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About Paris

I remember this one time—my cousin Jimmy, he had a beat-up ‘86 Escort, blue, rusty as hell. Thing sounded like a lawnmower with asthma, but it got him to his factory job every damn day. One winter, it slid into a ditch—Jimmy laughed, said, “She’s got character, Bern!” Character! Like Margot Tenenbaum smokin’ on the roof—“You’re a genius, huh?”—that’s the Escort, scrappy, real, not some polished Tesla for Elon’s buddies.

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So, I hit up this little spot on Rue de la République. Best croissants ever! Flaky, buttery, and just the right amount of crispy. I was feeling like a king, munching away, when suddenly, BOOM! A pigeon swoops down and tries to steal my breakfast. Like, dude, back off! I’m not sharing my croissant with you! I swear, those birds have no shame.

Champions Cup: Glasgow Warriors edged out by Toulon in thriller