Français
A few days ago a bicycle messenger (utterly charming, indeed!) delivered a missive from the Palais de l’Élysée, 55 rue du faubourg Saint-Honoré, 75008 Paris, metro Champs-Élysées.
Dear Mouching,
You have probably noticed that France is not doing so well. Gloominess has installed itself. Our citizens gripe, unemployment grows, mothers smack their children. No longer do investors set foot on our soil, preferring unfortunately, a few hostile countries like: Germany and England (perfidy as always!)
Also, having got wind of your boundless creativity, we beg you to join our efforts to initiate a recovery that would put mutton and beans, the pride of our culture, on every french table.
Signed: (illegible)
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No sooner said than done. You know very well, dear reader, that the health of our beautiful hexagon (we do love the geometry!) is for us more than a duty, it is an honor and if, on top of that, going around the world and to vex fish can make us money, all the better!
Nicely installed in our offices at the “Moune” (a cabaret celebrated for it’s lesbians and it’s, which we gloriously celebrated, damn good armagnac), our conclusion is the following:
At Le Mouching, because fish are our primary source of income, it’s only right that, grace of them, France will be saved.
Vilmo, ever young and dashing, announced his colors with an ingenious idea; it consists of opening a factory that would use fish skin (scales included) to make absolutely impermeable underwear. (Have you ever seen fish get wet? Just think about it!) This underwear would rapidly become indispensable not only for our infants but our senior citizens as well. An end to the leaks, a stop to the suspect traces on our trousers.
Cyril, always concerned with public health (that’s all he thinks about, he’s a contemporary St. Vincent de Paul!), had the idea (that I think qualifies as both daring and revolutionary) to recuperate the innards of fish, that usually wind up in the garbage, and grind them finely until they are transmogrified into a sun screen. After applying all over the body, the cream instantly attracts flies which then form a veritable screen from the rayons of Phoebus. And, in addition, the recycling of the fish’s swim bladders, once they are cleaned, should be excellent life preservers for midgets. (We feel that one doesn’t think enough about midgets!) 
As for yours truly, scandalized by the apparition on the market of “animal” meal destined to feed fish raised on farms (have we ever seen a reasonable trout attracted to a “rabbit stew”? No way! A carp rushing to a “veal ragout a la parisienne? Never! ).
On the other hand, you surely know that the simple act of landing a fly on the water… immediately the water is boiling and fish are jumping with undisguised joy. So where do we find the greatest number of flies? The response is simple: attached to the sticky, fly ribbons hanging in our homes, of course!
So, it suffices to employ a dozen qualified workers to delicately lift these insects from their mortal traps and grind them into a scented cream and voila!… The end of animal meal. Tons and tons of ecological and healthy meals, at the disposition of our fish who, after all, merit it.
Voila, in a few words, our response to the wishes of the President of the Republic.