Open Letter To My Jailers in Lons

Taking A Break From Crushing Cans

Never pick a fight with a man with too much free time or a steady supply of ink on his hands.

Humour: penchant à la plaisanterie, originalité facétieuse (Académie Française).

Dear Exalted Pandas too busy nibbling on shoots to care, 

My dossier was submitted to your offices on 7 December 2023. As you indicate a delay of a minimum of four months response time before approval or rejection, we are well within the agreed upon time-frame. In fact, June 4, 2027 would be within the time-frame or 2267, although it’s unlikely any of us will be around to worry the fact then. Pauvre France !

If there is any way I can assist, sorting incoming petitions or correcting any errors or outright lies I may have submitted in my dossier, please advise. I’m honest (within limits) and always ’fess up, as we say back in the courteous, gun-toting Carolinas, where my relations are getting restless. They fear rejection on your part, and therefore my imminent arrival to live off the fat of the land. This prospect has its pleasures but rest assured I’m not leaving yet. (Having lived illegally for a dozen years, I don’t see why I shouldn’t go for the record in Guinness.) They don’t know that. I believe they can find Lons on the map, and as most Jura locals have visited the Prefecture at one time or another to bail out a boisterous relative, I’m sure they’ll find your door with a little help. 

That isn’t a threat, just advice. Thieves (they prefer to work for the government now), slavers once upon a time, part-time religious fanatics (when it suits them), my Southern clan is proud of their standing in the community when not paying third parties to burn down the local post office. Sharp characters who take care of the business at hand, they are pure Huguenot, a bunch France has had some experience with. They never let an imagined slight go unreturned. ‘By any means necessary’ on behalf of their comforts is the motto of their existence. Consider mine a case of political exile. 

In short if my presence in France is a pain, just wait til my relations get here. Remember what happened the last time the Huguenots got pissed off ? I am, like Henri IV, amenable. I’ll convert to any culte that advances my cause.

Additionally, the delay is costing, naturally enough, time and money. I’m a writer and a translator, with some business skills which I intend to offer to a going Jura business, as detailed in my dossier. At present I cannot work legally, cannot sign a contract, rent an apartment, buy a car (nevermind the license, we don’t bother with that back home), a horse or a house. Practically, all I can do is write, in just the way I’m engaged now. It could get to be a regular thing.

I intend to begin publishing books in the Fall whether you respond or not. In the eventuality that you have not, or that you reject my application for a titre sejour, the immense tax benefits from a venture foisting unknown writers on an uncaring world will accrue to some other pleasant municipality along some other meandering river, somewhere else on this fair, turbulent continent. 

Since I have your attention, European elections are June 9. May I urge you to vote ? It’s the responsable thing to do. Communist candidates for all offices on offer. They’re the only ones with their heads on straight, although they don’t at present possess guns to enforce their program. My relatives may be able to fix that. In the meantime, does any article of French law specifically prohibit pitching a tent in your salle d’attente ? It would be something of a wildlife safari for me, and as we all know, concern for ecology is very in at the present moment.

With salutations of the most distinguished kind I can lay my hands on,

Yours sanculotteshly,

JG 

A reasonable facsimile of the letter above has been sent to the préfecture in Lons which seems to have forgotten about my petition for legal status in France, if not my existence in its entirety, with the hope that a prod or two to the sensitive parts produces sign of life.