Sitting amongst the simulacral remains of the market place, Baudrillard wept into a wilted cabbage leaf. He had lost his bag of moules and the moules vending hag had dragged away her cart many hours before. However, les Fantastische Deux were no dopes! They could tell a moules hag from a cabbage leaf any day of the week - unlike some others we could mention. So they took him gently in their arms, and made him realise what he was crying into. Baudrillard may have had a few things wrong, but one thing he did understand was how to cook moules marinieres. Which he did. And they ate it together sur le trottoir. For once the baguettes were blind to their happiness.