A Red-Haired Breton

The next story is from last year's "Fête de la Musique" - A one-day music festival in the French institute in Prague. It was the first day of summer and everybody seemed happy and pleased with everything that happened that day. The First Breton was going to finish the day with a Breton "Fest-Noz" - A night party which just means some good Breton music in the evening and a lot of dancing.
It was about five o'clock, yet plenty of time before midnight. I was sitting there and watching a few musicians playng some jazz when a young French-speaking man cought my interest. His red hair curled around all of his head and he was wearing a green t-shirt. I wanted to start conversation so I asked him about the meaning of the writing on his T-shirt. He explained to me that it's a "jeu des mots" - a word joke. Then he asked me whether I know someone in the institute. I pointed on the First Breton and said that he's going to play some music on his clarinet and bombard later in the evening.
"Bombard? But it's a Breton instrument!" he said. "Well, yes, that's because he's Breton." I replied with a smile. The man turned from side to side and then said a bit quieter than before: "Well, actually, I'm Breton as well!"

Me and François-Xavier, we spent the rest of the evening watching the musicians and looking forward to the Fest-noz. The midnight came but there was still some other band playing. I went to ask the First Breton and with a sad face he told me that there isn't enough time for him and his band to play. I went back to François bringing the sad news and then we all said our farewells and I went home. Nothing much important happened, except for I met another Breton... ;)