Toby Neal on 900 years of common history, a mouche in the ointment and thermal shock in a heatwave
Manny was giddy with excitement.
He had got to dress up in a fancy costume. He had got to make interminable speeches to a mysterious bunch of old stiffs who politely laughed at his jokes. And he had got to meet a real king and queen.
Why didn't France have a king and queen? He would have to look it up when he got home. Maybe it's because I'm regal enough myself, he said, smiling to himself.
He had to admit it, the English had been charming. Despite Brexit. For a fleeting moment he had weakened in his resolve to ensure perfidious Albion received due punishment and paid the price for its folly.
His drone attack had gone down well. Two nations bound together by 900 years of common history, together. Together, hand in hand, marching together to face the challenges of the future, arm in arm. We have to work - together. Marchons, oui, marchons. Europe together, in European togetherness.
He knew he would get on with the British Prime Minister the moment Sir Keir greeted him with: "Nice to see EU, Emmanuel." This was a British leader he could do business with, a man not only on the same page but reading the same lines. No wonder Sir Keir had rolled out the red carpet, because if his reset-rejoin project is to succeed he knows that he has to have Big Mac on his side.
But there is a mouche in the ointment. A tricky subject. Manny had tried to put it to bed obliquely with his generous loan of the Bayeux Tapestry, which tells the story of people crossing the Channel in small boats, followed by a bit of a riot at Hastings, but - and this is the key bit - the Brits get to suck it up in the end.
