We might order what I consider to be the world’s best bouillabaisse, although some argue that another restaurant, Tetou, takes that prize. It’s in a fancy shack on the beach near Cannes and the cousin of the owner sprays herself with Giorgio Beverly Hills, which is terribly strong. I have tried to get her off it, but she says that otherwise all she smells of is fish. Still, her bouillabaisse is a close second to Bacon. About midnight, I go back to the house to have a few glasses of white wine and smoke my favourite cigar, a Montecristo No 3.