City life in France is not much different to city life anywhere else: hooded youths with sad, sagging trousers, the odd beggar, dog pooh, car fumes and the like. Another thing they have in common with their foreign counterparts is 'Graffiti Shops'. These are spray-can emporia whose products, albeit sold entirely legally, are destined to deface buildings. Delightful, huh? The joke wears a little thin when you hear stories like I heard when I got home from work this evening. Mrs. Fingers, a friend, the Fingernails and the friendettes went out for a walk around 5pm. All of a sudden, all four children started wailing and crying; their eyes were streaming and they were coughing profusely. It turned out that this was the result of the fumes from one of these appalling spray cans. Thanks, Mr. Hooded Cretin; if our kids develop some kind of anomaly in later life we'll know who to thank.
And nobody here ever says a thing.