A Pyrenean Idyll


Aitor shook his stick at  the BMW crawling its way up the steep road to Bayonne. “Fucking Germans,” he spat. “In a hurry to get to their hotel,  no doubt. Probably called ahead to have whores waiting for them.”

“Daddy!”  said Eguzkiñe, pretending to be shocked.

“It’s true, darling girl. All Germans are horny as goats. That’s why we we haven’t blown up this road. We don’t want them to get out of their cars.”

“Daddy! Please!”

“Imagine the crop of half-German bastards they’d leave. Three thousand years of Basque heritage ruined. And I’m only talking about the farm animals!”



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