An english girl in France, with only moderate french speaking ability, is treated in one of two ways. Even if you manage to fool a native at first, with a few of your well-rehearsed opening lines, your inadequacy is going to catch up with you eventually, and then you be revealed for what you really are, the typical second-language-intolerant English. For the most part, our european stereotype is complete truth, we are inutile when it comes to other languages, and when presented with the option of speaking in our own vernacular, we either accept it readily, or the other speaker allows no other alternative, upholding the belief that when it comes to dealing with foreigners, its always going to be their english that's better than your french.
The second is comparable only to the relationship between a woman and the man she wishes to file a restraining order against.
-Est-ce que je peux m'asseoir ici?
-Oui, vas-y.
-Eengleesh?
-Oui.
-From where do you come?
-Je viens de Newcastle, c'est dans le nord de l'angleterre.
-Would you like a french keeeeesssss?
-Non, merci. Au revoir.
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