A sorrow filled tale of ill fated love betwixt two lovers that can never be.

One day there was an Englishman and a Frenchwoman who were passionately in love. At night, their bedroom was The Song Of Solomon and their partings were a Shakespearean sonnet.

One day the Englishman asked for his love's hand in marriage. However, this Frenchwoman held tradition as close to her heart as she did her lover, so one evening, after giving the Englishman Syphilis, the Frenchwoman and the Englishman stood before The Frenchwoman's father. Boldly, the Englishman asked his love's father for his daughter's hand in marriage. The father looked at the Englishman, his face twisted with scorn and said, "**NON** My daughter shall marry only a proper Frenchman!" As the Frenchwoman collapsed in her grief, the English man swore that he would not surrender so easily.

The next day, the Englishman went to his physician and made a mad request. "Doctor" he said, "I find myself loving a woman as no man, since the beginning of CREATION! has loved another, and I am in dire need of your assistance. For you see I am maddened by my love of a fair French goddess!" The doctor clutched chest as he let out a gasp and exclaimed, "A Frenchwoman! Surely you are mad!" The Englishman then shouted, "MOCK LOVE NOT, PHYSICIAN! For you must know I intend to wed this fairest of maidens, but to my dismay, her father will not allow a blessed union to take place unless... I am a Frenchman! So my request to you, learned man of the medical arts, is for you to transform me... into a Frenchman!" The physician sat somberly on his stool as he lit a pipe filled with the finest of tobaccos. Idly puffing on his tobacco, he lifted his eyes and said, "I know of a procedure, however it comes with... considerable risk." The Englishman stood up and shouted, "RISK IS OF NO CONCERN TO ME, FOR THIS IS LOVE WE SPEAK OF!" the physician then put out his hand and said, "Charles, steady on." The Englishman composed himself and listened intently to the physicians words. "You see my dear sir, I can perform a surgery to mold you into the perfect Frenchman, however I must remove five percent... of your brain!" Without a moments hesitation the Englishman agreed and he was wheeled into surgery.

The surgery was performed and the Englishman survived the cutting, snipping, and pulling. Some hours later the Englishman awoke from his narcotics induced stupor. Upon waking the physician rushed into the room and exclaimed, "MY dear sir, there has been the most terrible of errors, for you see we did extract a mere five percent... we removed fifty percent!" The English then looked at the physician, flashed a carefree smile and said, "Crikey! It salright mate!