"Asbestos" ? amiante, ville du Québec... Un récit cruel où se croisent intermittents du spectacle mais aussi artistes, personnels de palace mais encore d'hôpital, gens de robe et cols romains, amis du Canada et ennemis de Port-Royal : "un récit où trouver un enfer assez sûr pour ne pas désespérer."

Récit d'une descente aux abîmes (asbestos)

Version en prose par un Frère Ermite des 150 Psaumes (livres I à V) d'après l'édition révisée en 2000 de la traduction par les bénédictins disparus de Saint-Lambert-des-Bois près Port-Royal.

Psaumes en prose - à l’usage des méchants évêques

Bilingual version (with French text) of an ebook from "Hermit's confessions (film "No-Shows" postscriptums)", n° 19 "Singuliers" magazine - ISSN 0992-2881.

Anne Hidalgo Mayor of Paris 2024

Franz Lehar 'musical'

An ebook from "Hermit's confessions (film "No-Shows" postscriptums)", n° 19 "Singuliers" magazine - ISSN 0992-2881.

Comic Operas - Noëlla Pontois, Georges Wilson, Éric Vu-An

Tableau sarcastique du provincialisme (nouvelle édition de "Langres Guide") : sur les "ravages de la consanguinité politique"... et culturelle.

Haute-Marne département perdu

Où ceci explique cela (nouvelle présentation d'un tiré à part du Supplément de la revue biennale "Singuliers" n° 17).

Emmanuel Macron un provincial à Paris

Bilingual version (with French text) of an ebook from "Hermit's confessions (film "No-Shows" postscriptums)", n° 19 "Singuliers" magazine  ISSN 0992-2881.
To Adam, the sleeping receptionist... I am George Gilbert Scott, or rather his ghost, or something else, perhaps even someone different with the same name who looks a lot like him  but it doesn't matter. I was the architect of hundreds of buildings in England in the 19th century, but of only one hotel towards the end of my life, which was partially opened on May 5, 1873 : what is now called the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel London ; for the rest, namely the reasons for its closure and reopening, one need only refer to what is told on the internet... In my lifetime I was called a cynic. I took my revenge by leaving to posterity the decadent neo-Gothic image of a phantasmal England, which still believes itself to be the queen of the world, to the point of still defending its exit from Europe out of sheer stupidity. Now I haunt my hotel, especially the part where the suites giving access to what is pompously called "Chambers Club" have been fitted out  in fact a way to dissuade from the too complicated room service in the immense corridors and staircases of this building where there were hardly any drains until not so long ago... I also get revenge on occasion since the restaurant opened with my name on it  to pay homage to me I guess  has closed (I have a too big room with my name on it but I'm never there). So when I saw these two Frenchmen arrive from Paris, who were also there to prepare a little book praising my hotel, on the occasion of the 150th anniversary of its opening on May 5, 1873, I couldn't help but spoil the party a little... The girl at the reception, named Eve perhaps  and with an equally foreign accent  didn't understand the request : they wanted to pay for the two nights on the day of arrival, and any extras separately on the day of departure (real palaces like the Hotel des Trois Couronnes in Vevey, Switzerland, which doesn't use the Euro though, have no problem with this) ; this receptionist made three mistakes : instead of accepting the payment, she opened a pre-authorization ; there was no credit card receipt given even though the PUK code was dialed ; moreover, the pre-authorization was made in Euros and not in Pounds Sterling : they realized soon after that they had overpaid by several tens of Euros, because the exchange rate used by the hotel is much less interesting than the one used by the French bank, which doesn't charge exchange fees. Later, another receptionist, probably Adam (I usually find him amusing when he's all asleep at the start of his working day), spoke in English  he only knows that language  to those French people as if they were morons : he didn't understand either, or didn't want to understand  and therefore didn't apologize for his colleague's mistakes during the check-in. Obviously, no response from the stooges to this email criticism, so he transferred it to a higher place, with the announcement of the publication date, and also of the pre-order of my satire  a satire that will have no effect on the number of clients, since their lack of culture is in line with that of the staff... By the way, this receptionist reminds me of the creature with the crumpled suit that does the food service in his "Chambers Club", a clown with checks more discreet but less elegant than those of a Duke of Windsor's suit : this head waiter is also too tired to greet the customers when he recognizes them, even when they don't have the usual vulgarity of those who have enough money to frequent this part of the establishment. Ah, when my hotel opened in 1873, the chamber pots and bathtubs came and went in the corridors, but at least the service was grand...

Récit d'une descente aux abîmes (asbestos)

Résumé

Plus de livres de Paul Melchior

Critiques

Ce livre n'a pas encore de critiques