Night on the beach

In the apartamento above us lurks a mysterious young Frenchman. He keeps himself to himself but occasionally sallies forth to have a loud work type conversation on his phone. Most disturbing while I’m sitting on the balcony below with my prune yoghurt and orange juice.
Anyway, thanks to Google translate I’m onto him and his gibbering. Here it is, below, verbatim. Clearly in code. He may well be a people smuggler or trafficker. Not to be trusted. …..

“But no, but it is necessary that no no no the thing
You start at home with 20 people. Life but before You see too hot and a machine. Thermomix if ever You must have a boyfriend today who is available.
Good evening as a general rule, that means we're going home now”