At the National Assembly, two deputies almost come to blows. Meanwhile, Amazon and Boulanger are vying for consumers’ attention for Black Friday. Two scenes, one same absurdity: that of a theater where roles blur between political indignation and shock promotions.
Act I: The Hemicycle, a parliamentary ring that smells like pine
Thursday evening, in an already electric atmosphere, the National Assembly turned into a tense Christmas market. Nicolas Turquois, MoDem deputy, abruptly left his seat, perhaps inspired by the urgency of a consumer sensing a limited-time offer. His target: Mickaël Bouloux, an impassive socialist, who found himself accused of all evils: "My family was threatened!" shouted Turquois, as red as an angry Santa Claus.
It was like a scuffle in a chocolate aisle on sale: Turquois approaches, Bouloux retreats, and in the middle, a few Insoumis rush to separate the two men, not without a hint of satisfaction. Antoine Léaument, faithful to his role as a dramatic commentator, even declared: "I thought I was going to get a punch!" You know, like those voters who hope for gifts in the politicians’ sack but end up with a good old sterile debate around the turkey.
Finally, like in an overcrowded shopping center, ushers had to intervene. Turquois, escorted out, could have shouted: "I am a customer! I have rights!" But here, as in politics, after-sales service is often nonexistent.
Act II: Black Friday, Christmas before its time
While the deputies were competing over who had the biggest… indignation, Amazon and Boulanger were engaged in an equally fierce battle to win over their own electorate: the consumer. Where some offer amendments, others throw in PS5s at slashed prices.
"Console at 474 euros!" hammers Amazon. "OLED TV at half price!" retorts Boulanger. Customers, hypnotized, click frantically, like voters facing a campaign promise. And as always, the same question resonates: "Do I really need to buy this cooking robot?" The answer is obvious: of course not, but the call of marketing is stronger than that of reason.
Virtual carts overflow with improbable products: useless drones, connected garlands, and other gadgets that will also end up under the tree, half-forgotten. Like those parliamentary speeches that are applauded one evening and never reread.
Act III: Consumers and voters, same targets
The parallel is as striking as a year-end commercial: between the consumer addicted to promotions and the voter in search of promises, there is only one step. Amazon and Boulanger, like political parties, know perfectly how to flatter their target. Here, crossed-out prices; there, well-rehearsed slogans.
And just like the voter, the consumer often ends up disappointed. The much-coveted PS5? Out of stock. The promised amendment? Forgotten in committee. Each time, we are whispered: "Be patient, it will come." And we, good citizens and customers, continue to believe, between two garlands and three catalogs of toys made in China.
Christmas, Black Friday, and the great French play
When you think about it, Black Friday, like political quarrels, marks the kickoff of the holidays. Some promise "tax gifts," others "gifts, period." But in the end, everyone plays in the same play: that of the great human comedy where everyone, from the deputy to the consumer, plays their role to perfection.
In the Hemicycle, the outbursts replace Christmas carols. In the crowded aisles, cries of victory resonate like votes for the best deal. And we, spectators of this double spectacle, oscillate between laughter and sighs. Because whether it’s an amendment to article 49 or a promotion on a soundbar, everything always ends up costing more than expected.
Sweet France, now a country of political spectacle
As the garlands begin to twinkle and Christmas markets open their chalets, these scenes from the Hemicycle and Black Friday remind us of one thing: in France, theater is now everywhere. Our elected officials bustle under the spotlights like brand mascots in search of clicks. Merchants compete with tricks to sell dreams, sometimes on credit. And we, between an angry deputy and an enticing promotion, always end up choosing the spectacular promise that amuses us the most.
Perhaps that is the magic of the holidays: exaggeration. An explosion of absurdity where everyone, whether political or commercial, seeks to seduce their audience. So, in the absence of gifts under the tree, we console ourselves with one certainty: in France, Christmas always starts a little earlier, and with a lot, a lot of noise.