So we get a French clubland scene. Can you imagine, les yes-yes de 1999 squidging around to scratchy squeaks? Rap en Francais, too, using brand names like Nina Ricci. I know they say the Euro music generation has come of age, and that Paris DJs can outrun London and so the Eurovision jokes are over for good, but this actually looks like 1988, not 1999.
A classy young Thierry type enters the dive. He is suited, open-neck- shirted, unshaven, rich and lucky and - by the rules of temporal compression that are unique to television commercials - immediately starts chatting up a girl who's dancing on her own.
She's handsome, too; she could be his sister, but there are some points of interest: she looks hard, she is very lipsticked and she is wearing violet eyeshadow. Anyway, the chat-up is swift and after a bit of mouth- to-ear byplay she has got him to set up two fine halves of Kronenbourg, allowing them a bit of joint posing; handsome big-mouthed twentysomethings to-gether, 1988 style.
Then she grabs the foaming tankards and bears them off elsewhere. To another girl, a blonde after the Caprice pattern who is wearing even more lipstick than her friend. Another girl who puts her arm round the enigmatic brunette's shoulders. They're together - got the pay-off - an item. And in case it's unclear a neon sign behind them says Ici est la vie.
Thierry meanwhile has gone from bemused to amused, to a "you've got to hand it to them" expression - the Hemingway to Marlene expression. If there were subtitles to his thoughts, he'd be saying, "Lesbians, huh, pretty cool, and what do you guys do?". You can see it's a turn-on.
This isn't absolutely the dernier cri in chic inversion but it is a reminder that Channel 4 should be planning to follow up its hugely successful crossover Queer as Folk with a story about three gorgeous predatory hedonistic lesbians operating out of a gay village in Aberdeen.