It is, as Mme Valvoline has just said, a clear choice on May 6th.
She thinks it is a choice between her and M.Sarcophagus, the candidate from the 'right'.
Or was that the 'centre-right', rather like the fairly secret ambition department of a foggily rheumy-eyed apology for a little bit less of tax, eventually, one day, if the republic doesn't collapse completely under pressure from the union hold-outs?
Usually all they have to do is hang on long enough for a significant part of the staggered French government to go down in a wave of unpopularity and then nothing happens.
Mme Valvoline on the other hand, only has to oil the machinery and grease a few die-hard palms with state indulgences and the beleagured people of Fronce will be positively bowing with gratitude at the lack of bloodshed and property damage and ushering in a new golden age, one without gold where everyone is aged by teatime and wishing they were on 'gronde vaconses'.
As they soon will be when early retirement and an anticipatory collapse of patriotism prevent further generations of the French from making their lives a 'fraternite' sacrifice, and go for a little 'egalite' instead.
No.
The clear choice is only whether or not to vote, and the problem is that more people have voted today than for forty years, so appearing to validate the 'grand guignol' of the French state.
This time they have the prospect of a woman to rejuvenate interest.
But this could be the last time.
The delay will last, oh, another ten years, like a shot in the arm for a heavily botoxed child of 1968.
Then again, looking at the pictures above, it could be a choice between somebody whose expression reminds me of someone about to swear vilely while brandishing a knitting needle at my groin(for my own good of course), and somebody who has just farted in a lift and is now sauntering insolently down the street to take a little Pernod.
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