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About Strasbourg

But then, ugh, this greasy sod stumbles over, reekin’ of ale, tryin’ to haggle her down. Made me angry, that did—cheap bastard! I’m thinkin’, “I choose violence,” coz I’d smack him silly, but nah, I just glare, cold disdain and all. Little known fact, yeah? Back in medieval days, prossies had guilds—proper unions! Swear down, they’d fine ya for bad service. Wish they’d bring that back, keep these twats in line.

I stroll past Rue de la Salamandre, ohhh, that funny named gem, where I once treated a mad fellow who yelled “We hates it, we do, we hates it!” after a long day, his muscles twisted in pain. Pff, poor bastard, but yess. The parks, oh! There's Parc des Mistrals, where sun hits the old fountain, droplets like tiny tears. I once left my massage table there, and oh blimey, a gecko crawled on it! Precious... but we laughed.

In a small French town where Houston-based LyondellBasell is a fixture, residents complain of unending pollution