Prunes of Agen

Gaius and Margaret are in Agen. Gaius is delighted to discover that Agen is the prune capital of France. How delightful! Agen is the prune capital of France, he says to Margaret, looking up from his Smartphone. Then go out and buy some, and leave me alone, says Margaret. I'm trying to write my blog. Everything has gone wrong. Alright, says Gaius, going out. He walks to the Rue de la Republique and enters a shop called Maistre Pruneau. Bonjour Master Prune, he says to the prunemaster. Give me 200 grams of your finest prunes, s'il vous plait. The prunemaster weighs out 500 grams of his finest prunes. Ces sont bonnes avec l'armagnac, says the prunemaster. Aussi le champagne. Vous voulez? That looks like more prunes than I asked for, says Gaius, holding out a 20 euro note. The prunemaster hands him the enormous bag of prunes, a bottle of armagnac, a bottle of champagne, and no change. Mercimonsieur, aurevoir, bonnejournee, gabbles the prunemaster. Expensive prunes, says Gaius. And your scales a wrong. But thank you for the bottles. Au voir monsier He returns to the apartment where Margaret is still struggling with her blog. That's a big bag of prunes, says Margaret, seeing the size of the bag of prunes. And what's this? Champagne? Oh Gaius. Isn't it lovely in France! Lovely, says Gaius. What have you got there? asks Baby Pierre, emerging from his Room of Ones Own. Prunes, says Gaius.