Lara Marlowe, in Paris, meets candidates in the French Assemblyelections, and an apathetic public.
Only six weeks ago, Mr Yves Cochet was a cabinet minister, enjoying the prestige and privilege that go with high office. Yesterday, the Green candidate for the 11th constituency in Paris cut a lonely figure, handing out tracts in the Villemain open-air market near Montparnasse.
Allied with the Socialists, the Greens are trying to "limit the damage" by mobilising the mostly young voters who shunned the polls on June 9th. The dictrict where Mr Cochet is standing is one of about 90 where a high turnout could make a difference.
But shoppers take little notice of Mr Cochet. An agro-industry worker who lost his job because of BSE chats for 10 minutes, then admits he always votes for the right. A mixed race couple, both teachers, asked for help with their housing problems.
The Jospin government's biggest mistake was "failing to resist liberal globalisation", Mr Cochet tells me thoughtfully. For example, they helped the rich by bringing French companies into line with international business regulations. Most of the new jobs they created were precarious, short-term contracts. But he expects far worse "social regression" under Mr Jean-Pierre Raffarin's right-wing government - the privatisation of the EDF electricity company and the SNCF railway, less social security protection, the legalisation of private pension funds that could end France's government-run retirement system.
A Green supporter rushes up to tell Mr Cochet that the Prime Minister is arriving at the nearby Pernety metro station, to show support for Mrs Dominique Versini, his rival. A huge crowd is waiting. "I guess I'll go write my speech for tonight," Mr Cochet says, surveying the empty pavement. "Raffarin gives the impression of being a 'man of the people'," he muses. "From an image point of view, it's very slick. Take my ministry [for the environment], for example. They renamed it 'ecology and sustainable development'."
Local residents, photographers and cameramen, wrestle their way into the packed cafe in the hope of hearing Mr Raffarin. "So that France can live happily in this new century," Mrs Versini must win on the 16th, he says. "The French have asked for unity; they are calling for renewal," he continues, praising his candidate for being "close to the people". Mrs Versini is the junior minister "against precariousness and exclusion" in the Raffarin government. She previously headed an emergency relief organisation for the homeless.
If you listen closely, Mr Raffarin's "politics of solidarity" sound like that old right-wing alibi, the trickle-down theory. "I want a humane economy, which will animate the social fabric. We want to help shopkeepers and craftsmen."
A butcher's wife complains that she and her husband work 16-hour days, six days a week, and cannot hire an assistant. Mr Raffarin promises to lower their taxes. And he will let businesses hire young interns with no social charges whatsoever. He's already asked Brussels to lower VAT in restaurants to 5.5 per cent. But the Algerian immigrant who asks him, "Is there any hope for us in France?" gets short shrift. "If you obey the law," Mr Raffarin says sternly.
The scrum of supporters and journalists locked around the Prime Minister jostles across the street and back. The local business people who've barely glimpsed Mr Raffarin raise their wine glasses and applaud from the cafe terrace. By God, the French love Jean-Pierre Raffarin. The way they loved Lionel Jospin in 1997. Almost as much as they loved their football team, until it lost.
"The French can be hard on leaders," a teacher reflects. He will vote for Mrs Versini. "We're the ones who cut off heads; we like sudden changes."