Nicotine and alcohol embraced in my system like long-parted siblings, grateful to me for reuniting them.

I rather wished I'd stabbed him somewhere less awkward.

Don't kill me—you fucking cunt.Hot tip. If you're trying to get someone to not kill you, avoid calling him a fucking cunt.

Plus there was the standard French insult of ignoring your French and answering in English.

For the love of Mary, I get it, she's got a nifty twat. Tell me what I need to know and you can go up there and try'n get back into it.

Speaking was temporarily beyond him, what with the testicular trauma and ass-stabbing.

You're fond, I imagine of your right eye? I mean, you've gone to the trouble of putting make up on it.

He didn't protest much. Evidently he had a penchant for surrender.

I'm still bothered.You're French. If you lot stopped bothering the coffee and tobacco industries would collapse.