In Paris, writes Dalrymple, a kind of beggars has come out like a rash in the Métro.
A mother, a father and a couple of young children sit against the wall with a carton on which are inscribed the words Famille syrienne.
The children, Dalrymple notes,
have been trained to make a continuous whining or keening sound that is neither spontaneous nor sincere. It is bad acting. Far from wanting to give them a coin, I want to give them a slap. Perhaps where they come from such snivelling is expected from beggars.