Anglo-French warfare, waged over centuries on battlefield and rugby pitch, is alive and well if the response to Hortense de Monplaisir’s diatribe against the English in last week’s News Review is anything to go by.

In our extract of Le Dossier: How to Survive the English, “translated” by Hortense’s alter ego, Sarah Long, she declared that after 10 years in Fulham, she understood the English “better than they do themselves”. She described the English as living like “troglodytes” in converted cellars, our women as “the great sluts of Europe, with no feeling for housework” and our men as being “no good at sex”. This, many of our readers took with humility, but when she went on to deride our national treasure, Dame Judi Dench, many felt she had overstepped the mark.

So incensed were some of our readers by de Monplaisir’s audacious attack on her host nation that we felt it only right, proper (and English) to allow a riposte. The responses seemed to fall into distinct groups: those who wholeheartedly agreed with de Monplaisir; those who were appalled at her lack of judgment and manners; and those who took time to ruminate on the politics, culture, hygiene and personal appearance of the French. Interestingly, most of the responses in support of de Monplaisir were written by English expatriates.

On appearance, many objected to the notion that all Frenchwomen are small-bottomed and immaculately coiffured. Grahame from Broomfield, in Kent, wrote that he had “always found Frenchwomen butch and unattractive in general, and with questionable hygiene, plus look at who the face of Chanel is” – the delectable (and English) Keira Knightley.

One of our readers used his own girlfriend to contradict Hortense: “My French girlfriend can’t cook and only brushes her teeth every few days. She also dresses like a clown. But I do love her.” (K, Bristol) An Englishwoman living in France took exception to her compatriots being labelled as the “great sluts of Europe”.

“How about the French housewives who, having never heard of epilation, cycle happily home from the boulanger with the baguette stuck under their sweaty armpits?” she railed. “Or the French habit of flushing the loo once a day to save water? Better still, the men that you can see peeing on any roadside all over France. Women who turn up at the beauty salon and have what looks like camembert between their toes thinking that it wasn’t worth washing before going to the salon as it’d get done there!”

“Well, we may all have huge bottoms,” wrote Cat Walker from Birmingham, “but at least we use proper toilets here in England, unlike the French, who insist on going by the side of the road. Leave Paris and not 10 miles out of the city you start to see country lanes strewn with toilet paper. Disgusting.”

De Monplaisir poured scorn on Englishwomen for “ingratiating themselves with the maid, rushing around to clean up before they come, then apologising for the state of the house”. This, she said, made cleaners spoilt and made it harder for Frenchwomen to demand the level of service they needed. To which Laurence from Bristol retorted: “I’m actually a complete bastard to my servants . . . or at least I would be if I had any.”

S Ward, from Brighton, wrote that in his romantic encounters with Frenchwomen: “I personally found their lovemaking cold and unimaginative in comparison to American or Italian women, and their cooking at home: sacré bleeeugh.”

Captain Haddock from Hampshire, a self-confessed Francophile, took a more balanced view: “French food – I’ve had some wonderful meals there. I’ve had some of the worst also. Beautiful women – yes, there are many but I’ve seen some of the ugliest and worst-dressed women in the world teetering between the piles of dog poo on the boulevards.”

“Frenchwomen and dress sense?” asked Anne in France. “Ha ha ha! Round here the look is off-duty prostitute.”

The Americans were keen to lend us a hand (conforming to stereotype as well, it would seem) in fending off Madame’s attacks. Jedsil from New York wrote: “The French are like the caricature of the classic indolent brother-in-law. He doesn’t work, produces nothing of consequence, but has a taste for the finest things in life: yours. I adore the UK, but America has one great advantage over your country. We are further away from France.”

The relaxed French lifestyle so championed by de Monplaisir, was roundly set upon by Phil Barlow from the Wirral who pointed out: “The suicide rate in France is 2½ times higher than the UK (source WHO International).”

Frank D from Boston, in the US, said: “The funniest part was utilising ‘French’, ‘efficiency’ and ‘excellent service’ in the same vapid thought bubble . . . Even the new French president admits what a train wreck France has become.” In her CV, it was pointed out that Hortense had “exceptional IQ” and was a member of French Mensa. Ally from Keswick retorted: “The French branch of Mensa clearly has lower entry requirements than the one in Britain.”

John from Oxford took exception to the admission from a person of “exceptional IQ” that a picture of Ségolène Royal, resplendent in a bikini at the age of 52 during the presidential campaign, filled her with national pride. “I am surprised that . . . Royal is able to instil pride through her physique despite the naivety and stupidity of the failed candidate’s shambolic campaign.”

Deriding the English culture was similarly ill-received. “Hortense does not understand the English if she believes she can slight Dame Judi Dench with impunity,” wrote Jill from Devon. Steve Hillage from London also took the writer to task. “And our singers like Johnny Halliday are so brilliant,” he wrote, “whereas your singers like ze Beatles are so – how you say – crappy.”

Robert Shepherd writing from Paris suggested, “The French too have an inferiority complex; not understanding why a small, damp island only 40% as big as France can have a bigger, more dynamic economy, create the global language, beat Paris to the Olympics and eliminate ‘les bleus’ at rugby.” Humphry Clarke from London agreed: “This column is a timely reminder why we spent the majority of the 18th century and a substantial portion of the 19th pounding les bleus into submission with cannon and shot. They evidently failed to learn their lesson.”

For all the hundreds who rallied together in a fit of national pride, there were some who agreed with Hortense. Russell from Bulgaria wrote: “I’m English (expat) and she’s 100% right! Haven’t laughed so much for ages! The book's on my Christmas list!”

Possibly the most succinct response came from Mark in London: “This acidic, tiresome, desperately unamusing diatribe sparked something within me that has lain dormant for some time – patriotism. So for that, thank you Madame de Monplaisir.”

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