The other night I needed a break from work so I stuck my head into the lounge room where Mr JB was watching a French movie on SBS. I decided to plonk down on the couch and watch for a bit. There was a brooding, depressed looking young bloke in most of the scenes; all very enigmatically French cinema.
JB: “So is he a serial killer or what? Hang on *ruffles through TV guide* it says, ‘Waiting for Someone – the lives of half a dozen people intersect in a provincial French town. A beautifully appointed and sweetly melancholic ensemble tale about loss and longing.’”
Mr JB: “I dunno, I was just waiting to see if we get a look at the school teacher’s tits.”
* My husband is a breasts man.