'Sarko' in London

One is not amused. But the rest are wowed

Queen Elizabeth II, France’s president Nicolas Sarkozy, his wife Carla Sarkozy-Bruni and the Duke of Edinburgh Prince Philip attend a guard of honour review during a welcome ceremony at Windsor Castle. Photograph: Philippe Wolazer/AFP/Getty

He loves us. He adores us. He reveres us! Listening to Nicolas Sarkozy address Parliament yesterday was like being underneath a torrent of crème Chantilly sprayed from a high-pressure hose.
He actually said “thank you” for the liberation! Previous French presidents have implied that events in Normandy were mere skirmishes while the French got on with the job of throwing off the German yoke.
But Mr Sarkozy could not thank us enough. Grateful? It was surprising that he didn’t grab the Speaker round his legs to thank him personally for everything his forebears had done. France would never forget – never! She would never forget the English blood, Scottish blood, Welsh blood, not forgetting the Irish blood. They would never forget the welcome given in London to General de Gaulle (something which seemed to slip the General’s own mind quite quickly). “France will never forget because it has no right to forget!”
(Compare and contrast with the General, who ordered all US troops out of France. One diplomat asked: “does that include the ones under the ground?”)
The setting for this gush of gratitude was the Royal Gallery in the Lords. The president is partial to a spot of bling, and this is bling on a mega scale. The gold, scarlet leather, stained glass and gilt statuary – it is a mad Victorian’s idea of what a medieval castle looked like, and it makes parts of Versailles resemble something knocked up by Mies van der Rohe. More
Sarkozy hails ‘brotherhood’ of France and Britain
(The Independent) France’s “bling bling” President, Nicolas Sarkozy, has recast himself in the mould of statesman, laying down an ambitious vision of “a new Franco-British brotherhood for the 21st century” in which the two countries could unite to influence the world.
Addressing a joint session of both Houses of Parliament yesterday, on the first day of a state visit to Britain, M. Sarkozy cantered through history to argue that Britain and France were united by more than divided them, listing the contemporary similarities ranging from GDP to defence priorities.
Calling for an “entente amicale” to replace the 104-year-old entente cordiale alliance, he urged Britain to take its place at the heart of Europe.
The new Diana? In Britain, Carla Bruni steals the show
LONDON: Was she the new Kennedy-Onassis or a reborn Diana? With her flat Dior pumps and calf-length gray overcoat, was she a high-school student on vacation or, as one columnist asked, “Jackie O dressed as a nun”?
When Carla Bruni, the 40-year-old former supermodel and new first lady of France, arrived here Wednesday with her husband on a state visit, her risqué image had been molded in advance, mostly by breathless accounts of her serial celebrity lovers and disparaging remarks about the value of monogamy.
But after appearances with the British royals, in Parliament and at a state dinner – with different Dior outfits for each event – Bruni emerged Thursday as the star of the visit, supplanting affairs of state with an affaire d’amour among British newspaper reporters wistfully competing for the fondest declaration of praise.
And finally, refer to picture at top — this is wonderful!
(The Guardian) The gaze
Just look at the man-trapping stare that Carla Bruni has triumphantly brought to Britain. Show us how it’s done, Carla.
As a basic foundation one needs to be ravishingly beautiful with large, lash-fringed eyes above a slightly parted mouth. If you lack the gorgeousness, you might resemble that deranged fan in the Stephen King novel Misery, who kidnaps a famous writer and amputates his foot.
If you direct all your attention at a man, you need to have a face that commands attention.
The Gaze tells an unlikely story, which men fall for every time. Witness Prince Philip in his gilded coach yesterday, as Carla turned on the 10,000-watt radiance. He sits back, as if hit by a stun gun. The Gaze says, “You, my darling desiccated duke, you, you could make me happy. Everything you say and do absorbs me. Look, I am smiling. And why? Because you are so witty, so handsome, so debonair in your overcoat. So what, you are married? Wives are easily disposed of.”
In the Gaze, the face is mainly immobile. It is unnecessary to speak. The face speaks. The recipient of the Gaze interprets its language: my God, she fancies me! Then, alarmingly, the Gaze turns off, or away.
The sun is put out. The Gaze is directed to someone else. Yet how can that be, when it is me she loves?
Try practising the Gaze in front of a mirror, or on your pets. Take a good look at the goldfish. When you try this at home you’ll find you’re more likely to resemble a carp than Carla.
Linda Grant