After Nicolas Sarkozy's brief and bustling visit to Dublin, I conclude that our brethren to the south are to live in interesting times.

When the Irish vote on the EU treaty went all wrong for Brussels last month, I was in France. I was quite astounded at the national sensation the result produced — and at the uniformity of the reaction.

The headlines were scarcely printed before the question was everywhere: must not Ireland vote again? This was clearly being pushed energetically by a posse of press officers from the Elysee; to be followed by a delicately executed hatchet job on those troublesome Euro-rebels over in Dublin. The size of the Republic's crock of gold from Brussels (‘40 milliards euros ... ’) was splashed everywhere, followed by significantly well-informed knocking copy on the growing hoarseness of the Celtic Tiger's roar.

‘Le Tigre Celtique ne rugit plus ... ’ was typical, followed by impressive documentation on the wilting of the economy south of the border.

For Europhiles, of course, it is all a little sad. Are the friendships of old worth so little? The dynamic personality of Sarkozy is a factor here. This little man in a hurry is still in love with his new job as well as his new wife. Even with the platform heels on his shining black shoes, he cannot manage to match the gorgeous Carla's willowy height. But he still dominates any room he enters, any ceremony he graces.

The long tradition of state-owned television helps. The President is all over the news bulletins all night, every night, enjoying the sort of coverage Government spin doctors in London and Washington can only dream about. It may be only shaking hands with the sapeur-pompiers with their new fire engine in some provincial outpost on the Loire or patting the back of a school principal in a Paris suburb: but the cameras will be there — and the pictures will not be wiped.

French television is often deprecated by British viewers. Close to the Government it may be, but it is more mature than the UK's in two respects. The sound is not hysterically boosted when the commercials are shown and the barbarism of trailing forthcoming programme announcements over the end titles of the preceding item is generally avoided. (The boosted sound of commercials (including the BBC's) in the UK puzzles me. Do these people not know that the audience at once zaps the sound off in disgust?)

A valiant battle is still fought against the overweening intrusion of English; and in France the audience still has a huge proportion of its foreign news interviews presented with voice-over French because, globally, the Saxon tongue is now the favoured second language. There are occasions, though, when defeat is unavoidable, as when there was a momentary loss of picture during the UEFA cup semi-final on June 25. ‘Signal loss detected’ flashed across French screens. The match was being played in Switzerland between Germany and Turkey.

In fact, there was something of a parable in the French celebration the night the Spanish defeated the Russians in Vienna to win their place in the final. French channels roped in correspondents waiting to comment Europe-wide; but of the Irish, the English, the Scots, the Welsh and the Northern Irish — from London or Dublin or anywhere else in these parts ... nothing. Not one team in the British Isles, of course, had qualified. The missing guests not at the party seemed so accurately to represent the current chill inside the EU.

But we should take note of the typical French attitude to the law. I want to be tactful, because I hope to return next year; so shall I say it tends to be — flexible? The traditional view is that the French citizen is held in the grip of the nanny state. Not a bit of it. If he or she takes exception to any regulation, they just ignore it — like their early hint that they might ignore the Irish ‘No’ to the Treaty. So high-powered motor cycles roar through red lights along the promenade at Nice and fast scooters imperil strollers on the pavement. Dogs are expressly forbidden on the beach, a regulation boldly posted on the numerous notices listing the by-laws; but owners take them on freely. Parking is forbidden on the busy parallel Avenue de la Californie, but parked cars fill the slow lane.

The concerns of the disparate people of Europe, possibly, were never quite so uniform as they are now. (A plan to close a provincial hospital in Brittany has just led to riots in the streets.) But their attitude to EU regulations is not. The UK tends to regard them as holy writ; the French, if they dislike a provision, will intrigue until they can replace it. In the unlikely event they do not succeed, they ignore it.

So those who, with good reason, take issue with the Treaty should remain — how should I put it? On the qui vive? Sarkozy wants the Treaty and Sarkozy, so far, has been getting what he wants.