The little girl comes running in to
her mother who’s in the kitchen.
She’s carrying a book and she looks up to her mother and asks:
“Mummy, what are ‘fox paws’?
“Fox paws?” her mother asks. “What
do you mean?”
“See,” says the little girl,
holding up her book and pointing, “‘fox
paws’!”
“Oh,” say her mother. “You mean
‘faux as’ (ed. correctly pronounced)!
It’s French, you know (ed. roll your rrrr’s), ‘faux pas’.”
“I see, but what does it mean,
mummy?”
“Well, it means a ‘faux pas’, you
know. It’s French!”
“I don’t understand, mummy.”
“Well, let me explain. Do you
recall last week when the Vicar was here
for tea?”
“Uh huh.”
“And do you recall when we went out
into garden to see the flowers?”
“Uh huh.”
“And do you remember when he was
smelling the roses and he pricked his
finger horribly on a thorn, and was just bleeding all over
everywhere?”
“Uh huh.”
And do you remember later that
afternoon when we were in the drawing
room about to have tea and you walked in and said ‘Hello Vicar.
How’s
your prick?’ and I said ‘Oh shit!’ and dropped the teapot?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, THAT’s a faux pas!”
