Unfortunately, pig**** thick digi-yoof of today has never seen the need to learn a 'foreign' language. Largely due to it's habit of holidaying anywhere it can ask for "Beer and burger, Manuel" and not be served a piano and a small horse.
Surely it is only politeness, regardless of the rules, to make an attempt to converse in the local language. I don't think that "'allo, allo, je suis Golf Alfa Good Moaning, un Pay Ahh Vingt Huit de Calais a votre place de vol" is quite sufficient, but perhaps better than rien?
Top tip - arrive at lunchtime, roughly 1130-1530. Because during la bouffe, there is bugger all likelihood of any leetle froggy fellow being at the microphone when he could be stuffing his face with steak frites!
Don't do what a chum once did at Abbeville. "It is nice to be here, my father used to fly here", he said. "Vraiment? Quand?" asked the official whilst wiping the lunch from his moustache. "Oh, he flew the Hundert Neun from here in 1940....."
"I wish to see your CofA, aircraft radio licence, VAT certificate, interception procedures.........."
Oops!