NICOLAS BENT TO pick a buttercup and handed it to Carla. Carla's heart fluttered as his fingertips touched hers.
"These, my dear," said Nicoals Sarkozy, pointing to some shrubbery, "are roses tremières and those are ornithogala pyramidales."
Carla's legs turned to jelly. "Blimey!" she thought in her native cockney accent which she so cunningly disguised in speech. "He knows all about flowers!"
Carla's mind whirled back to when she was wooed by UK TV Gardening expert Alan Titchmarsh. She was madly in love except for his wonky eye which always seemed to be looking over her shoulder. And there was something missing. Carla never knew what it was but she knew she was right when she broke it off in Alan's potting shed.
"Oooh, look at that beautiful pink fuchsia," squealed Sarkozy as they approached the back entrance to the Elysée Palace.
Carla knew this was the man for her. She had been looking for a flower expert all her life. It was the most important thing in the world to her to settle down and find happiness with a man who knew all about flowers. And, oh yes, Sarkozy fitted the bill perfectly. "I must marry this man," she thought. At that mad moment, the fact that Sarkozy was a millionaire president of a major world nation was completely lost on her – for a split second. And then she remembered it and sighed. "I REALLY MUST marry this man," she said to herself.
"Would you like to see my root vegetables?" Sarkozy was saying as they approached the vegetable patch.
"This could be big," thought Carla.