In the war for audiences in which radio stations are engaged, comedians are soldiers in their own right.
Both hidden in the trenches of “mischief” and on the front line facing the more or less literary critiques that abound on social networks, they are divided into two categories.
There are those who feel invested with a mission, convinced of belonging to the caste of hussars of freedom of expression thanks to the subversive power of laughter.
And then there are the others, who claim the right to claim nothing.
Less committed than Gaspard Proust and Guillaume Meurice, more political than Laurent Gerra, where should Tanguy Pastureau be placed?
The day before his 50th birthday, January 25, we found him in a brasserie in the 2nd arrondissement of Paris located a stone's throw from our editorial office.
We know: we didn't sprain ourselves.
Also read: France Inter or radical-chic progressivism
Good chic, good looks, impeccably styled salt and pepper hair and a crooked smile.
The Breton joker has a Champagne winegrower or journalist side…
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