Cacques Dutronc

[The Boston Crab]

Suave, sophisticated, smells of shit.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

In history, all the main figures stank of shit.

The ones that counted - stank of shit.

[Gregory Torso]

Cacques Dutronc, smell of shit, walks in the nightclub. Club is dead. Blacked out. Redacted dancefloor.
Cacques Dutronc eats the sunglasses off a weaker male's face. He owns club now.

The music is just a crow going "caw, caw" and the smell of rich faeces drift like hot fog over the armchairs and banquettes. There's an anvil in the toilets for shoeing wild girls who will not bend to Dutronc will.

Fat babies grease theirselves in mirrors. Daddy's paint is fresh. Follow me like so.

[thraxx]

Il est cinq heures, Paris pue de queues.

[Monsieur Verdoux]

Merde In France (Cacapoum) by Cacques Dutronc

[thraxx]

Ce soir, Caques Dutronc chante 'Les cacatus'.

"Sous mon pied, il y a des cacatus"
"Dans mon lit, il y a des cacatus".

Sal fucking bastard.

[poo]

Hiya Cacques mate

[Glebe]

Ah, yes, yes, of course!

[Blue Jam]

Sorry, but no-one is ever going to beat "Shitney Pooston".

[pancreas]

Cacques Dutronc.
À minuit,
  Il sent l'air fraîche,
   Et ensuite,
    Il fait une merde dans son pantalon.

[Glebe]

MaCaques Dutronc.

[hamfist]

He is lost in the dark of the night. I cannot see him, but him scent is there. Suddenly the flash of him teeth, the white of him eyes. He is there. I smell him and I see him. Caques Dutronc.