Today, the Guardian has a great, weird story on how a song written by this guy:

and passed through the kidneys of this guy:

was made famous by this guy:

who loathed its Gallic smarm.

Few of the nitwits who insist that the song My Way be played at their funerals are aware that this hymn to self-absorption originated with a flamboyant French pop singer who died in his bathtub while changing a light bulb. The long and winding road that would culminate in Frank Sinatra’s eternal identification with a song he personally despised begins in the unassuming Egyptian town of Ismailia, where Claude Francois was born in February 1939.

The story’s horrifying fact—more horrifying than dying for home ec: “as recently as two years ago, My Way was the most popular number played at British funerals.”

What’s wrong with the English?