Paris is a bit like the girl you see emerge each day from some beautiful ancient building – immaculately dressed with just a hint of contempt perceptibly emanating from her perfectly painted lips – who, you later discover, lives in some 14m sq chambre de bonne (attic rooms originally for maids), owns but 5 items of clothing, has no kitchen and shares a bathroom with 4 strangers and twice as many mice. All glamour and poise at first glace, somewhat more shambolic at the second.

And so it comes as no surprise to Parisians and no small shock to anyone else that such an establishment still welcomes (destruction-hungry) customers through its venerable doors.

If nothing else, the pest shop is worth a look for the large quantity of stuffed and variously positioned rats and mice in the window: some strung-up, others mid-trap and even a few poised a hairs-breadth from the sinister looking metal jaws of the murderous devices.

Be not deterred by the apparently gruesome nature of the display though; for me this shop truly is a wonderful statement in defense of Paris’s loyal attachment to its national traditions and pride in its history.