We've had cause for a few sniggers and guffaws at words and signs that tickle our internal Benny Hill bones. Or, as Sapphire reminds me, I have.
Take douche, for instance. Not exactly a compliment in the English-speaking world, but it means a shower over here. Douche gel is everywhere and still makes me chuckle. Yes, I'm the kind of person who laughs 'til I fart at Australia's Funniest Home Videos.
Or consider our tube of toothpaste, invitingly named Candida. Why on earth shouldn't your oral hygiene regime not involve filling your mouth with something named after a vaginal infection?
Even something as innocent as pastry caused Love Chunks and I to double over when we were last in the chilled food aisle. I was supposed to grab a couple of rolls of pizza dough and found a new brand imported from Germany. "LC!" I gestured him over, "It has extra dick!" Considering that it was already 40cm long and on special it was a clear contender for our shopping cart....
We saw the above bloke at Nyon Castle. "The French clearly invented the comb-over," LC said.
However, Nyon, as scenic and quaint as it is, has nothing on Geneva for nude sculptures. Any free space available has someone in the raw doing things as strange as putting bridles on rearing stallions, flying two kites at once, gazing longingly into a primary school pond (!) or advertising the side entry to an insurance company.
In their version of the mall (Rue de Mont Blanc), there are two Sphinx statues on plinths. The mysterious Egyptian connection was immediately left unanswered when we walked closer and discovered that both of them seem to have visited Beverly Hills recently and sought a date with Hugh Hefner:
..... could those grapefruit be any faker? Or set further apart....?
I haven't the guts yet to take a photo of the stone carving that tops the Cornavin train station; the bustling heart and centre of the city. Not only are both my hands already busy firmly gripping my handbag in the area's busiest spot for pickpockets but I don't want to be seen taking a shot of a man with a donger that's roughly the width and length of a loaf of bread. "Maybe it's a self portrait of the artist," Sapphire said, with a dry maturity that both surprised and frightened me.
Not only that, but he has two busty (and completely nude, of course) female companions directly behind him, arms folded back in a strange double-jointed pose, gazing earnestly at whatever he, Mr Super Schlong - is looking at. Why this was considered a good image for the train station is anyone's guess. Here's mine. "No time to put your clothes back on girls, we've got two minutes to get to platform nine!"
LC bravely ventured into Swiss e-bay and bought himself an electronic piano. He knew he was successful because he was sent this message: "They delivered your price proposal? Now it is because of the salesman whether it accepts it. We press you the thumbs."
Further out of the city, towards the German-speaking population of the Switzerland are the Ausfart signs. These appear at every exit from the motorway said my friend K. "But we thought why not, we're Australian, we can always wind the windows down...." The pastry from her delicious home made spinach pie got stuck in my windpipe as I laughed too loudly and inhaled instead of swallowed - you find your jollies where you find 'em.