A diamond of social cruelty. A pure laugh.
Back from holiday in Spain (I know that I do not care but it makes me happy) I wanted, first and foremost, to deliver this pure moment of happiness.
Comedian
Desproges is known by everyone for his famous radio Tribunal indictments Flagrants Crazy alongside Luis Rego. Before being taken away too soon by cancer by storm, the most cynical of brilliant minds, the finest detective satire burlesque gave us a detective novel. Yes, officer. The evocative title to boot.
Women are decimated in a small village. The investigation is in full swing.
The pitch is well done. It is difficult to summarize Desproges. As far as the comment elsewhere. It remains only to give way. Whether we like it or not humor - Dark, cynical, caustic, borderline, sardonic - no one can deny the power of his words, the power of his images.
For those who do not know, and exceptionally like Gael, I will deliver the opening pages, the incipit for the purists, this pearl:
"Adeline Serpillon belonged to the overwhelming that most mortals barely assassinate.
She had no money, no love, no hatred, no attractions. His political beliefs led him to shout down gently increases in gas prices, but rarely beyond. She was of medium intensity with more than a common grave, and a full banality of nougat Montelimar. Apart from the soft gray cat who was sleeping on his bed, no one turned it on, much less below. For forty years, she was shrinking with little steps behind the counter of polished wood of his haberdashery that smelled of honey and fresh sawdust, without anyone ever take her in the act of good or bad mood. (...)
Thus it seemed unlikely everyone Serpillon Adeline died one day murdered.
However, on 9 May, the bus driver Nontron, who indulged his son and common buttons, found on the floor sewing in her display. Despite the large carving knife which had been bled white by punching plexus to the navel, and stood there in his belly sad, she kept in the death of the air con saleswomen measuring the elastic pants. "
A great moment of jubilation.
Back from holiday in Spain (I know that I do not care but it makes me happy) I wanted, first and foremost, to deliver this pure moment of happiness.
Comedian
Desproges is known by everyone for his famous radio Tribunal indictments Flagrants Crazy alongside Luis Rego. Before being taken away too soon by cancer by storm, the most cynical of brilliant minds, the finest detective satire burlesque gave us a detective novel. Yes, officer. The evocative title to boot.
Women are decimated in a small village. The investigation is in full swing.
The pitch is well done. It is difficult to summarize Desproges. As far as the comment elsewhere. It remains only to give way. Whether we like it or not humor - Dark, cynical, caustic, borderline, sardonic - no one can deny the power of his words, the power of his images.
For those who do not know, and exceptionally like Gael, I will deliver the opening pages, the incipit for the purists, this pearl:
"Adeline Serpillon belonged to the overwhelming that most mortals barely assassinate.
She had no money, no love, no hatred, no attractions. His political beliefs led him to shout down gently increases in gas prices, but rarely beyond. She was of medium intensity with more than a common grave, and a full banality of nougat Montelimar. Apart from the soft gray cat who was sleeping on his bed, no one turned it on, much less below. For forty years, she was shrinking with little steps behind the counter of polished wood of his haberdashery that smelled of honey and fresh sawdust, without anyone ever take her in the act of good or bad mood. (...)
Thus it seemed unlikely everyone Serpillon Adeline died one day murdered.
However, on 9 May, the bus driver Nontron, who indulged his son and common buttons, found on the floor sewing in her display. Despite the large carving knife which had been bled white by punching plexus to the navel, and stood there in his belly sad, she kept in the death of the air con saleswomen measuring the elastic pants. "
A great moment of jubilation.