The following text has been recovered from the files of the Societe Anonyme des Revisionnaires Francais. Unfortunately I used one of those universal translation tools you can get off the net, and it hasn't come across quite as well as I'd hoped ... Still, here it is:
Letter of News (edition 2445)
Greetings cordial to all agents of provocation of the S.A.R.F., whenever you might be! Tidings of joyousness in this issue as we are in celebration of the efforts magnificent of Agents Lavoisier and Marat. After their triumph spectacular on the field of battle at Hastings, they have secured another victory notable by encompassing the death of the Englishman of perfidy the Admiral Lord Nelson. The glory! The triumph! The honour of the Fatherland to our agents! Alas, our comrades brave were unable to amend the result of the battle of Trafalgar, thanks to the wiles of dastard of the English agent known only as the Colonel Next.
This further example of the perfidy of Albion should only our resolve strengthen to combat by all means possible the machinations of those who have usurped our glorious Fatherland's position at the head of world culture. Is it right, we ask, that such small posers as the bumpkin Shakespeare, the charlatan Dickens, the insane sisters Bronte and the miserabilist Hardy should be throughout the world known, yet our own glories of the art such as the masters magnificent Racine, Corneille, Rabelais, Flaubert and Baudelaire remain as yet unheard of in so many quarters of the world? We say, is this just? Is this fair? By the holy blue, it is not! It is true that by much effort, and not a little of the cunning, we have achieved for Proust a position in the ranks of literatists which to be frank, my friends, he does not deserve, but this is a victory small to set against the obstacles that yet confront us. We must contend at all times, and indeed in all times, to strive with might against the eminence unjustified of the English. We discard them, the shopkeepers, with their warm beer and their attempts pathetic to speak our glorious tongue, with 'the pen of my aunt is under the table' and 'the monkey is in the tree' and their foolish lists of verbs irregular. We shall teach them to name stations on the way of iron after the battle of Waterloo, shall we not! (We did consider with seriousness the naming of the Station of the North in Paris after some great victory of France over England, but alas we could not think of any).
To matters grave now. I am of desolation at having to inform you of a failure dismal. After our successes at the previous tournament, when the Brazilian Ronaldo was replaced by one of our own agents for the final match, it is with sorrow that I must report abject failure at the Cup of the World tournament of soccer in Japan. All our efforts were thwarted by an agent in the pay of the English, a Madam Nakajima. Alas, due to an attack of the virus of mispellment, we kidnapped a lady by the name of Madam Nakijima, and the real agent was able by some as yet unknown means of deviousness to destroy all hopes of our success. However, we have exacted some small measure of revenge by having the entire team of the English cricket now in Australia replaced by Frenchmen.
That is all, my braves, until the next time, but recall: work ceaselessly to advance the cause of the France! Struggle with all of your might against the work of the arrogant and small-minded English! Keep up the work of deconstruction! And above all, my comrades, keep the English drinking the Piat d'Or!
To see you
Jacques Merde, Controller Extraordinary, SARF