Winning No Friends

I've just had a call from the Embassy - suffice to say I won't be getting any invitations to those posh functions where they hand round plates of small chocolate coated cotton wool balls wrapped in gold foil - along the lines of "Do you know what that bloody Bat's done this time?" and suggesting that we are very lucky that they aren't all out burning stuff and rioting on the streets of Paris.
Apparently he's drawn a beard on the Mona Lisa, bedecked a statue of Louis XIV with strings of onions and sewn a beret onto a bust of Napoleon. Mister Squeaky, of course, has denied any premeditated naughtiness and claims it was just student high spirits (at least five litres of vegetable based liquor if I'm not mistaken). His protests have naturally been in vain and he is currently in detention at Orly awaiting deportation as soon as they can find someone brave enough to wrestle him into a travelling box. So much for my peace and quiet...