They do things differently across the Channel. You know the kindof thing: the French are sexy, sophisticated intellectuals whosewomen all look like Emmanuelle Beart; we Brits are gauche,emotionally retarded Dr Who addicts whose women all look like FernBritton. They can eat a whole cow stuffed with camembert and neverget fat: we put on a stone just saying: "I fancy a KitKat."
But an even more profound difference is the fact that lastWednesday more than 20 million French citizens proved willing todevote two and a half hours to watching the two candidates for thecountry's highest political office debate policy. The only thingsthat would draw that number of viewers in Britain are the messytermination of a prominent Royal, Jordan having a boob job live onChannel 5 or England reaching the final of the World Cup. Apart fromoccasional brief interventions from the debate's two mediators,Nicolas Sarkozy and Segolene Royal alternately talked in joined-upintelligible sentences for around six minutes, while the other (forthe most part) listened politely.
This may not sound riveting, but it was, if only for the fact itwas so spookily alien to a British viewer. Tony Blair's idea of a TVgrilling, as we all know, is a chummy half-hour being coddled byRichard and Judy. There was no Paxman, no sneers, no nasty intrusivequestions about private lives. It was also weird to watch apolitical debate in which foreign affairs didn't warrant a mentionfor a full two hours.
My uncle has a house in Provence and since the French arepolitical animals it's impossible not to get caught up in electionfever. Even on my flight to Marseilles the gazelle-like youngbeautician sitting next to me made a passionate declaration ofsupport for Royal, decrying Sarkozy as, "very nasty and - how do yousay? - un racist". She told me she feared an escalation of racialtensions in Marseilles, with its, "many beautiful peoples", ifSarkozy came to power.
She's got a point. Say what you want about the British, if an MPdescribed rioting Muslim youths as "scum" and suggested they shouldbe blasted away by water cannon you wouldn't see him rapidlybecoming the leading contender for prime minister. Dear God, you'veeven got to hug a hoodie to lead the Tories nowadays. Apparentlyyoung French voters are combating Sarkozy with an innovative rangeof internet propaganda. One mate in Paris was emailed a computerfootball game where the player is cast as Royal single-handed-lytaking on a team of cloned Sarkozys: the object of the exercise isto head-butt him as many times as possible.
The French are characterised as freedom-fighting pinkoes, butthey can also be breathtakingly illiberal and reactionary. Duringthe previous presidential elections we were watching a news bulletinabout Jean-Marie Le Pen's staggering success in the South, when wesuddenly realised that the marketplace from which they werereporting was our own Cavaillon - "melon capital of France". It hadregistered the highest Front National vote in France, a chillingirony for a town grown rich on the underpaid labours of immigrantfruit pickers.
This snippet of news didn't surprise us. Just a few days earliermy husband had been queuing in the local bank when a man of Arabappearance at the front of the line had the misfortune to put hisfoot slightly over the mark on the floor that showed where peopleshould wait. Immediately a sour old bag with a tight red permshouted in French: "Step back! Don't you people know how to behave?How dare you come over here, you filthy Arab, and disregard our waysand customs." When she had finished this rant, she turned to myhusband and tried to enlist his support. Drawing himself up like anEdwardian official in some far-flung colonial outpost my husbandreplied in French: "Madam, I am British, and we do not behave likethat to other people." Not entirely true, of course. But at least inBritain such an outburst would rightly be condemned by the majority.
Not that I'm on some jingoistic roll. I mean, what are thechances of your average 20-year-old British beautician being able todebate the relative merits of Cameron and Brown in passable Frenchto a nosy stranger? I asked my neighbour on the plane how she ratedRoyal's chances. She said sadly: "The French, they do not like tovote for a woman." Others agree. One female friend said: "The Frenchidea of a proper politician is a sleek and wily dog fox."
I pondered this while watching Wednesday's debate. Royal did arespectable job, attacking Sarkozy's record on social justice, younever felt entirely convinced by her in the role. Sarkozy, on theother hand, was smug, arrogant, reptilian and undeniably compelling:the sort of politician who you half want to succeed just because hisplot line's more gripping.
But if Sarkozy does clinch the election today, many Brits inFrance will be disappointed. My friends moved to Provence and Paristo escape reforming right-wing politicians. They like the subsidisedand efficient rail network, the empty motorways, the cleanhospitals, art subsidies and the deep, kindly pockets of the Frenchwelfare state.
They endorse the 35-hour week, which affords them time forblissful pottering. Some say house prices will go through the roof,but who wants to sell up and return to Blighty? Who wants Francebrought into the 21st century when we enjoy it so immensely in the19th?
No comments:
Post a Comment