Four middle-aged Frenchmen in the pub tonight, planning on going to Bristol tomorrow to watch the rugby. France versus Wales.
They all play for the veteran team of a town in Brittany, and one of them proudly takes his jacket off and lifts his top to expose his local team's T-Shirt, for which he is the Captain. Turns out he changed his shirt in the hostel, and the one he is now wearing is something to do with a sci-fi film. We all laugh.
"I
love England", he says. " I love the brown beer. I married a girl from Exeter. She still lives in France. I don't like Europe. I hate Europe, but what have you done with this Brexit ? You are now all economically fucked!"
I tell him that half of this country are fucking idiots. He reluctantly agrees. "You are now going to be fucked by Trump!" he reminds me.
I said "Don't blame me, and don't blame anyone in this pub. This is the pub famous for refusing to serve Nigel Farage".
"Tomorrow we will beat Wales!" He is nothing if not confident.
I remind him that Brittany, Cornwall and Wales are all linked by the Celtic connection, and he tells me that his daughter teaches Bretagne as a language in France. "It is like Gallic".
May the best Celts win.