Suddenly, French president Emmanuel Macron and his wife Brigitte are madly in love!

Oh, look everyone. Toast yourself in the furnace of their new-found ardour. They kiss in public, they hug like bugs in a rug, they suddenly seem keen on presenting a united front to the world.

As their tour of the Far East continues, the loved-up Macrons are coming on hot, giving the impression of a couple happily entwined in the happiest of happy marriages – why, they couldn't be happier if they were toasting each other with happy juice during happy hour in the happiest bar on Happy Island.

But few are fooled. We all know what we saw, which was a tiny, furious furball of a wife giving her husband a right old smack in the chops for reasons unknown.

Experienced pugilists might pause to consider that it was an unusual double-handed face shove, deployed as if Brigitte were in a bad mood because she couldn't find her favourite make up trowel and was using force majeure to slam shut the utensil drawer.

Elysee Palace aides at first denied the incident while the president downplayed it in the manner of Louis XVI waving a pomander under his nostrils when the stench of the peasantry got too much.

'Eh?' he shrugged, telling reporters: 'My wife and I were squabbling, we were rather joking, and I was taken by surprise.'

We all were. The moment at the airplane door became viral, when the First Lady appeared to slap the president following their touchdown in Vietnam for a state visit.

The moment at the airplane door became viral, when Brigitte appeared to slap French president Emmanuel Macron following their touchdown in Vietnam for a state visit

President Macron even suggested everyone was overreacting and it had 'become a kind of planetary catastrophe, and some are even coming up with theories'

In the days that followed, Elysee officials continued to insist there was no spat and airily claimed the couple were simply 'having a laugh' in a 'moment of closeness'. Yes, because there is nothing funnier than a wifely wallop, is there?

President Macron even suggested everyone was overreacting and it had 'become a kind of planetary catastrophe, and some are even coming up with theories'.

Guilty as charged. And according to him it wasn't a fight, it was a 'sign of deep connection between them'. Of course it was – the kind of deep connection Muhammad Ali's fist once made with George Foreman's head.

Of course that is not to suggest that Bantamweight Brigitte 'The Midget' Macron is some kind of Wham Bam Madam of a boxing champ who storms around the presidential quarters giving Emmanuel a clip on the ear every time he doesn't pick up his socks.

However, the president's shocked expression on the plane told its own tale of a home life that is perhaps no stranger to discord. And his wife's refusal to take his arm when they exited the plane hinted at tension, not tenderness. Meanwhile, her continued silence on the matter has made things worse.

Of course, everyone has a had a good laugh about it all, even if there is nothing funny about domestic violence. But come on, it's the Macrons after all, two of the most preposterous Oompa Loompas in all Europe and a couple whose marriage is unusual even by French standards.

They met when she was a 39-year-old teacher and he was her 15-year-old pupil. The president has called their subsequent relationship 'a love often clandestine, often hidden, misunderstood by many before imposing itself'. One suspects that British authorities might have called it something very different – a crime.

Yet for many years French officials have insisted there is nothing weird about their unusual liaison. To this end the Macrons have held hands and smiled adoringly at each other as their tour continued with a trip to Jakarta, Indonesia.

They met when she was a 39-year-old teacher and he was her 15-year-old pupil. The president has said their subsequent relationship is 'a love often clandestine and misunderstood'

Their supercilious denials are so gallic – and so galling. For there is something imperious in the tenor of the repeated disavowals; always delivered in that withering tone that suggests the French are so sophisticated and superior in the ways of love, and anyone who disagrees or objects simply isn't urbane or cultured enough to understand.

Yet beneath the surface, there is a curdled side to French sexual politics. Recent sex scandals have included the terrible case of Madame Pelicot, drugged by her husband who filmed men raping her, with no shortage of volunteers.

This week Joel Le Scouarnec, a former surgeon who admitted sexually abusing hundreds of patients – mostly children – was sentenced to 20 years in jail. And then, of course, there is Gerard Depardieu. This month, the titan of French cinema was found guilty of sexually assaulting two women – and given a suspended jail sentence. This is despite rape allegations first being aired against him seven years ago, while over 20 women have now accused him of sex crimes.

Meanwhile, an entire publishing industry seems to have sprung up around the myth that the French are superior at intimate relationships, without global equal when it comes to matters of the heart and always on top of sexual politics.

We've got our own share of monsters, of course, but there is an undeniable darkness in the French psyche that smokes through all this sexual excess and clouds judgment when it comes to matters such as the Macron pile on.

So non, merci. I don't believe the simpering excuses of a French president who married his teacher and I'm not going to accept the high-handed protestations of his aides who claim it was just a laugh. Not just because it makes President Macron look weak, not only because it fuels more lurid gossip about the Macrons' unconventional marriage, but mostly because the French are in no position to lecture anyone about anything to do with love.

How soon before the Macrons issue a joint statement about how their life journey together has ended and they are now pursuing individual growth paths?

Watch this space.

Time for a City break 

Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw, the part she has played since 1998

Like a perfumed nightmare that never ends, Sex And The City is back in the form of a third – third! – series of And Just Like That (Sky).

This patchy reboot follows assorted films (terrible) and spin-offs (worse), each a pale imitation of the original.

Indeed, SATC was well past its sell-by when it ended in 2004 – yet over 20 years later, here we are again. Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Charlotte (Kristin Davis) and Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) are still charging around Manhattan; three coiffed husks still whining about their life choices and making up problems to discuss over brunch.

'I've discovered the joy of hate-watching,' says human rights lawyer Miranda in the first episode. You and me both, darling. It is impossible to summon up the energy to care who Carrie is dating or what kind of phone sex she is having with ex Aidan (John Corbett).

Once upon a time many would watch SATC just to see what shoes Carrie was wearing. Now it's a load of old cobblers.

 How Trudeau put his foot in it at Charles's speech

Justin Trudeau and his 'Terrible Trainers'

Can we talk about Justin Trudeau and his Terrible Trainers? I used to think that wearing blackface was the worst thing that Justin could put on his body, but I was wrong.

The former Canadian prime minister wore turquoise and orange Adidas Gazelles at King Charles's historic address to the Canadian parliament.

There is casual, and then there is just plain rude. The trainers might have looked good on a little boy attending his first Tumble Tots class, but as footwear for an adult attending a state event they left much to be desired. Perhaps we should just be grateful Justin is out of public office. For ever.

Alarming news on the tourism front this week. The beautiful Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland has been damaged by idiot tourists leaving coins in the cracks.

Meanwhile, two British pole dancers have been arrested for performing in Corfu, presumably in pursuit of the same financial end. The women climbed into their capacious red thongs, hopped onto their poles and gyrated outside the Old Palace of St Michael and St. George — a 200-year-old former royal residence on the Greek island. For their pains they were charged with degrading the cultural landscape of Corfu, found guilty and fined.

They should consider themselves lucky not to be in jail. During the performance, a supporter shouted 'Yes, Shelly, nice!' Presumably, this was in response to Shelly performing the kind of tasteful manoeuvre that showed everyone what she had for breakfast?

Oh, my God. Degrading is the word.

Waffling wife of Wolverine

The couple recently filed for divorce and Deborra-Lee, 69, hasn't been able to stop herself from expressing her feelings

Yes, the breakup of any marriage is sad. And it is understandable why Australian actress Deborra-Lee Furness is none too thrilled her husband Hugh Jackman, 56, has left her and is in a relationship with dazzling Broadway star Sutton Foster.

The couple recently filed for divorce and Deborra-Lee, 69, hasn't been able to stop herself from expressing her feelings in a fulsome statement.

'Compassion goes out to everyone who has traversed the traumatic journey of betrayal,' she began ominously. 'It's a profound wound that cuts deep, however I believe in a higher power and that God/the universe is always working FOR us.'

She went on to declare arduous circumstances can help us 'find our way home, back to our true essence and the sovereignty of self-love'.

Oh dear. I'm sad for Deborra-Lee that handsome old Wolverine packed up his claws and left her. But if this is the way she goes on, it is almost understandable.

As if London didn't have enough problems, Mayor Sadiq Khan now wants to decriminalise marijuana. This fashionable objective helps absolutely nothing and no one, while encouraging kids to believe taking drugs is a respectable pastime. 

Has Mr Khan been in any of the American states where cannabis is legal?

Clouds of smoke mean the streets stink of boiled cabbage for a start, while an unmistakable ennui soon settles over those with easy access to dope, an official approval to smoke until they make themselves sick, and nothing better to do with their time. Can't we do something more positive for young people?