Election night with the Sarkozys

Election night in Paris is a very different affair from our own, rather sober ritual, for which the nation looks to a reassuring David Dimbleby. To begin with, the night is over when the exit polls are published the moment the polls close at 8p.m. All the major candidates compete to address the live television audiences immediately, and before any actual results have been certified.

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Meanwhile, the news networks appear not to have discovered the Skycopter™, so the journey from candidates’ residences to victory parties (or otherwise) is a bizarre ritual where young overexcited reporters perched on the back of motorbikes chase the motorcades, defying death with late-night chases, trying valiantly to penetrate blacked-out windows as they speed through Paris. One young gun in charge of tracking down François Hollande for France2 found himself blocking the front-running favourite in a doorway. In a panic, he dived out of the way, only to then chase the Socialist leader down the stairs, giving a live update to millions about his proximity to the potential leader of the French Republic.

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As a guest of the First Family, I spend much of the evening cosseted at the Sarkozy celebration. La Maison de la Mutualité is a storied venue in French politics, and the hyperactive president is preparing to take the stage. We crowd around the television to study the exit polls; tempers are running high and there are some choice words for the supposed wisdom of the electorate. But it is, of course, a very emotional moment for the extended Sarkozy clan. The president’s brothers are in attendance, as is his eldest son. (He is a hip-hop producer, a career in which having a right-wing president as one’s father is not particularly helpful.)