be castigated and closed down. Councillors would write letters to local papers about their alien fotching up.

The major point of un-commonality we have with the French is that they have policemen on the streets, and walking them too. But I realise that the The in French police canteens cannot be as good as the tea in Chapel Street.

Desmond Fleming

Leigh

(Address supplied)

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.