The Fucking French

I live next door to a very annoying french couple. 

Some of you non-Canadians may assume that, as this is Canada, there are an abundance of francophones.  Thankfully, this is not the case in Western Canada - the number of cheese eating surrender monkeys is quite small.  However, there are one or two that have somehow found their way on the island.

Actually, there are exactly two.  And I know this, because they live right next to me.  We share a wall, in fact.

That wall is enough.  Because of that wall, I get awakened at least two or three times a month by the french woman screaming - literally, screaming - at her boyfriend.  Sometimes, she'll start at six a.m.  Or I'll wake up at three a.m. by a french drug dealer, tromping up the stairs to sell marijuana to my french neighbour - since the drug deal is entirely in french, we can presume that there, in fact, three french people that live on the island... and at least two of them do drugs. 

So, I'm not a fan of the french couple that live next door.  But sometimes, they amuse me.  For example, this morning.  When, at the nice and happy time of 8:30 am, I was awakened by the sound of the french couple having sex.

He was pumping very hard, and my wall was, in fact, shaking.  At first, I was annoyed.  But then I burst out laughing.  Because, you see, she's a screamer.  Her Screams (and I quote):

Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh........ OWWWW!

It was a loud "ow".  It was a surprised "ow".  And it was a very angry "ow", because it was followed with some very irate cursing in french.