There’s nothing quite so guffaw-making to an Anglo-Saxon sensibility in need of its funny bone being tickled than a French worthy having a fit of the vapours.

Last week didn’t disappoint. And all over the delightful word “love”. Apparently, French online advertisers prefer it to “l’amour”, which has got the culture minister, Franck Riester, in a right royal Gallic tizzy. “In this linguistic globalisation, our duty is to refuse any tendency to move towards a single [world] language [and] any weakening of the diversity, as of cultures, in France and elsewhere.”

Sorry, Franck, that particular cheval has long bolted. The Académie française, created in 1635, has sought to preserve the sanctity of the language, but has been fighting a losing battle. The French have been long been happy to order a Big Mac. I admire the spirit but, in a time of universal online accessibility, it might well be better to take it on the chin. After all, the British have easily assimilated any number of French words and phrases into everyday use, enhancing, not diminishing, our language - ménage à trois, pied à terre, tête à tête. So far be it for me to tell them to unbend a little, but perhaps a more laissez-faire attitude would be in order.

I occasionally uncover delightful and underused words and damn me if I haven’t found a couple that have appropriately French roots. So let’s welcome “seigniorage”, as in: “The Bank of England makes £450m in seigniorage, earnings on the money that high street banks hand it in return for notes and coins.” Wonderful word, but tricky to slip into a passing conversation.

As is cabotage – the transport of goods or people in the same country by an operator from another country. Probably neither will enter everyday usage – oh well, c’est la vie.

•Jonathan Bouquet is an Observer columnist