What's French for "the wifi is wonky?"

Arras, France

AT the hotel the room was spotless and the beer excellent. The wifi, however, was not working. At least that was the opinion of 20 Brits waving laptops and tablets at the receptionist.

MY school French, all those years ago, was mostly about a little creep called Armand who seemed to skip everywhere and exclaim "Epatant, Maman!" ("smashing, mummy!") at the slightest excitement. We studied Armand at the market, Armand at school, Armand on holiday and Armand at the menagerie. We never did Armand Discovers Windows and thus never acquired useful phrases such as "your wifi has gone bellyup, chum." The hotel receptionist took the admirably Gallic view that if 20 British computers were not reaching his internet, it was clearly a fault with those 20 computers, not his connection. By the next morning all the computers had miraculously fixed themselves. As you can see.

THE weekly market in Arras's enormous main square is pretty much like an English street market with the addition of live chickens and strange mushrooms. The French know their mushrooms. They discover a feathery, bearded sort of fungal outcrop and turn it into a gourmet meal. The English, confronted with the same fungi, tend to call Rentokil.

THE other difference in the streets of Arras is the all-pervading chic. The French make an effort to look good before stepping out into the street. The Brits do not. We also spit an awful lot of gum. The UK economy is booming and the French economy is in the doldrums. But if you judged such things on the appearance of the people and the state of the pavements, you'd assume it was the other way around.

"WHAT might a Scottish defence force look like?" is one of many questions posed on the BBC website. Be honest. Is there anyone out there who does not have a mental image of Braveheart's finest, all blue-faced and ferocious, yelling like banshees and waving their sharpened stakes at the English? FREEEEEDOM!!!! (but on the cheap).

SURPRISED. That one little word should set alarm bells ringing about the appointment of Rona Fairhead as chair of the BBC Trust. No-one denies she is an amazingly successful businesswoman and a dynamo of energy. She has survived breast cancer, raised three children and is fully prepared to work seven days a week to fit in the BBC job with two other important posts. During her interview with the Commons culture, media and sports committee, she stressed her commitment to the BBC (she is a great fan of Doctor Who) and was questioned about the £1 million pay-off she received after missing out on the top job at Pearsons. Fairhead admitted £1 million was a lot of money but, according to reports, said it was "relatively standard" in her line of work. And then she dropped the S-word. She said she was "surprised" at criticism of the sum. Surprised? She is surprised that some folk might find it odd that anyone gets a £1 million jackpot for not getting a job? If she really is surprised it suggests that, like Doctor Who, Rona Fairhead is not living entirely on this planet.

TALKING of jackpots, a Mr Mohammed Ali, Telex manager of the African Development Bank in Burkina Faso, has just emailed. He has 17 million dollars and wishes to share it with me. And you still think it's a good idea to let your Granny have her own computer?