Drelingue drelingue.

Allô oui?

Allô, bonsoir, Monsieur Lausanne_Guy.  Je suis Yvette de Bleudebleu de l’Institut XYZ.  Puis-je parler à Madame, s’il vous plaît.

Madame est décédée.

Oh.  Je suis navrée.

Il y a deux jours.  Madame est décédée il y a deux jours.

Oh uh oh ah oh er oh…

Ce n’est vraiment pas le moment.

She couldn’t disconnect quickly enough.

I think I’m going to like this.

I thought a lot about Mr. Bigglesworth while watching the first episode, for some reason.

“I fell in love with my country when I was a prisoner in someone else’s. I loved it not just for the many comforts of life here. I loved it for its decency; for its faith in the wisdom, justice and goodness of its people. I loved it because it was not just a place, but an idea, a cause worth fighting for. I was never the same again. I wasn’t my own man anymore. I was my country’s.”

You were a prisoner in someone else’s country because you’d been bombing it.  You had been trying to kill its citizens on behalf of the country you love.

And now its decency includes killing defenseless people, torture, and undermining the Constitution.

I’m not moved by your love.