Ah, Paris, with its ignorant waiters, apathetic taxi-drivers, beautiful restaurants, excellent wine and five day party populated by jocks in frocks and our french hosts! Yet there was one thing I brought back from Paris with me that I did not take. Not an STD, duty free or even that daft beret I spent a tenner on whilst pished en route to the Stade. No, it is better than that. It is a piece of knowledge. Knowledge which I now offer to share with my fellow Arrsers. In the south central region of Paris you fill find a street, perhaps undistinguished in comparison to her neighbours. She has no headquarters of multi-national giants, a few neighbourhood bars and small shops. People, just like you and I, live on this street. These people do not even know how exciting their bourgeois home is to you and I. No, they do not have sex industry sweatshops or kebab wagons a plenty, No, beautiful models do not cavort behind undraped windows. This is not the folies Bergeres, la Pigalle or even Parc des Princes. It is the rue Mong. Yes, even as you fight that small grin that speeds unbidden to your lip, you must be musing on what possesses a nation to call a street after mlaaring joeys? It isn't even the centre of the balloon or ice cream industries. Well probably it isn't. Still it is a great name and I bring it back to you from our weekend away with the jocks in frocks and our French hosts. Have a lovely week and don't lick too many windows will you?