One day, my sister was driving through the Place de la Concorde in her Citroen when a Frenchman rammed her bumper. It wasn't much of a bump, and the man sped off without bothering to see if he'd done any damage. Dort was enraged by the man's callous insensitivity. Light's flashing, horn tooting, engine revving, and tires squealing, she gave chase. Finally, about ten blocks later, she manage to corner the man in front of a flic (a cop). Standing up through the Citroen's open sunroof, my six-foot-three-inch, red-cheeked sister pointed a long, trembling finger at the perpetrator and with maximum indignation yelled: "ce merde-monsieur a justement crache dans ma derriere!" Her intended meaning was obvious, but what she said was: "this sh*t man just spat up my butt!"
Chapter 2, Part 2: Never Apologize, My Life in France.
Something tells me that when I'm off to France myself, I'll do a lot of this sort of thing! I love Julia Child's humour though. The book is just full of it; it's bursting with humour and is an absolute delight to read.