[Sung, melodic vocals only] The first time he sees me, in a red dress, with a genuine smile, a pure gaze, full of love. He thinks to himself: Wow!… Let's go and pick the rose from the garden! He's planned everything, just in case… a wicker basket, a chequered tablecloth, homemade aperitifs, flutes, champagne… he's gone big. 'Big' is certainly the word for it… Then again, it's only to be expected. He's from Haldorholm, in Soumerland. Over there, everything's flat: not a single hill, not a single mound, not a single rise – nothing. So they've got to make up for it somehow. The taller you are, the further you can see. As a result, the men grow like giant bamboo shoots and look like mutant asparagus. We've got the mountains; they've got the giants. He's two metres tall: two hundred centimetres of charm, ninety-five to a hundred and ten kilos of power… Gulp! Angel-like curls, the smile of an innocent child, a gap in his teeth – I'd give him an ice cream straight away! With that little gap between his teeth, just big enough to park a bike in, this bloke is luck personified! He's gorgeous! He looks like an XXL version of Jeff Bridges. As tall as Magnum in his day. A broken tooth running diagonally, as cute as Tom Sawyer. Absolutely charming. (Yes, I know, my references are a bit dated, but in my defence, I haven't switched on the telly since the nineties… must be my advancing age.) A bit of a rebel rocker look: crocodile boots, a sky-blue shirt, sand-coloured trousers. He blends into the scenery so well that, from a certain angle, he's completely incognito. He's The Invisible Man. Only his blue eyes give him away. Mel Gibson in Braveheart. In short, when I see him, I'm smitten. His angelic gaze won't let me go… It does worry me a bit, though. I've got a slight niggling doubt. I don't know if he fancies me or if he's some weirdo on the lookout for prey? His automatic tracking system follows me everywhere. It's as if his infrared radar has detected a target! His turret has fired its missile: Rose in the crosshairs, target locked. DRRIIING. My parents! They must have picked up on something… Oops, not now! Sorry. I'll play it cool, keep a low profile. This isn't the time to shoot myself in the foot! Above all, stay focused. After ten minutes, I relax… Actually, he looks more like a kid on a sandy beach, staring at me with his water pistol and saying: You're mine! Splash! I can't resist – I'm instantly taken with him! And behind that mischievous gaze, I sense… (yes, I know it sounds a bit corny put like that… but I feel… a lot. Ever since I was born, I've been the sort to feel… too much! Even with my eyes open, I feel… everything! It just washes over me – that's just how it is). Anyway. I sense… something very human that touches me deeply… And without any double meanings, you dirty-minded lot! It's not what you're thinking… Him: Champagne! Let's raise a glass! To love! Me: Cheers! Happiness! Mel's eyes are fixed on me (alert: predator's trap). You're as beautiful as a rose!… And then, without warning, against my will, a little tear betrays me! I reply straight away: Thank you, it's mad how much this champagne moves me! I'm very sensitive; I can't help it – as soon as I hear the word "thorn", I cry. (Thanks, La Cage aux Folles!)
