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you stuff). I hadn't even sought their self-satisfied painting advice in the first place, yet they
were evangelical in their passion and 'support'. I felt less like I was painting walls and more
like I'd wandered into the Church of Scientology and asked aloud if anyone had any advice
for a newcomer.
According to this unsolicited advice decorating, as with most things in life, is all about the
preparation, fourfifths of it to be exact, said one zealous twitterer, and I'm not big on prepara-
tion. Magazine and newspaper interviewers always ask that question of comedians: 'So, how
do you prepare for a gig?' And then think I'm being flippant when I answer, 'Make sure there's
nothing stuck in my teeth and that my flies are done up.' I'm not being flippant at all, that
really is how I prepare to go on stage. The thing about painting is that because I detest it so
much I haven't got time to waste 'preparing' anything, I need to get on with it, attack the job
while I have a mind to do so. Preparation for painting the office was two coffees and trying
to decide what in my wardrobe could possibly be sacrificed for the purpose. That alone took
an hour.
The job did not start well. The roller extension pole, it probably has a proper name, snapped
early on, which meant that the roller sprang back and hit me on the forehead leaving a perfect
roller imprint. I thought this was ironic, as the paint was so thin it had barely left anything on
the wall as yet. Seriously, the stuff was thinner than milk. We'd ummed and ahhed about not
only what paint to buy, but where to buy it. Paint in France is very expensive, so I'd brought
a load over from England, but it was already clear that this stuff would require about eight
coats. The expat Internet forums are alive with the whole English versus French paint debate
for some reason and bits of it get quite tetchy as clearly some people, despite moving here,
wouldn't buy a French product of any description while others regard it as nothing less than
a betrayal to bring over English paint to put on French walls. I liked Reg from Burgundy's
suggestion; just cover the walls in old Camembert boxes.
However, not wishing to lure the entire local mouse population to my new 'sanctum' I de-
cided to change tack and buy local paint. Dark-coloured local paint; surely a darker colour
would cover the wall more quickly? I bought an absurdly expensive
monocouche
(one-coat)
paint and was immediately disappointed. It seems that 'onecoat paint' is one of those modern
myths like 'economic trickledown effect' and cough medicine; they don't work, it's all a lie.
After one coat the wall was supposed to be a deep red but it looked like I'd just got annoyed
and thrown a glass of rosé at it instead. Further inspection of the instructions, or should I say
my first look at the instructions, showed that in order for
monocouche
to work you first had
to apply a
sous-couche
. Right. So let me get this straight, in order for one-coat paint to work
you need to apply another coat?
This is exactly the kind of retail subterfuge that leads to uprisings and a storming of the bar-
ricades. If I need another coat, it's not bloody
monocouche
, is it? That's like buying a super-
