It was wholly a pleasure to get your response to my mentioning the official
(and officious) French effort to stamp out all those dangerous Anglicisms
that keep infiltrating the language of Racine and Flaubert.
I'm particularly indebted to your mentioning that, when some Frenchmen use
the term weekend, they spell it ouiquende.
But of course. And they doubtless pronounce it that way, too.
I can just see Inspector Clouseau, who in my mind is always played by Peter
Sellers, that perfect genius at being a perfect idiot, checking into his
Œotel rheum for un ouiquende -- but not before
asking the desk clerk to give him a massage, since
he's expecting one from ze Yard of Scotland.
Goodness, now you've got me doing it, and only Peter Sellers can do an
acceptable Clouseau.
A bad imitation, however, is easy. You start with a couple of glasses of
cognac and one trench coat. Then you just keep the lips taut and pronounce
all vowels way back there somewhere in the nasal cavity. And occasionally
throw in some throaty R's and liquid L's. Then stand back.
Result: You get a bad version of a bad French accent. It is sure to annoy
the French, preferably at the United Nations.
The real art of the late Mr. Sellers was not that he could play a fumbling
imbecile to perfection, but that his Inspector Clouseau was able to turn
everyone he met into one. He's already got me talking like a monkey.
Cheers,
Inky Wretch