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Here we go again, just like 5 years ago, mired in a putrid duel the outcome of which we already know.

And fortunately, between a far-right botoxed using palm oil and the JFK of Amiens, we have no choice. Apart from throwing ourselves body and soul in Elden Ring while smoking contraband CBD.

And because I knew this strategy of the stranglehold would be adopted, this year I've opted for a multi-celebration of the senses by putting Sector A's finest selection of shoes right under your noses.

So, of course, if you're looking the dark, the dreary and the shapeless, don't bother. Here we deliver nothing but the sublime, orgasmic models with a touch of fairy dust.

So what's so special about April 12, apart from being the first day of the Cerealia, ancient Roman religious festivals celebrated in honor of Ceres (the ancient Greeks' Demeter), to whom the sacrifice of a sow was offered, followed by games?

Well, it was on April 12th, 1893 that the Olympia, built under the direction of Joseph Oller at 28 boulevard des Capucines, was inaugurated. Before it became a concert hall, he had had a roller coaster erected, but it was immediately banned by the then Prefect of Police, who feared it might catch fire.

Over the years, the hall became home to a wax museum, and was transformed into a cinema before my man, Bruno Coquatrix, took over as director in 1954. He set about creating a demanding program: Armstrong, Fitzgerald, Blanchet, the Stones, the Beatles, with great success.

In 2001, the Olympia was bought by Vivendi, at a time when Jean-Marie Messier was dreaming of becoming the Elon Musk of the media by acquiring all the glitz and glamour. My best memory of the Olympia? The concert by Supergrass, Britpop's best band along with Pulp, crushed between the two behemoths Blur and Oasis.

Since you deserve the best, here's something to get you drunk without ruining your GAMMA GT :

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