We are right.
Not always. But with such conviction that the difference stops mattering. Doubt is for people who have never tasted a real baguette.
Founding text · Non-negotiable
The Manifesto
The Fucking French is a small media house that turns French arrogance into books, objects and very long lunches. Here is what we stand for, seated.
Butter is not an ingredient. It is a philosophy.
Whatever the question — cooking, heartbreak, a bad quarter — the answer starts with butter and ends with a nap.
Complaining is a form of love.
We complain about the weather, the trains, the government and each other because we care. The day a French person stops complaining, call a doctor.
Lunch is sacred.
Anything that can be done during lunch can be done after lunch. Anything that must be done during lunch was badly planned.
We laugh at ourselves first.
Before you laugh at us, we already did — louder, in better French, with a glass of wine. The stereotypes are ours. We just print them on better cotton.
Quality or nothing.
Small batches, good paper, soft cotton, jokes that took three drafts. We would rather do less, beautifully, than more, like everyone else.
Opinions are free. Everything else ships in 48 hours.
Our books are free to read. The rest supports the arrogance. Thank you for your service to the Republic.
Signed in Pointe-Noire, on the Bassin d'Arcachon, and at a terrace we will not name.