Merde!

For those that ne parle pas Francais, Merde means shit. With a title like that, how could I not buy it? And it did not disappoint! As you likely recall, I don't like France, and this book does a fantastic job explaining just why that was.

Stephen Clarke has wrote an amazing book that I will equate as Chick Lit with a male hero who is clearly as metro-sexual as they come. And he has also wrote the funniest passage I have ever read (but please keep in mind my fondness for bathroom humour):

I realized that I hadn't slept in the same room as another guy, apart from the odd post-drink crash-out on a bedroom floor, since my school's last georgraphy field trip, when we used to have nightly farting competitions in the boys' dorm. Vasco could have farted at international competition level, and I didn't want to give him any complexes, so I always did my best to force out a sympathetic good-night fart before dropping off to sleep. (253-254)