Mafiabreizh

On April 22, 2023

(translator’s note : Breizh means Brittany, a French province that was once an independent country)

It all started when I realized that, despite the hundreds of people coming to the Telebreizh crepe stand at every event, I had not seen any significant purchases made by the club, except for a magnificent and imposing flag of Brittany, which promised to attract even more people at the FUPS. But then, where was all that money going?

I decided to infiltrate the staff for the evening to investigate. The party started well, a few hungry customers to serve, and I quickly got the hang of making crepes. After a while, I found myself next to the club treasurer (who preferred to remain anonymous). What a great opportunity! After chatting for a bit, I asked him how much profit they were making on each sale.

“A lot, I would say, several hundred even, but it’s hard to know, we are so successful that it’s hard to count everything.”

So far, nothing strange, I then questioned him about what they did with all that money. But then, his confident smile faded, and after a few endless seconds of hesitation and while avoiding eye contact, he muttered something about all the equipment borrowed and broken by other clubs, how expensive it is to replace, and other things like that. Yet on the table: the same old billigs (crepe makers) from the beginning of the year, two rozells (batter spreader) for 4 billigs, and only a few napkins to serve the crepes. Very intrigued, I tried to get more information out of him, but he didn’t say anything else that was useful for the investigation.

From there, I could only speculate. But one thing was certain, something dark was going on at Telebreizh. How could it be explained that the new president of the BDE, Panamaël Le Guillouzic, was also an important member of Telebreizh: the butter manager? Have the club’s profits been used to finance his campaign? I had to continue the investigation, to discover the missing piece of the puzzle, the clue that would reveal the whole machinery in broad daylight. I had often been told that BDE = MafiaBed, but did Telebreizh = MafiaBreizh?

However, all the crepes I had eaten were starting to evoke strange and new feelings in me. My mind was getting confused. How delicious these crepes were, especially the “Ghislain” which brought tears to my eyes. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my neck. And there, I saw it.

I gazed up at the enormous flag. Six months it had taken me to learn what kind of beauty was hidden beneath the black ermines. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O Stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two chouchen-scented tears trickled down the sides of my nose. But it was all right, everything was all right.

THE STRUGGLE WAS FINISHED.

I HAD WON THE VICTORY OVER MYSELF.

I LOVED BRITTANY.