I Patate

… … … … Everything you said about me is false, shameful and could not be heavier. I’m hallucinating. We dream while standing. My little man, you know it’s not my habit, but I can’t let such bullshit go by. How dare you ? You say to yourself my friend, and you twist and tear up everything we’ve loved. Xavier, you disappoint me. You’re disgusting. And disturbing.

You grant me asylum from your site, but it doesn’t cost you much and you owe me that, right? Speaking of cash, I could demand a right of reply for damaging my honor and my reputation. I have nothing to do with your caricatures, I am a handsome man! It’s not my type to go to court, you have an ass, because I could have demanded millions! Defamation, attack on honor and reputation, prison, compensation and pretium doloris. You bastard that you are, I should have crushed you in the bud.

First delirium, you represent me as a lousy bum, while my real face, here it is, I have attached it to you, it’s me sculpted by my friend Pilon, my friend Germain. It was in my winter garden, you remember, my pretty house in Gif sur Yvette. But you, fake ass, you call my pretty villa in its wooded park a filthy cabin. Without a fig tree I precise. Finally all the same! Fontenay-sous-Bois is no slum.

You weren’t that kind of bastard before, no. Remember our crazy evenings with the girls of Montmartre, the whores of rue Gerpil, named by Germain Pilon the sculptor, a man of honor with a true word, not like you! You weren’t being choosy. You have not forgotten the colossal laughs with these beautiful young ladies in my beautiful pavilion in Montreuil. What slum? Montreuil was opulent, you’ve always known that.

There is this shitty nickname that you bother me! Jojo the tramp !! While we’re at it, why not Gaston Lagaffe,a well-known character of French comics Fiston Lafritte or Rouston Laroupette?No possible translation, sorry I say Gaston Lagaffe, because you dared to call me clumsy. Rouston Laroupette, because you present me as one who runs the pig. What about you, old balls? Did you live as a monk? Fuck you bastard. Jojo the tramp is ulcerated.

In addition to that, you dare to talk about the years without Patate, although we never left! I have always been there for you. Drunk as a dead barrel, when you stacked on my Persian rugs, didn’t I hold you in my arms? You’re better at lathering yourself than telling the truth. I curse you, Séguin. I’ve been loving you too long.

Bad villain! Make me live in a barack at the corner of the boulevard! What boulevard, asshole? What thousand-year-old fig tree? Do you take me for Buddha? Should know. You haven’t forgotten my 200 square meter duplex in Passy, ​​a penthouse with a view of the Seine! No more boulevard than butter spit, my pretty asshole. You lie like you breathe, you don’t run out of air, no. To breathe, you breathe. But you don’t breathe honesty, you don’t.

And the stupid speeches you lend me! The aliens watching over us are your delirium, not mine. Pandemics, lumbago, tsunamis, I wouldn’t give a damn! (source) I would never have said such a thing. That no. You know it well. You dress me as a bum, but that doesn’t stop you from carving a suit for me. That does not prevent you from doing evil, betraying your brother in arms, shitting on our sacred memories. What you can baffle me, word of man!

Look how beautiful I am in Loire limestone, that of the kings’ castles, yes my boy! And you how you did to me! It’s petty, tiny, tiny! You should be ashamed. Take it out on me who gave you without counting, who raised you like my own dog, uh, son, son! Lapse. See your bad faith, what it makes me do? I’m losing my rabbit. My Latin. I stutter.

Huh? What are you saying ? I hear badly, the sound system is yucky up here. What? Repeat, I hear nothing I’m telling you. Ah yes, you want to know where I’m calling you from. Normal. It always does that the first time you hear a dead person. Yeah, I’m dead, what do you think? Alive I would be 130 years old. I died in the last century. The exact date, we don’t care. My birth too, the date we don’t care. Got no ID card, fuck civil status.

You want to know how I died. Yes I can hear well. Well no, I still hear just as badly, but I understand what you are looking for. You want to prove to me that I never existed. If so, what am I doing here? And why are you listening to me? You take yourself for Jeanne Dark, you have voices. And you’re serious dark. You say it’s me, I know, and it irritates me fat. There is no less dark than the old Patate, and you know that.

Anyway, what the hell? I’m dead, so I’m dead, that’s all … (crackling) Don’t worry about that, I’ll be back. No lack. I always come back with my fancy ragsack. We have the phone up here, being dead doesn’t mean being wild. Just post this paper of mine, and I’ll call you back. To say a word or two every time I catch a glimpse. In the meantime, get yourself (inaudible passage) … … … … …

Just a quick note to let you know that I’m surprised as well. Vieux Patate has been dead for over 20 years, but that doesn’t stop him from calling me. Proving ! What? I dunno. (xs)

There is no such thing as coincidence. Everything that happens is wanted.
Buddha