Le Bugeer Francais

I recall a pleasant afternoon when I was six years old. An ice cream truck had stopped near my home. My mummy gave me four pennies to buy an ice cream. As I ran toward the truck, a French bugger stopped me. "Bonjour, little m'sieur," he said. "I perceive you are going to buy ice cream, but please allow me to double your money, first." The thought of being able to buy two ice creams tempted me.

He bent lower and held his hand out, flatly, and told me to lay  my pennies on the palm of his hand. I did so. Then he placed his other hand over the top of the pennies and rubbed his hands in a circular motion. He then removed his hand, and my pennies were gone. He laughed and began to walk away.
"Why did you do that?" I cried.
"Je suis un bugeer Francais... I am a French bugger," he declared. "I am a member of the French Bugger's Union and I do as I please."

I ran back to my home and told my mummy what the French bugger did, and I told her to go and smack his botty. She replied, "I can't do that. He's a French bugger."
"How do you know that?"
"He's wearing a jersey with horizontal stripes, a beret, a string of onions around his neck, and Crocs," she said.

I looked out the window and saw the French bugger laughing as he was buying two ice creams for himself.