This seat under the blue lamp's been mine for forty years now. These days, when there's a loud sound, my hand goes to my ear before I even think about it.

• JoséphineMonsieur, that coat sleeve's torn again. Bring it to me tomorrow.
  Monsieur FayolBetter to leave this sleeve torn. It's the only way it still sounds old.
• ThibaultMonsieur, you raised your hand at the third verse tonight. I stop at that same bar too.