Clitoredectomy with your Tea?

Last night I emailed a friend, LB, to ask if she wanted to join us at the Sydney Film festival to see Frozen Angels. She mailed back that she was going somewhere grimmer, Moullade. Sounded to me like a fancy restaurant, the type her parents always force her to go to for awkward family dinners. Now that LB’s girlfriend is in town, her homophobic parents are being particularly weird and, convinced that they had set this dinner up to ‘get to know’ LB’s gal, I spent some time and thought mailing back a sensitive email that attempted to sooth LB’s impending sense of doom, while tactfully not insulting her parents. She mailed back that Moullade is not a restaurant. It’s a film about genital mutilation in Senegal.

I still maintain it would be a good name for a restaurant. Perhaps a Senegalese one.