Maxime Bernier Kicked Out Of La Poule Rouge Restaurant

Scant hours after Maxime Bernier used the cork from a bottle of Bordeaux to pound out a thread on Twitter in which he expresses pride in Canada’s multiculturalism while at the same time demanding that it stop, Mr. Bernier had his poutine dumped in his lap and was shown the door at a Quebec restaurant that coincidentally shares a (translated) name with the one in Virginia that turfed out Sarah Huckabee Sanders for being an appalling and unapologetic liar.

“We here at La Poule Rouge will not abide Canadians who think they are Double-Plus Canadian because their skin is the white one,” said the restaurant’s owner, Horatio Poloz-Ali, a third-generation immigrant to Sherbrooke with a mean wrist shot, no-bullshit attitude, and a milkshake that brings all the tourists to the yard. 

“This guy, Maxime, he comes in here after saying that shit on the Twitter, and he thinks he’s getting the poutine? He isn’t getting the poutine mes amis, not here. Not today. Not ever.”

The situation came to a head at midday, when Bernier – famished after a busy morning of burning his car to improve the gas mileage, and pulling rose bushes out by their roots to help them flower – decided to head into Sherbrooke for fries with cheese curd, and Nanaimo bars, the only two foods the Vraiment Canadian will allow himself to eat. 

“So he comes in the door, sits down, and says, ‘This restaurant is nice but I think it would nicer if it was an empty lot,'” explained Mr. Poloz-Ali, pointing at the booth that the Conservative MP sat in for 11 short seconds. “And so I said: ‘You must be Maxine Bernier. Wait right here while I get your poutine.'”

Nine seconds later an extra large order of poutine was served directly into Mr. Bernier’s lap, and he was given succinct instructions on how to find the door, and anatomically-specific location to put his divisive ideas. 

“This guy saying he doesn’t like division is like a shovel saying it doesn’t like ditches. I told him if he wants poutine he’d better start growing his own potatoes. Because all of the ones he’s been eating were grown, harvested, transported, sliced, boiled, and fried by people who’s roots lead back to other countries. Just like his own.”

2 replies »

  1. I don’t have anything to add to this but wanted to say that
    1. I always giggle in delight like a school girl when I see an e-mail that The Out And Abouter has a new post
    2. my French-Canadian girlfriend sounds exactly like the restaurant owner. However, I’d like to keep her special poutine spilling techniques private.

    Liked by 1 person

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